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Poetry: Three for Valentine’s Day

Monday, February 14th, 2011

Retarded

If I wrote this
Even a little better,
You’d fall in love
When you read it.
Not with this,
But with me,
Unless I wanted you
To fall in love with this,
In which case you would.
Fall in love, that is.
So I’ve held up
And held back,
Just a bit,
Out of respect for you,
Knowing that it might be
Inconvenient right now
For you to
Fall in love.


How to Fuck in High Heels

First you’ve got to find
A great pair of high heels.
Maybe black or red or pink,
Depending on your style,
But they should make you feel
Sensational.
Search all over town,
If you have to,
Try them all on.
They shouldn’t pinch too much and
You should imagine how they’ll look
When they’re way up in the air.
(Might as well lie down in the store.)
Second best isn’t good enough,
But keep back part of what you’ve got
For other important things in life.
Take those babies home and
Buckle in tight around the ankles.
Now you’ve just got to find
Someone to fall in love with you.
Fuck.


My Dog Understands Jesus

Why do I have to stop loving you,
I said.
Because I don’t love you back,
She said.
That never stopped God,
I said.
Jesus,
She said.
Yes, or Gandhi,
I said.
Or the dog,
She said.
Bark.  Bark.  Bark bark,
He said.
He’s sad too,
I said,
Sad too.

Who decides whether someone is “elite” or good?

Sunday, May 16th, 2010

I don’t usually publish on the weekends (and I’m likely off-topic), but there’s an editorial in the Washington Post today titled “Why elites do belong on the Supreme Court“.  It’s written by Christopher Edley, Jr., the Dean of Berkeley Law School.

Generally speaking, Dean Edley argues that it’s a good thing our United States Supreme Court is now completely dominated by Harvard and Yale law graduates.  I couldn’t disagree more.  In fact, I believe his views represent arrogance of the worst sort.  His editorial contains all kinds of presumptuous language, flawed logic and assumptions, and provides an excellent example of much that is wrong with academics in general and the culture of picking justices.

He writes: “[W]hat matters is intellectual horsepower, not office-chat charm. It is wisdom and analysis, not personal experiences. If a judge’s life is elite in the sense of excellence, that’s fine. In fact, that may be the point.”

According to Edley, if the Harvard and Yale law schools think a person is excellent, then that person must actually be excellent because they’ve demonstrated the proper “intellectual horsepower”.  I disagree.  All this person has necessarily demonstrated is that they are one specific type of achiever.  These students took the right classes, did the right things, and knew the right people.  Is it anything shocking to admit that they probably came from a privileged family?  The law admissions process is essentially a filter for personality and mindset.  It rewards high undergraduate grades and a high LSAT score.  It’s no secret that getting good grades in college is largely a process of learning to parrot and regurgitate knowledge back to your professors.  I don’t think that skill is useful for a Supreme Court Justice.  Likewise, I have no faith that a high standardized test score is any accurate predictor of whether someone will make a “good” Associate Justice – whatever that means.

Edley poses the question about nominee selection: “Do you want someone like you or someone better than you?”  The obvious implication is that Harvard and Yale graduates are “someone better than you.”  This disturbing attitude is entirely too prevalent in academia and government.  Furthermore, I find it literally dangerous to my idea of democracy when anyone spreads the gospel that government officials may be somehow better than ordinary citizens.  I worry about a natural tendency for these officials to group themselves with others who are “better than you” and forget entirely what it’s like to be the guy behind the grocery’s deli counter.  I’m concerned that when it comes time for these officials to review how “someone better than you” can treat “you”, it might not go so well for “you”.

I disagree that letting in a few physics major underwear models or single-parent firefighter medievalists significantly changes the mix.  Almost by definition, the process often excludes creative or critical thinkers.  There are many brilliant students who might have gotten B’s instead of A’s because they sidetracked into thoughts or ideas that their professors considered too unusual or different.  Or maybe they questioned a professor’s opinion or viewpoint.  According to Edley, professors are “someone better than you” – and you should listen to them.  I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.

I would suggest that Edley’s reference to the military’s personnel system as a shining example was simply a mistake – it could be argued that the military is one of the least meritocratic institutions in America.  One could say that military advancement is often had by just sticking around, doing what you’re told, knowing the right people, and not making a fuss.  History is littered with less-than-brilliant admirals and generals.  At the very least, the armed forces has little reputation for rewarding creativity or critical thinking.

I note that Edley says he was a Harvard professor for 20+ years – which clouds his opinion with the worst sort of self-congratulatory back-patting.  Is he suggesting that he, too, is “excellent” and has “intellectual horsepower” because Harvard picked him?  Is he suggesting that he has a right to tell us who does and doesn’t have “uncommon smarts” because he, too, was at Harvard?  How circular and arrogant is this argument?

Edley also writes that, “[a]t every turn [Kagan] has excelled in a meritocratic system, one that is selective yet far more open than in generations past.”  This makes several assumptions about the fairness of the “meritocratic system” that I’m uncomfortable with.  I’m not sure almost any system operates completely on merit, but I’m sure the answers would vary by who you ask.  If you asked Edley, Kagan, and others on top of the system, I’m sure they would tell you that the system is great.  But you’d probably get different responses from people who couldn’t go to Harvard or Yale for one reason or another.  It’s like asking the guys in prison whether the criminal justice system works.  Finally, am I supposed to feel comfortable with Edley’s vague claim that the system is “far more open”?  Openness isn’t all about letting in 51% women and 10% minorities.

Maybe Edley’s most disturbing statement is: “At the Supreme Court level, it’s all about finding oracles for Olympus.”  Do I even have to attack the underlying assumptions behind calling these citizens “oracles for Olympus”?  Are Harvard and Yale graduates gods?  Are our Justices gods?  I have to ask: Were they gods before they were confirmed or do they only become gods afterwards?  I thought our American philosophy of government discouraged exaltation of our government officials in this way.  Judges and justices – even if they’re “better than you” – do not communicate with gods in a way that mere mortals cannot.  Edley’s apparent belief that these people might bring down the laws from somewhere elevated is outrageous and completely out-of-touch.

I don’t understand why there’s not more uproar about this.  Are Harvard and Yale graduates really that much better than anyone else?  I doubt it – and we shouldn’t let anyone convince us that they are “somebody better than you”.  Does anyone else in America feel inadequately represented by a Supreme Court composed entirely of Jews and Catholics, all attenders of Harvard and Yale, and primarily from New York or California?  This kind of narrow monopoly on who can be considered “elite” is bad for the country.

I debated posting this here, because it doesn’t appear obviously relevant to a forum which mostly focuses on arts and creativity.  But it’s also a blog about Birmingham, Alabama – a city that’s often told it’s inferior.  And I also often encourage everyday people to pursue whatever creativity you possess – directly in the face of anyone who might tell you that you shouldn’t be singing, painting, making music, or dancing.  Don’t abandon any field, creative or otherwise, to self-selected “experts”.

Dance Critic Wins Pulitzer

Friday, April 16th, 2010

If you’re here because you’re interested in dance, I’d like to make you aware that Sarah Kaufman – dance critic for the Washington Post – was awarded the 2010 Pulitzer for criticism.

I’ve already linked to a couple of her earlier articles here and here.  You can also find her article on Michael Jackson here.

I’m going to reprint the first part of her excellent article, “One-Man Movement”, but you can find the rest of it at this link.

***

One-Man Movement: Cary Grant Set a Pace for On-Screen Grace That’s Left His Followers Mostly in the Dust

By Sarah Kaufman
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Washington Post Staff Writer

“North by Northwest,” Alfred Hitchcock’s sprawling 1959 thriller that takes us to the top of Mount Rushmore by way of a near-miss with a killer crop-duster, begins with the basics. A man is walking down a corridor.

But because the man is Cary Grant, the moment is anything but ordinary. He has us at the first step: that long, brisk stride and its driving rhythm, a ticktock pace that telegraphs purpose, clarity and elegant efficiency. We watch him stroll out of an elevator toward the street, dictating correspondence to the secretary at his side. He’s not some stiff, starchy suit. There’s a relaxed, easy give in Grant’s body as he moves, and as he leans toward his secretary while he speaks to her — he’s so very pleased with his own labors, and yet so exquisitely courteous to his assistant. A nice guy, and smooth as whiskey, too. He’s getting further under our skin with every move.

What Grant’s character, advertising executive Roger Thornhill, is actually saying in this scene isn’t nearly as important as his movement. It’s the movement that hooks us. It always does. Intuition? Training? Astute directors? Whatever its source, Grant knew a timeless truth: There is nothing we watch so keenly as the human body in action, because the way it moves tells a story.

The art of moving well, call it kinetic acting, has nearly vanished from movies today. I don’t mean among dancers on the big screen — that’s a different subject altogether — but among actors. The attention to physical expression, to one’s carriage and gestures and their dramatic and emotional implications, has faded. I’m talking about a sense of grace. About acting that involves a meaningful motor impulse. A signature style of moving, bigger than just body language or bits of what actors call “business” — lighting a cigarette, picking up a drink. Think of Gary Cooper’s quick, impatient stride across town to the church in “High Noon,” when he thinks he’ll be able to round up a posse among the worshipers, folks to join his fight against a group of killers. And then his stiff, pained walk back to town after he fails to find help. He doesn’t say a word, but the heaviness he feels is right there in his legs. You ache watching him.

A person’s way of moving through space tells us something on a base, primitive level. It’s animal to animal. It’s something so subtle you may not consciously notice it, but when an actor moves honestly and with intention, your eye will follow him anywhere.

The trouble is, you don’t see it that much. The buzz around this year’s Oscar favorites got me thinking about how the artistic trend in acting has gone from the external to the internal. We’re in the age of the close-up. Realism and psychological truth rule, and you find them in facial expression, in the little muscles around the eyes. The focus has tightened. Sure, there’s gobs of emphasis on sexy bodies, but the body as an expressive instrument just isn’t much in the picture.

Perhaps this is because actors aren’t formally trained in dance and movement much anymore, as they were in the early years of filmmaking. There’s also the invasion of psychoanalysis, and the rise of Method acting starting about a half-century or so ago, with its emphasis on emotion, interior motives and lots of mental preparation. Actors started questioning the precise blocking of action — the choreography of the scene — that was so prized by Grant, Cooper, Carole Lombard, Katharine Hepburn and other stars going back to the 1930s and ’40s. For that era, physical elegance signaled inner elegance. Actors today seek more of a warts-and-all approach.

More at this link.

Poetry: The Lies I Tell My Dog

Monday, March 29th, 2010

The Lies I Tell My Dog

So he’ll jump
In my truck,
I’ll tell him
Pretty much anything.

C’mon,
Let’s go for a ride -
It’ll be fun -
You like the truck.

C’mon boy,
We’re going somewhere
Really cool.
It’ll be like a
Doggie party
With bitches
And cheese.

Come on,
You’ll get nothing but
Petted and scratched and rubbed.
Everybody’s going to
Love you.

Up In the Air

Friday, February 5th, 2010

I saw Up In the Air a while back, but I keep thinking back on it.  Just for fun, here’s a snippet of the dialogue that I thought was pretty terrific.

***

Natalie – I thought I’d be engaged by now.  (catches herself)  No offense.

Alex – It’s alright.
Ryan – None taken.

Natalie – When I was sixteen, I thought by twenty three, I would be married, maybe have a kid…  Corner office by day, entertaining by night.  I was supposed to be driving a Grand Cherokee by now.

Alex – Life can underwhelm you that way.

Natalie – Now I have my sights on twenty nine, because thirty is just way too… apocalyptic.  I mean, where did you think you’d be by…  (she catches herself, having no idea how old Alex is)

Alex – It doesn’t work that way.
Ryan – At a certain point, you stop with the deadlines.
Alex – They can be a little counterproductive.

Natalie – I don’t want to say anything that’s… anti-feminist.  I mean, I really appreciate everything your generation did for me.

Alex – (my generation?)  It was our pleasure.

Natalie – But sometimes it feels like no matter how much success I have, it all won’t matter until I find the right guy.

Alex – You really thought this guy was the one.

Natalie – Yeah, I guess.  I don’t know.  I could have made it work.  He just really fit the bill.

Ryan – The bill?

Natalie – My type.  You know, white collar.  College grad.  Loves dogs.  Likes funny movies.  Six foot one.  Brown hair.  Kind eyes.  Works in finance but is Outdoorsy, you know, on the weekends.  (we think she’s done)  I always imagined he’d have a single syllable name like Matt or John or… Dave.  In a perfect world, he drives a Four Runner and the only thing he loves more than me is his golden lab.  Oh… and a nice smile.  (back to Alex and Ryan)  How about you?  (This catches both Alex and Ryan off guard.)

Ryan – I’m not sure if…

Natalie – I meant Alex…

Ryan – Right.

Alex – Huh, let me think for a sec.  (mulls it over)  Well, by the time you’re thirty four, all the physical requirements are pretty much out the window.  I mean you secretly pray he’ll be taller than you.  (smiles)  Not an asshole would be nice?  Just someone who enjoys my company.  Comes from a good family – You don’t think about that when you’re younger.  (thinking)  Wants kids…  Likes kids.   Wants kids.  Healthy enough to play catch with his future son one day.  (We can tell Ryan is taking a serious interest in this.)  Please let him earn more than I do.  That doesn’t make sense now, but believe me, it will one day.  Otherwise it’s just a recipe for disaster.  (reaching)  Hopefully some hair on his head…?  But it’s not exactly a deal-breaker anymore.  Nice smile…  Yep, a nice smile just might do it.  (Looks to Ryan.  He has a nice smile.)

Natalie – Wow.  That was depressing. . . . I don’t mind being married to my career, and I don’t expect it to hold me in bed as I fall asleep.  (looks up)  I just don’t want to settle.

Alex – You’re young.  Right now you see settling as some sort of failure.

Natalie – It is.  By definition.

Alex – Don’t worry, by the time someone is right for you, it won’t feel like settling…  And the only person left to judge you will be the twenty four year old girl with a target on your back.