This man (link) needs to find another calling.
It makes sense that if you’re going to say something, say it in the most effective manner possible, but please—PLEASE—stop opening every speech with a spew of rhetoric. I get the sense that either President Obama or his speechwriter imagine listening to these speeches thirty years down the road, and man, they want them to sound eloquent. The problem, at least in the beginning of the speech, was that nothing was being said. President Obama understands the fear that keeps us up late at night. He understands we’re scared. But things will get better! (Standing ovation)
Things started to heat up towards the middle—President Obama explained that:
1. He’s going to fix the economy
2. He’s going to get affordable healthcare for every American, and what’s more
3. It’s time to cure cancer.
4. Education needs to available to every child, birth to beginning of career.
Does anyone disagree with any of these goals? I very much doubt it, but there was very little concrete presentation; just an unending flow of optimism, laced with a moment of slightly unsettling rhetoric—did anyone else pause when the President declared that if you choose to not pursue higher education, you’re “not quitting on yourself, you’re quitting on America!” Not going to college just progressed from a personal choice to an un-American activity. Sort of reminds me of something… (link)
I will say that I thought it was encouraging to hear there was a line-by-line budget cut in progress, and that Pres. Obama’s committee had already cut enough to save 2.2 trillon over the next decade. Before he gave that information, however, he put in a brief note about the auto bailout that I think was somewhat of a paradox, claiming that “we should not protect them (auto industry) from their bad choices.”
But we did! Why? Because “…the nation that invented the auto industry can’t walk away from it.” Is this really a reason for billions of dollars to be spent? What could that money have done for creating alternative forms of transportation?
Anyway. I thought there were some strong moments in the speech. I’m not sure what “Cold War defense systems” Obama was talking about dismantling (stock piles of A-bombs, H-bombs, and Star Wars type stuff I’m guessing...anyone know?), but it seems reasonable that that stuff has long been useless. Abu Ghraib was undeniably an embarrassment, and our intelligence community has a long, painful history of power abuse (in every sense of the word). Reform is necessary there.
Ups, downs...sifting for actual information shouldn't be as difficult as these speeches are making it…
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Immortal Words!
There’s a lot of ideas floating around about what it means to be a writer. Sometimes I think I take the idea a lot less seriously than other people—other writers—that I know. For instance, Saturday night Angela and I were watching the movie Sylvia (Yes, it’s the true story of Sylvia Plath, who turned on her oven and gassed herself, but it was sort of a love story…anyway, we also cooked a romantic dinner together), and there’s a scene in the movie where Sylvia and Ted Hughes go to Hughes’s apartment with two of his friends, and for a good time they take turns reciting poetry with really serious faces, while the other people in the apartment yell “Faster! Faster!”
Yikes. Not cool. Is that supposed to look fun to me, because I’m a poet?
I used to wonder whether I should even call myself a writer or a poet, like it’s some special title that must be earned, and until I’m making loads of money I have to tell people I’m an aspiring writer. (to me, that reads: aspiring money maker)
I spend the majority of my time writing. I’m trying to make a career of it. What else should I call myself?
Anyway, after cutting through some of the bull, it’s hard to figure out whether the media is mirroring writers, or the other way around. I was talking with someone in my program a while back about something another student had written, and the person I was with said something along the lines of: …I don’t know why they’re wasting their time writing that stuff, it’s not immortal, like the words of the great poets.
Again, yikes. Who are the great poets? Is that what we’re suppose to be doing? Cranking out immortal words? Not possible—and if it was, I’m not sure I’d be interested.
I grimace when people make statements like “All art stems from sadness.” (L. Hughes, I think) I think inspiration is a slippery idea, and I haven’t seen it succeed apart from some manner of discipline. And rather than believe that writing is a sort of divine gift, I enjoy telling people that anyone can be taught to write—otherwise, why am I wasting my time teaching a freshman comp. course?
The source of many writer’s instability—because it’s undeniable that the profession has lost more than it’s share to early death—I think stems from a variety of sources: the problematic writing culture we have, other misguided writers, the desire for social status… and, I also think it’s simply a problem that any critical thinkers deal with.
When finding your own way--necessary, in our culture-- you just might start to lose your bearings somewhere in the wilderness.
A shred of the problem I'm beating around the bush about is evidenced by a volume I’m reading right now by Jack Spicer, another early death. The title of the collected works is the same as his dying words, which were “My vocabulary did this to me.”
Maybe. That catchy phrase will certainly inspire a host of fools to drink and write bad poetry, but I wonder how much of Spicer’s problem was vocabulary and how much was due to other factors? Could it have been your vocabulary…and the fact that you were a raging alcoholic? What if Spicer had been a philosopher? A teacher? A pastor?
The power of words I believe in, and even some of the mystery, and admittedly there’s a lot I still don’t understand—the idea of a genius still intrigues me, although I’ve never met one. (I’m more comfortable with the word “brilliant.” I think 99% of the time it’s more accurate.)
Yikes. Not cool. Is that supposed to look fun to me, because I’m a poet?
I used to wonder whether I should even call myself a writer or a poet, like it’s some special title that must be earned, and until I’m making loads of money I have to tell people I’m an aspiring writer. (to me, that reads: aspiring money maker)
I spend the majority of my time writing. I’m trying to make a career of it. What else should I call myself?
Anyway, after cutting through some of the bull, it’s hard to figure out whether the media is mirroring writers, or the other way around. I was talking with someone in my program a while back about something another student had written, and the person I was with said something along the lines of: …I don’t know why they’re wasting their time writing that stuff, it’s not immortal, like the words of the great poets.
Again, yikes. Who are the great poets? Is that what we’re suppose to be doing? Cranking out immortal words? Not possible—and if it was, I’m not sure I’d be interested.
I grimace when people make statements like “All art stems from sadness.” (L. Hughes, I think) I think inspiration is a slippery idea, and I haven’t seen it succeed apart from some manner of discipline. And rather than believe that writing is a sort of divine gift, I enjoy telling people that anyone can be taught to write—otherwise, why am I wasting my time teaching a freshman comp. course?
The source of many writer’s instability—because it’s undeniable that the profession has lost more than it’s share to early death—I think stems from a variety of sources: the problematic writing culture we have, other misguided writers, the desire for social status… and, I also think it’s simply a problem that any critical thinkers deal with.
When finding your own way--necessary, in our culture-- you just might start to lose your bearings somewhere in the wilderness.
A shred of the problem I'm beating around the bush about is evidenced by a volume I’m reading right now by Jack Spicer, another early death. The title of the collected works is the same as his dying words, which were “My vocabulary did this to me.”
Maybe. That catchy phrase will certainly inspire a host of fools to drink and write bad poetry, but I wonder how much of Spicer’s problem was vocabulary and how much was due to other factors? Could it have been your vocabulary…and the fact that you were a raging alcoholic? What if Spicer had been a philosopher? A teacher? A pastor?
The power of words I believe in, and even some of the mystery, and admittedly there’s a lot I still don’t understand—the idea of a genius still intrigues me, although I’ve never met one. (I’m more comfortable with the word “brilliant.” I think 99% of the time it’s more accurate.)
Monday, February 2, 2009
More Pop-Culture Musings
I thought B. Springsteen did a great job at the halftime show, but after I read this article today, I have to admit that the writer made some interesting points. Here's an excerpt:
Nothing will ever compete for sheer tone-deafness with Paul McCartney playing a zealous Super Bowl rendition of "Live and Let Die" at the height of the Iraq war. But Springsteen would have put America on its ass—its mind shortly to follow—had he strolled out with a Martin and played "The Wrestler." (And how about a nice "This one's for Danny," aka Danny Federici, the recently deceased keyboardist who was with Bruce for more than 40 years?) The national mood is sober bordering on a galloping panic. Lively as he was, I wouldn't say the Boss did much to either banish or capture it.
Right?And here's the link to the entire article, He Should Have Played "The Wrestler" if you're curious: http://www.slate.com/id/2210287/
The article is from slate.com, which is a really great online magazine (where else would you find an article about season 3 of Friday Night Lights titled Where in tarnation is Jason Street?) Loads of interesting columns on aspects of pop-culture that aren't always given their due in mainstream media, and what's more, Robert Pinsky is the poetry editor and he usually chooses/writes material that appeals to my tastes (and thus, possibly yours as well!).
Pictures forthcoming. Seriously.
Nothing will ever compete for sheer tone-deafness with Paul McCartney playing a zealous Super Bowl rendition of "Live and Let Die" at the height of the Iraq war. But Springsteen would have put America on its ass—its mind shortly to follow—had he strolled out with a Martin and played "The Wrestler." (And how about a nice "This one's for Danny," aka Danny Federici, the recently deceased keyboardist who was with Bruce for more than 40 years?) The national mood is sober bordering on a galloping panic. Lively as he was, I wouldn't say the Boss did much to either banish or capture it.
Right?And here's the link to the entire article, He Should Have Played "The Wrestler" if you're curious: http://www.slate.com/id/2210287/
The article is from slate.com, which is a really great online magazine (where else would you find an article about season 3 of Friday Night Lights titled Where in tarnation is Jason Street?) Loads of interesting columns on aspects of pop-culture that aren't always given their due in mainstream media, and what's more, Robert Pinsky is the poetry editor and he usually chooses/writes material that appeals to my tastes (and thus, possibly yours as well!).
Pictures forthcoming. Seriously.
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