Beware the Idleness of March

How long has it been since I was on here? Long enough for me to almost forget my password.

Anyway, I have a legitimate excuse: I've been busy. Grad school really takes over your life, more so than undergraduate did. For the past month, I've alternated between stuff for one class and stuff for another class and stuff for yet another class (in retrospect, it might have been a wiser move on my part to avoid a fourth class than I'd thought), and what with my responsibilities in trying to make sure the Literary Festival is a success (it's this upcoming week, by the way, you should all definitely come if you're reading this and within a reasonable geographical location what-not), it's a wonder I still have any brown hair left, or hair for that matter.

But it's the kind of stress that's good, believe it or not. There's the anticipation with hoping that I do well in all activities, coupled with my natural and in-no-way-valid fear that I'll screw it all up somehow (unless that fear *is* valid...oh crap), and you mix it all together to get a guy who wore himself out the week before Spring Break running around campus trying to put up posters in various buildings for the Lit Fest (and being sneaky about it in some circumstances). Come to think of it, I needed the rest that Spring Break promised more than anything.

Before I could rest, however, I had to travel: my first-ever conference as a grad student, at UNC-Greensboro. The same weekend that the ACC Championship was taking place...in Greensboro. But we (my sis, brother-in-law, and I) made it up there okay, and while driving around Friday night for what proved to be a fruitless effort to find a Japanese place that allowed to-go orders (they were super busy, of course) and settling for Arby's, we couldn't help but notice an abundance of strip clubs in the greater Greensboro area (one even had a stretch limo pulled out in front...I wonder if it was formerly full of players from one of the teams?). UNCG itself was awesome, a really big and nice campus, and I got to present my paper on my trip to New Orleans (that I turned in for my Digital Humanities course last semester). It was all about associative memory, and I even reached a couple of folks in the room (one of them said they'd never thought of sports as having an association with a place, especially not in the era of free agency, when in my paper I mentioned how Eli Manning was a local New Orleans kid and I'd bought my t-shirt of his jersey while in New Orleans). I also found my way to reading some of Seamus Heaney's poetry when I got back home (one of my fellow presenters did a paper on one of his poems, and I'm more receptive to reading poetry for fun nowadays, so I picked up one of his collections). The conference was about "The Power of Place," and it was a fantastic first-conference experience. My only regret was that we had to leave so early (it was my sister's birthday, and understandably she didn't want to spend the bulk of it in NC, away from her daughter).

Spring Break week, I would've liked to have relaxed more (I did try), but truth is I was and continue to be hyped up about the Lit Fest. I've also got to figure out how I'm going to get to Albany, Georgia, next month for a conference that I've been invited to present at. Oh, and the Jeopardy tryout, also in Georgia (Savannah), also next month.

Shit, I should've relaxed more...

Anyway, come out for the Lit Fest this week, assuming any of you reading this are within geographical distance. If not, just do your best to be literary and festival-y this week. That's not too much to ask, is it?

Jeopardy 2: Electric Boogaloo

Yesterday, after observing a friend of mine teach her 1030 class (not being creepy, it's a required thing for my "learning how to teach good" class and she was more than happy to help a brother out), I checked my email while eating lunch and saw something in my inbox from "Jeopardy," America's favorite way to "out" as many nerds as possible via a clever set-up in which they are asked to respond to answers in the form of questions. As you may recall, I have a long history of taking the online tests whenever they roll around every year, and a couple of years ago I even got the chance to audition at an event in New Orleans, which was awesome. I hadn't taken the test this past January, however, and I figured my life of "Jeopardy" was over.

So when they said they wanted to know if I could make it to an audition in Savannah, Georgia this upcoming April...I immediately thought "didn't Sony get hacked by the North Koreans last year?"

Because Sony owns "Jeopardy," and one can only imagine what the devious Kim Jong Un could do with my email address handy. I anticipate being asked to rate him in terms of "a great leader, or the greatest" soon.

But supposing this isn't a scam, and supposing I really do hope it isn't ( and I do), this means I'll have that to look forward to amidst a very busy semester that only promises to get busier. I got the responsibility of making sure the Lit Fest goes off without (too much of) a hitch, and while I'm not alone in that (an entire dedicated student group helping to organize the event and make sure no authors wander off too far into the native wilds of neighboring counties, thus avoiding any international incidents) I do feel a lot of responsibility towards the event. I also have two conferences that I'm planning on appearing at over the course of the next few months (one for a paper I've already written, one for a paper that I haven't). And my buddy Will is getting married, thankfully in the first weekend of May (i.e., after the end of my current semester), which means I can attend but which also means that I'm not sure I can perform the duties of groomsman that he offered to me and which I accepted late last year, before I realized that this was going to be my "busy" semester.

Thankfully, classes are going good, and I hope they continue to do so. Just so long as that bastard Foucault doesn't turn up in any of my readings...

Side note: Last week a kid brought in a short story set in a relic of another time, a video store (and he set it during the Eighties, when I was a kid whose mom worked briefly at one or two video stores). The nostalgia this evoked in me has led me to wonder if my memory of riding around the mom-and-pop video store my mom worked at in Westminster on a Big Wheel was accurate or just a misremembering brought about by my later viewing of Kubrick's The Shining. If it's a real memory, then I guess I could say I was Danny Torrance in my youth, minus the homicidal father and the psychic visions. But I do remember the old boxes that the videotapes came in, stuffed with cardboard or other material so it wouldn't fold down but still stand out on the shelves. I also remember looking through the horror section, daring myself to turn the box around and see what mayhem awaited the poor cast members of whatever half-forgotten fright flick had caught my eye. It occurs to me now that a lot of the time, the idea of the movies that I got from the images on the back of those boxes was probably scarier than the actual movie itself. Hooray for late Eighties imagination!

Also, it's Valentine's Day today, I don't have anyone to buy romantic crap for and that's okay because I've never been good at it anyway. I did ride around a bit and end up buying a Clyde Edgerton book that had once belonged to some guy named "Roland" (I know this because he wrote "Roland" in capital letters on the pages-side of the book, not the spine. Your book should be in good hands, Roland). I recently read a short story of his and thought it was funny. Clyde Edgerton, not "Roland."

Anyway, that's all I got for now, peeps.

"What If Your Protagonist Wore a Fedora?"

Last semester, I enrolled in a fiction workshop for the first time in ages. I had taken two or three during my undergrad tenure, sure that I had something important and/or funny to say and that my classmates would recognize my brilliance, praise me to the skies for my creative mind and brave approach to the heart-rending stories of the day, and carry me out on their shoulders as the "champion writer of workshop."

The fact that it's been almost ten years since I even thought about writing fiction should tell you how well that went.

In truth, though, I was arrogant, and not confident (I think of "arrogance" as unfounded confidence masking a deep insecurity, something that I imagine a lot of writers or want-to-be writers have). I didn't want to do what came naturally to me (be funny), I wanted to be serious (or Be Serious). I was trying too hard to fit into what I thought I should be writing about. Towards the end of each workshop, I broke down a little and admitted more of my own particular style into each piece, and was rewarded for it with praise. But I still thought I had to be "serious."

Since then, I've done a lot of reading, very good writers that I'd already liked (Vonnegut, Pynchon), and also new discoveries that I never anticipated or expected (Graham Greene, Jonathan Lethem, George Saunders, and so on). One of the things that I don't think gets stressed enough in most college workshops is that you have to read before you can write. This doesn't mean that you should straight-up rip off the writers you read...well, I take that back: you should absolutely rip off the writers you read, the ones that inspire you or infuriate you, whatever the case may be, because if you see something in their work that sticks with you, that makes you think, makes you weep, laugh, cry, or want to smash a wall, then they've done something right, and you'd be a fool not to try and see whether you have that in you, or if not specifically the thing that, say, makes Salinger "Salinger" or Pynchon "Pynchon," then at least something in you that needs to be said, written, digested by those around you.

Good writing will out, every time, even if you're reading something that is in a genre you don't like or understand. I think back to a workshop many years ago where a girl wrote something very much in the "chick-lit" mold, she made apologies to the guys in our class about "having to" read something like that but I thought she did a good job. In that same class, I turned in an experimental thing which was back-and-forth dialogue between a married couple, telling their daughter how they'd met as a bedtime story (I hadn't started watching How I Met Your Mother yet). One of the girls in class said that I'd somehow known the story of she and her boyfriend (now husband), and I was flabbergasted. I hadn't anticipated that something I thought was "just a story" would actually hit like that. It's a good feeling, and better than unanimous praise from the entire class about any "genius" I might have as a writer.

So I think there are some good ground rules that I'd like to lay down for fiction workshops because, truth be told, I'd love to teach one someday. Creative writing is in my blood, even if sometimes my writing isn't all that creative (you have to do the work to get good, though, so while I dismiss a lot of that work I did in the past I acknowledge how important it is that it's out there). One rule that both of my current workshop teachers have stressed and that I would do so as well: try to find the positive before you find the negative in someone's work. Remember: a lot of the time, the people doing the workshop aren't professional writers, they're new to this or at least not published yet and so a lot of the time you will run into the "praise me, please" aspect of workshopping. Don't be afraid to point out mistakes in grammar or what you think doesn't work in a story, just don't be too harsh about it. A certain amount of sugarcoating is necessary in order for any advice you give to be taken seriously. I've been guilty of being too harsh sometimes, and I'm human, so I'm guessing if I really thought something was bad I'll say so in my comments or in a write-up to the author. But it's not personal, and should never be so.

A lot of younger writers do take it personally when you mark up their story, even when you're praising it. So I would say to refrain from discussing someone's work that you're workshopping outside of the workshop. If you've never had a moment where you were causally talking about someone's story and, even though you were saying nice things, the person accidentally overheard you or it got back to them and their feelings were hurt, I envy you. I think I've been guilty of it. After workshop, by all means, point out the flaws among your peer group if the author isn't within earshot. Because God knows when something is bad, it has to get out of your system one way or another, and it's a healthy release to have your feelings about something validated by others.

Steer clear of the personal stuff when you're writing a story. This doesn't mean "turn into a robot" when you write, but don't use something as a story if it's a part of your history, especially if it's painful for you to think about, at least not in a workshop setting. Unless it's something that you're comfortable with having discussed in class (albeit as a fictional construct), find inspiration a little further afield than your own life. Observation is an important part of being a writer, and empathy; you can't observe and report if you're focused on yourself. This is not a hard and fast rule, of course: sometimes you really will have something in your life that would make for a great fictional story, so go for it. But just be wary of doing it too often.

If you're going to do something, write it for yourself most of all, the workshop audience secondary. It's tempting to try and turn in something that everyone will indeed like and praise, but that's not learning how to write. As with all these arbitrary rules, I fear that I've been guilty of violating this one some times. It's human nature to seek acceptance, but it's more rewarding as a writer to try and push boundaries. Even if you fail, you take a risk, and risk is an important (essential) component to any workshop. This doesn't mean you should try and write a short version of Naked Lunch for your classmates, though I wouldn't discourage you from trying. Just don't be so comfortable that you forget to try. Great writing should make you uncomfortable, on some level.

Be civil. I know from past experience that, for every person who has a genuine desire to grow and learn the craft, there's someone who's just in there for the praise (and usually, it's me). This doesn't mean that, when you find a story so bad, so poorly-written, or whatever, that you should rake that person over the coals. Even professional writers who get paid to do this shit have feelings (something we like to forget in our snarky internet culture). But on the most basic level, a lot of these classmates of yours aren't looking for "How Trevor Seigler would totally re-write this story to fit his particular tastes," they're looking for ways to improve their story, as they see it. I'll be honest, some stories I've read in past workshops have made me laugh without intending to, some have made me cringe, and I would hope that I've been civil in my responses. But again, I'm sure that's not always the case. I remember one guy, years ago, whose crutch was having the protagonist suddenly remember that he had a sword strapped to his back, just in time for the zombies or vampires or zombie-vampires busting down the door to whatever room he was in. Terrible, awful writing...though the fact that I remember it all these years later might cause me to reverse my judgment (how many of my peers' stories, indeed my own, do I remember after all this time?). You're going to have that, and sometimes it's going to be you that gets to be "the person whose work is not looked forward to." Me, I kinda thrive on it (I'm a little stinker), but I would hope that if I find something I can't quite get behind, I can at least not stand up in class and say "this story is terrible and the author should never, ever write again." Because that's not cool.

At any rate, any kind of workshop scenario in which you judge other people's work should be a fun experience, even if it leaves your soul shattered and your confidence as a writer in the trashcan. For a long time, I thought I had no business writing fiction, not because of the comments from classmates but because of my own view of my work. Now I'm a lot more generous with myself, and humble(r) about my abilities. You should feel free in a workshop to try new things, and you'll even fail a time or two. But you'll be a better writer for it. Or maybe you won't want to write at all. But it should still be fun.

Things I'll Probably Never Be Into

Yesterday, I was thinking about how I've only been updating this with serious stuff (American Sniper, gun violence, etc.) and thought "hey, let's lighten the mood a bit. So I humbly present to you my list of various pop-culture things that I'm guessing I'll never really be into. Because, well, it beats talking about Bill Belichick's deflated balls.

Harry Potter: Let me preface this by saying that, many years ago, I checked out Finnegan's Wake from my local library because 1.) I was shocked that they had something by any author not named "James Patterson" in the fiction section and 2.) I was under the impression that James Joyce might be an author I need to read if I want to understand the "human condition" and Modernism. I got a page and a half into that unholy mess before throwing up my hands in defeat. Similarly, I went with my aunt to the movie theater, she wanted to see whichever Harry Potter movie was out at the time (the one where Dumbledore dies at the end, if you're wondering) and I wanted to see something else that actually wasn't starting anytime soon, so I ended up watching Harry and his friends alongside her. I couldn't tell you what the hell happened in that movie. I am aware of this Harry Potter fellow, of course, and I know basic things about him (he looks like me when I was twelve and first got glasses, he's into magic, there are scarves involved) but that's about it. I feel at a loss when people a little younger (okay, a lot younger) than me in the MAE program start talking about him like an old friend who helped them get through childhood. I'm never going to read the books, probably. I appreciate that it's better overall than the sick and twisted crap that is Twilight in terms of "things geared towards younger audiences," but I feel like I was too old to get into HP when the books first started coming out. Razz-ma-tazz all you want, I ain't getting on the train to that magic school.

The Godfather Trilogy: I've seen all three of these movies, so my "getting into" them is purely a choice I made after considering all that there was to each film. Truthfully, Goodfellas is better, I feel like Michael Corleone is a glorified heel. Much like Peter Griffin, I did not care for these films. That being said, I understand their importance in the history of American cinema (well, the first two anyway), and I acknowledge that, filmmaking-wise, they're beatifully crafted. But emotionally engaging? Not for me. Coppola made the all-time best movie about the Vietnam War (through the lens of Heart of Darkness). Apocalypse Now is an unholy mess of a film, but then Vietnam was an unholy mess of a war. Good guys and bad guys? Shit, they've all got something that they're running towards or from. But the Corleones are cardboard compared to Willard and Kurtz. I've seen all three films (I saw the third one first, which might have ruined me on the previous two installments), and I'm left with nothing but a hollow "appreciation" of the films as art but no connection to them whatsoever.

Modern Country Music: Also known as "post-Garth Brooks populist clap-trap that has nothing of value to say and is as empty and soul-less as modern post-Tupac rap." So of course every girl I know loves this crap. I'll take Johnny Cash any day over Florida-Georgia Line.

Dr. Who: Now, this is one that, by all rights, I should be into. I have a grudging accpetance of sci-fi as a legitmate avenue for cultural expression, albeit one that often falls into the "hey, look at this cool effect" school of film-making (or literature). There's over fifty years of mythology to sort through and I can't say that I am up for the challenge. I may eventually get on board with this, but for the time being I'm content to keep confusing Dr. Who with The Who (the greatest rock band of all time).

Modern-day video games: I used to be a "gamer," back when those games involved an Italian plumber navigating a series of ladders while an angry gorilla threw barrels at him. I understand that gaming is now much more intensive than that, and I respect those for whom such ideas as an all-weekend-binge of role-playing games sounds like a fun time. But I don't feel like investing in any modern gaming systems myself. Just passed me by, I guess (though I'm always down for a multi-player round of GoldenEye in the various locales and with rocket launchers).

Vampire/Zombie/Vampire-Zombie Cinema/Literature/Games: Every few years, there's a horror-inspired craze that takes over the entertainment world (to whit: not only did someone write a book about Honest Abe killing vampires, they made a movie about that book as well). I respect that the marketplace is driven by ideas, even if those ideas are done to death (notable bright side to all the zombie nonsense: Shaun Of the Dead). I remember seeing bookshelves littered with variations of the Pride & Prejudice & Zombies template a few years back, none of them enticing (come to think of it, P&P&Z was kinda awful). No thank you.

Soccer: It may be the most popular game in the world, but every time I've watched it (on TV, or when some of my young cousins were playing on soccer teams), I've been bored stiff. Sorry.

Hockey: Ditto.

My favorite bands getting back together for a reunion tour: This is not always a bad idea, but it rarely does more than remind me how much better a lead singer was in his twenties or thirties (now that he's pushing AARP age and I'm wincing as he tries to make a song that was relevant back in the Eighties or whenever "come alive" in the modern day). I saw the best bands of generations previous to my own destroyed by nostalgia, and madness.

The NFL, after all the crap this past season: I'm done with watching the games all the way through anymore, or giving a damn. Roger Goodell being disembowled on live TV after the Super Bowl couldn't get me back into my pre-Ray Rice level of excitement for the sport. I'm not a complete automaton; I'll still tune in from time to time (especially if it's the Giants). But as far as giving a crap, I think I'm done with that.

Golf: Whether playing it (which I did once) or watching it on TV (only on summer afternoons when there was nothing else on), I've never been bowled over by golf. It's not a sport; it's an excuse for white dudes to get away from the wife for an afternoon (but not involving something like strippers or drugs, so less fun).

American Sniping

When I went with a buddy to go see Inherent Vice recently, there was a trailer for the new Clint Eastwood film American Sniper. I'd seen it before, and seen the countless commercials in which Bradley Cooper has a terrible, godawful Southern/Texas accent. I can honestly say that my level of interest in seeing the film has remained at the "wait for it on cable one night when there's nothing else on" level (like with most of Eastwood's directorial projects; I acknowledge that he's a master of the form without necessarily liking his stuff enough to seek it out. I mean, Gran Torino was good but not great). So I guess that makes me a Commie pinko homosexual liberal elite who wants to destroy this country and take a shit on the bald eagle while wiping my private parts with the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

Because, of course, people had to make this political. First on the left, with Seth Rogen saying the film reminded him of the film-within-a-film Nation's Pride (from Tarantino's masterpiece Inglourious Basterds) and then Michael Moore weighing in that snipers were "cowards." This caused the predictable Fox News attacks and Breitbart exposes that basically revealed what you already knew: Moore is fat and Rogen is un-American (literally: he's Canadian). Shit storm of shit storms, do your worst! Now it's almost considered a patriotic duty not just to see the film (again, with Bradley Cooper's atrocious accent) but to also dump on those who don't like it as much as you do.

Fact is, I acknowledge there's plenty of bullshit on both sides of the debate, but I'm more inclined to highlight it when it's on the far, far, far right of the spectrum. I'm a liberal, after all, or what passes for one in South Carolina (i.e., I don't mind that Obama's in charge of the country). I've read Marx (Richard Marx, Hold On to the Night: My Life In and Out of Lite-Rock Radio...I kid, but how awesome would that be?), I have never voted for a Republican since I was old enough to vote for the important stuff like "president" or "dog catcher," and I can't be blamed for the fact that Lindsey Graham is somehow still in office when everyone knows that he's...well...just so masculine (sorry, I don't want to upset that drama queen). So yeah, I'm not in the target audience for American Sniper, at least not in terms of unquestioningly accepting that Chris Kyle (the real-life guy, whose accent, I assume, is far more accurate than Cooper's) was an American hero with no shades of grey to upset the dominant narrative of his sacrifice for us.

But that's just it: I can't dismiss out of hand that Kyle, whatever his faults, was an important figure in the Iraq War, just not in the way that Sean Hannity would have you think. Kyle served in Afghanistan and Iraq, racked up over 150 kills as a sniper in both theaters, and came home only to be gunned down by a fellow veteran on a shooting range in 2013/2014 (can't remember which). His is a story of tragedy, of a life cut short due to an act of kindness on his part. That part I don't dispute. What I have a problem with is the notion that Kyle, or anyone else in the military who served in Iraq, was "protecting our freedoms."

Someone on my Facebook page said "freedom isn't free," and he's right. But it doesn't always have to be purchased at the end of a gun barrel. In fact, the more often it's gained through other more peaceful means, the better it is for everyone involved. But you'd expect me to say that, right? Godless America-hating liberal that I am, I am the son of a military veteran, a man who saw action in Vietnam. He came back home, hooked up with my mom, and never came around when I was growing up. I am the son of someone like Chris Kyle, someone who fought in a war and who never could come back to who he was before. I love this country, and I would gladly die to protect its freedoms. But nothing about Iraq was about defending our freedoms, or those of the Iraqi people. We went in under false pretenses, with no exit strategy, and a pie-in-the-sky understanding of just what the conflict would involve. Countless soldiers went over and died, and none of them got a fucking movie made about their life (by Clint Eastwood, nonetheless). None of them have been wrapped up in the flag, apple pie, and America by the shit-headed gutless cowards on Fox News, the pompous arrogant SOBs who helped Bush promote that war and looked the other way when the facts didn't line up with what they wanted. Freedom isn't free, yes, but it also isn't subject to abuse by those very people we put in charge of making sure we get to keep it.

But far be it from me to try and suggest that we shouldn't try and have a debate about the Iraq War, or the legacy of George W. Bush. Because then someone with a Twitter handle and a position of "celebrity" might attack me and call me names. Blake Shelton did that, to the Rogen/Moore crowd (and for the record: I find Rogen okay if not compelling as an actor, and Moore may be an overinflated gasbag of liberal/paranoid invective, but Fahrenheit 9/11 is one of the most important documents ever filmed). I guess hearing about that (and his using the old chestnut of "defending our freedoms") is what triggered this on my part. I couldn't give two fucks about Blake Shelton, or any of the other folks attacking Rogen and Moore (again, I'm a pinko liberal Commie-Nazi), but resorting to attacks when the facts aren't in your corner, when the idea of being subtle gets outweighed by the need to have the loudest megaphone in a sea of sound-bites, really pisses me off.

All of this is not to say that American Sniper is a bad film, or a good film; I haven't seen it, I don't plan on seeing it anytime soon, and I reserve the right to be wrong about everything I've said about it (except Cooper's accent; seriously, dude isn't even trying). But Chris Kyle didn't die to protect my freedoms anymore than he died to protect yours, or Sean Hannity's or Michael Moore's. He died because a crazy person shot him. Out soldiers died in Iraq because a president who was too busy worrying about his legacy to care about the consequences launched a war on a former enemy who had no ties whatsoever to 9/11 simply because the climate was ripe for such lying and chicanery. Freedom isn't free, but that doesn't mean it can't be destroyed with the very guns that a lot of people claim help uphold that very principle. And also, people should really see Inherent Vice, it's fucking amazing.

Now if you'll excuse me, the soapbox I'm on is getting awfully crowded.

Je Suis Charlie? Well, Yeah, But...

I realize that a lot of people make a lot of noise about the supposed imposition of stricter controls upon our rights to own guns in this country, but freedom of speech trumps freedom to bear arms every day and twice on Sunday as far as I'm concerned. Granted, we free-speech-ers don't have a ready-made slogan like the gun nuts ("you can take my freedom of speech when you pry it from my cold, dead hands" doesn't have the same ring to it), but I have never owned a gun, I don't plan on owning a gun, and if the government ever did come after me to take my gun, they'd be disappointed. Freedom of speech, even when you disagree with it, isn't just an American right. It's a human-being right, no matter where you are. The people who worry so much about protecting their penis-substitutes won't say a thing if someone's right to speak out (especially if the right to speak out is against gun violence) is taken from them.

The attacks on Charlie Hebdo have done what often occurs when issues of free speech come up in the past: they've made an unlikely martyr out of something that probably doesn't deserve it. What I've seen of the magazine's cartoons is pretty awful, content-wise. But here's the thing: you can think that, but that doesn't give you license to walk into the place and shoot it up. "Je Suis Charlie" is trending now on social media, and like a lot of things that "trend," the subtle arguments one could make about the tastefulness of the magazine's cartoons don't fit well under a hashtag. I may not like what I've seen of Charlie Hebdo, but I don't think anyone deserved to lose their lives over it.

Freedom of speech, the freedom to form your own thought and not have it imposed from you on high, is taken for granted in this country. We simply don't give a damn about protecting it, especially when someone says something that we don't agree with. Vile and hateful speech has been a particular victim of social media, which is a good thing: if someone's stupid enough to post something derogatory, they deserve the scorn that is usually unleashed upon them. But what the attackers (who claimed to be Islamic warriors, though I think that they cloaked their actions in the idea of Muslim beliefs to "justify" it, just as Crusaders dressed themselves up in the Christian Church to explain away their campaigns of bloodshed and plunder in the Holy Land) did is never, ever, ever okay. If anything, they defeated the claimed purpose of their own endeavor with their very actions: those cartoons that they sought to suppress will probably be seen, and by millions more eyeballs than the magazine frankly probably deserves. It is a victory for freedom of speech, even if that speech is disagreeable.

Consider someone who comes from an oppressive regime, where basic freedoms aren't available; you think they give a damn about getting their choice of firearms at the local WalMart if they've escaped years, decades of torture and terror elsewhere? Speech, and writing, are far more powerful than any bullet can ever hope to be. Words convey ideas, illustrations, revolutions. So while I question the logic behind the "offensive cartoons" in the first place, while I find much of what else the magazine has done to be tasteless and vulgar, I defend Charlie Hebdo's right to do what they do without the fear of violent reprisal. Because, goddam it, that doesn't fly with me. "Je suis Charlie"? If that's what you mean, than yeah, Je Suis Charlie.

Been Away for A While

I spent most of last week wishing I had an internet connection, because I had some frigging awesome Facebook update statuses planned. Now they're lost to the ether...

Actually, in our always-connected world, I think it's healthy to take some time off from social media, un-social media, anti-social media, and MySpace (I've been taking a break from that one since at least 2011. Seriously, I have no idea how to get into MySpace anymore, but I don't really care). Granted, that break is easier to manage when libraries are shut down and you're not too keen on the idea of bringing your laptop to the library parking lot and accessing the free WiFi. Also, the other people who usually loiter in said parking lot doing that scare the bejesus out of you (it's like all the pill-heads of Oconee County congregate in the parking lot...but I digress). But I have opinions on current events that must be shared!

First off: cops getting killed is always a tragedy, but it doesn't mean that the police union reps get to use that as an excuse to settle a personal beef with the mayor. I thought it was classless what the patrolmen did to de Blasio, turning their backs on him. Real good look for you guys, especially considering that you're not exactly living up to the "protect" part of "to protect and serve." Cops are like anyone else, there are good ones and there are bad ones. It just seems like the bad ones are hellbent on not being held accountable for it, and their feelings are hurt because the mayor of New York sided with the protestors. To equate peaceable demonstrations with the madman who gunned down two cops because he happened to say that's why he was doing it is pretty shitty.

Anyway, I spent a good chunk of last week working my way thru The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. I realize that, as Murakami writes in Japanese and has to be translated into English in order for me to read him (because I don't even know where to begin to learn Japanese), I probably miss something in the translation. But what I get in return is a very exciting, challenging, and beautiful novel. I have to think most of what Murakami does gets translated into the works, so if I did miss anything I still got to have a wonderful experience with the book. I highly recommend it, or really anything he's done (which can be iffy because I've only read four of his books, but based on those four I can recommend him highly).

I also drove to my "new favorite bookstore" in Greenville last week, though I didn't end up buying anything that day. I did go to another bookstore just a short drive back in the direction I'd come, and there I found a biography of Lester Bangs. Rock critics in general don't seem like the kind of guys whose lives are interesting enough to merit a full-scale biography, but Bangs was the exception to that rule. He paid the price for that, in a sense, but I've been a fan of his since receiving a copy of the posthumous collection Psychotic Reaction and Carburator Dung. One of the things Bangs stressed in his work was to not automatically worship someone just because they happened to be a talented singer or whatever; it's a lesson that we should all take to heart, really. The book (Let It Blurt, by Jim DeRogatis) was awesome.

Anyway, I have a cold now, so my New Year's plans include hopefully recovering in time to welcome in 2015 healthier than I am right at this moment. I might also want to look into getting WiFi at my house...or not. Like I said, taking breaks from this online crap is probably healthy, from time to time. Just so long as North Korea doesn't hack me, I'll be fine.