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i’ve been struggling with the idea of biography. are some ideas so brilliant that they transcend their author? or is the brilliance in how the idea reflects the person who reflects the world?
Thomas Jefferson was a slave-owning jackass whose own life didn’t live even an inch up to the ideas he set down in the Declaration of Independence. Keith Jarrett’s piano floats me into another stratosphere, even though i know cough drops are handed out at his concerts because he is known to walk out at the hint of even involuntary audience noise.
but then there are other artists whose work seems completely dependent on their biographies.
i was reading an article in The New Yorker on David Foster Wallace awhile back. he killed himself on September 12 of last year. his wife found him hanging above their patio.
my writing professor gave me one of Wallace’s books, Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, after my junior year, and i’ve tried to read it a few times since, unsuccessfully. too many words and not enough periods. so many complex thoughts stuffed into each neverending paragraph. reading his stuff was like trying to solve the Times’s Sunday puzzle while hungover–absolutely exhausting.
but now that i’ve read about his life–his depression and his failure to maintain the balance between his own intense expectations and real happiness–the “stem-winding” sentences make perfect sense. i need to pick the book up again, just so i can spot the sadness between the lines and study the way he’s trying to navigate the dark maze that he is simultaneously building.
i did the same thing with Elliot Smith. not a day after he shoved a knife through his own chest, i was absorbing every song i could find, trying to find hints to why. it was like listening to the ghost of a child who couldn’t quite remember what it was like to be alive.
from the article about Wallace:
“A typed note that Wallace left in his papers laid out his final novel’s idea: ‘Bliss—a-second-by-second joy and gratitude at the gift of being alive, conscious—lies on the other side of crushing, crushing boredom. Pay close attention to the most tedious thing you can find (Tax Returns, Televised Golf) and, in waves, a boredom like you’ve never known will wash over you and just about kill you. Ride these out, and it’s like stepping from black and white into color. Like water after days in the desert. Instant bliss in every atom.’”
the man wrote and he wrote well, but i never gave him any patience until he died dramatically. what does that mean?
Wallace once wrote in a letter to a friend, “I will be a fiction writer again or die trying.”
hmmm.
Photo: Rick Alfaro
a few days ago i gave a friend the link to my blog, and she said, “i’ll check it out, but i tend to think of blogging as pretentious.” i responded, “i’ll admit it–it is pretentious and attention seeking, but i can only write when i know i have an audience.”
the whole exchange stuck with me for awhile. how is blogging any more pretentious than playing guitar and singing at the local open mic? than displaying photos at the local coffee shop? than submitting a manuscript for publishing?
presumptuous, maybe.
the artist who displays or performs presumes that someone out there wants to experience their art. they hope to be seen and to convey some sort of message. some might be more pretentious than others in their artistic intentions, but i don’t know if the mere act of displaying their art is in itself pretentious.
i don’t blog to feel important or to magnify my self-worth. but the fact that i know that (at least three) people will read what i write brings mission to my writing. knowing that someone out there is waiting to read what i write gives me a reason to start and finish. it gives me a reason to edit and polish.
when i know someone else will be looking, i have to be totally accountable for my words.
i don’t think art created with the audience in mind is any less pure than that which is created never to be seen or experienced. i think it’s just different. once an artist decides to create for an audience, the audience immediately becomes part of that art, long before anyone actually experiences the piece.
i would never claim to be an artist, or even a writer. but i see a lot of things that i want to share, and i have a lot of questions to ask and a lot of muddled thoughts to sort out.
i put it all out there, here, in hopes that someone might want to walk beside me for a paragraph or two, silently or not. you bring me comfort and inspiration, even if you’re not really there.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Even when you are not feeling your best, you try hard. You’re strong when things are broken. Where there is hurt, you rise up with surprising resilience to provide help and inspiration. If there are people who don’t know where they are or where they’re going, you are often beacon of calm. Thank you, my beautiful friend. I applaud your urge to fight for justice not only in service to yourself but also on behalf of others who can’t be as composed as you are when things are broken. And I’m happy to inform you that the favors you’re doling out now will ultimately be returned in kind when you least expect it.
i’ve somehow made it onto my grandpa’s email list. a few excerpts (without edits–italics are mine):
THIS MUSLIM ALIEN (Obama) HAS AN AGENDA THAT IS ENTIRELY UNPALATABLE AND I AM THOROUGHLY CONCERN THAT THE MASS MEDIA ARE PERPETUALLY COW-TOWING TO THIS UNABASHED KENYAN MESSIAH.
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Subject: The Patriot Microchip
The PATRIOT MICRO CHIP is intended to be implanted in terrorists. The implant is specifically designed to be installed in the forehead. When properly installed it will allow the implantee to speak to God.
It comes in various sizes:
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this stuff scares me. i understand thoughtful dissent and sincere concern for the direction of the country, but i don’t really see these sorts of messages presenting any solutions beyond shouting “you’re wrong and i’m right!” (at best) or raw violence (at worst). i also don’t see any substantial reasoning to any of it. no logic, no research–just sheer emotion and fear.
i get fundamental differences in philosophy. i get how a small-government Republican who believes every person (rather than society as a whole) is responsible for their own well-being would think that the economic stimulus package going through Congress right now is completely misguided. and i get how a true-blue liberal who believes in creating opportunities for all people would have problems understanding why CEOs are compensated hundreds of millions of dollars when there are homeless people wandering the sidewalks outside the buildings where they work.
what i don’t get is the complete refusal of those on both ends of the spectrum to have a conversation. not an argument on CNN, but a discussion where each side hears out the experiences of the other. because that’s all our beliefs are–values shaped by how we’ve experienced the world. when you start to see people as a product of their experiences, you begin to see that there is no “wrong” or “right;” that there are simply different knowledge pools, more or less access to information, and more or less contact with people of different experiences.
i can’t get mad at a kid in Rock River, Wyoming for calling me a dyke when his only experiences of gay people has been what he’s seen on tv and what his homophobic father taught him. and i can’t get mad at a Yale student from Boston for calling a guy wearing Wranglers and a cowboy hat an ignorant redneck when that student’s only experience of cowboys has been what he’s seen on tv and what his Harvard dad taught him.
the best i can do is call people on their assumptions and snap judgments, and simply ask them, “what do you really know about that person? what do you know about what they’ve been through?”
and maybe that’s what i need to do with my grandpa’s emails. maybe i just need to ask him if he’s ever really considered where the “terrorists” are coming from. maybe i need to ask him what about Obama scares him so much.
or maybe i’m being naive (as so many people have told me many times). maybe i just need to delete the emails as soon as they come into my box and accept the fact that he’s never going to let loose his grip on what he so strongly believes is “right.”
i just wish we’d all stop and listen to each other once in awhile instead of constantly seeking out only those who agree with us and demonizing those who don’t.
i’ve lived through so many patches of weakness in my 30 years. through failures in (or total absence of) confidence, through white-knuckled clutching to fear, through blind spots in reasoning, through simple ignorance. i’ve lied and cheated. i’ve cried behind the locked bathroom door at work, and i’ve punched cinder-block walls. i’ve hurt and been hurt.
but i have not one ounce of regret for any of those moments. not for the two times i cheated on the people i loved. at the time, they were brief lapses of judgment, the succumbing to the thrill of someone else hotly pursuing me in a haze of alcohol and other clouds. in retrospect, though, it was my cowardly way of punctuating struggling relationships, my way of pushing through the dirt to the surface. i am so sorry for the pain i threw around so carelessly, but i wouldn’t do it differently if i could.
not for the times i was cheated on. it’s one thing to be devastated by betrayal, and it’s the next thing to realize that, had the relationship been open to honesty and trust going in two directions in the first place, things might have gone differently.
not for the months of insomnia that filled my nights with a blinding pulse and my days with ghosts. i broke it down a thousand ways, stalking its shadow across the pages of health magazines, through friends’ advice, inside slow songs, within meditation and finally to surrender. in that, i learned the difference between wasting time and paying better attention to empty time. which is when i started sleeping again.
i read recently that growth requires tension. it’s why we lift weights to build muscle. it’s why we tend to like the teachers who are toughest on us.
people always say, “if i knew then what i know now, i’d…” the thing is, we know what we know now because of what happened then. would it be worth losing that knowledge to go back and prevent the struggle?
…and didn’t see this on facebook:
1. i was born and raised in Darth Vad-, i mean Dick Cheney’s hometown. everything is named after him–the courthouse, the (other) high school’s stadium. it makes me want to become a vandal.
2. i love wasabi peas. a great salty substitute for chips.
3. the part of my body that i am most proud of is the giant scar on my knee. makes me feel tough. i’ll show it to you even if you don’t want to see it.
4. i’ve driven across the country (North Fork of Long Island to Los Angeles) twice, roundtrip. the first time: from NY to WY by myself, from Casper to Las Vegas with my grandma, and the rest of the way with random girls from Belgium (don’t ask–it’s a long, boring story). the second time: with my ex. i also did the CT to WY drive quite a few times.
5. i am unabashedly unashamed of my love for facebook.
6. i’m not afraid to ask you for your money if it’s for something i truly and passionately believe in.
7. i can’t think of one thing (besides Lauren) that i would be absolutely devastated losing if my apartment burned down.
8. i think my love for beer is fading. i’d rather be drinking white wine. i’m not cool enough for red.
9. the last time i was in love with an entire album was In Rainbows by Radiohead. the last time i was in love with a song was Scott Joplin’s Bethena (A Concert Waltz).
10. i regularly miss my old friends and can’t understand why we can’t connect better. and i readily admit that it’s probably my fault.
11. i ADORE furry animals, but they make me seriously ill.
12. i am often reminding myself to practice what i preach.
13. in college, i dreamed of writing for the New Yorker, but now i just read it every week.
14. i tend to believe i’m in pretty good shape. before my knee dissolved playing soccer last month, i was running 5k a few times a week and working out. now i can only make it 2.5 miles until my lower leg starts doing this burny numb thing.
15. i never thought i was very good at soccer.
16. i love that Lauren just gets me. and when she doesn’t, she lets me be me anyhow.
17. i deplore the “funny before nice” philosophy.
18. it was a tie for my favorite Christmas gift between the Iron Gym and the UConn hoodie.
19. i didn’t realize until i was an upperclassman in college that i was totally crushed out on two girls in high school.
20. i’ve had three nicknames in my life: skins, sprout, and bear.
21. i’m currently reading “Everyday Zen” and “Why We Hate Us”.
22. i lost at least two “best” friends when i came out.
23. i was most unhappy when i was living in the most beautiful house in one of the most beautiful places in the country.
24. i don’t understand why East-coasters say ore-gone. it’s ore-gun.
25. i once went camping with one of my favorite singers, and i spent more time having a blast with her son than hanging out with her.
lauren: i got your eye stuff.
the lady was all smily at me.
i was highly suspicious.
me: why suspicious?
lauren: who smiles anymore!?
i had a dream last night that Lauren and i had a little baby girl named Genevieve Phred with a “ph”. (the “ph” was a very emphatic point.) it was implied that i had actually given birth to Genny Phred, though i had no connection to that experience in the dream. at first, my family thought it was a boy, and my mom suggested i name him Steve Adam. and i thought, “wait a second…do you mean like Adam and Steve?” then we checked the baby’s hardware again, and discovered that Steve Adam would be inappropriate in more ways than one.
it’s no coincidence that i’m dreaming about baby-making. last night, my mom was giving me the “your dad and i are never going to have grandchildren, are we?” spiel she launches into once or twice a year, and for the first time i didn’t roll my eyes or dump the responsibility onto my heterosexual, married sister.
i turned 30 a month ago, and while the milestone hasn’t brought on any crisis of rushed adulthood and responsibility like so many people seemed to be hoping it would, it has brought into sharper focus the liabilities of my aging body. no, my hearing isn’t going and my eyesight seems to actually be holding steady at “really bad” (which is where it’s been since i was 22). i still run 5k three or four times a week, and i was playing soccer until a month ago. but my knees ache a lot of the time, and i just found out i have arthritis in my feet.
i’m beginning to realize that my body only has so much time to do the amazing things it was built to do. i played soccer for years, and i’m only now acknowledging that i was pretty good at it. but now my knees are telling me that if i’m going to be running a lot, it needs to be in a straight line at a steady pace. the feeling is moving upwards, mainly into my heart and head. it started with all the cuddle-time i had with my newborn nephew (Lauren’s sister’s son). then i started to notice all the children in my world, from inquisitive toddlers at the grocery store to the incredible young woman i mentor. i talk to my college roommate about her two children, and i find myself getting jealous.
i think i’m becoming that cliche, and i don’t mind.
the clock is ticking, and it’s freaking Lauren out. “Genevieve Phred is a cool name,” she said a little nervously after i told her about my dream. she’s not ready, and she’s told me so. it’s something we’ll have to keep talking about, something we’ll keep on the list after getting married and buying a house. the five-to-ten-year plan.
in the meantime, though, i’ll continue to believe that the piece on Sunday Morning about surrogate mothers was on this morning as my own personal, albeit sideways, reminder. and i’m going to hang onto Genny Phred, but probably not Steve Adam.
Seth Godin strikes again:
The neat thing about the online world is that you are judged almost entirely by your actions, usually based on just your fingers.
If you do generous things, people think you are a generous person.
If you bully people, people assume you are a bully.
If you ask dumb questions, people figure you’re dumb.
Answer questions well and people assume you’re smart and generous.
… you get the idea.
his conclusion:
Online interactions are largely expected to be intentional. On purpose. Planned. People assume you did stuff for a reason.
Be clear, be generous, be kind. Can’t hurt.
read the entire entry here.
have i mentioned that pretty much anyone who wants to do the right thing, especially when it comes to business, should read this guy’s blog everyday?
