Are You More Mature Than A Three Year Old? I Know I'm Not...

Everyone's been telling me I'm ribald, recently. I really don't understand why. I mean, they usually tell me this just after I've finished explaining how much hair I have on my head...

Wait... Who Lives in a Barrel?

I wonder how good reading really is for you, sometimes.

Yes, I realize that's a strange statement, especially coming from someone who obviously enjoys the written word. But it's true. The reason this line of thought keeps on meandering into my stream-of-consciousness, is because I know for a while I was simply spending all my free time reading books. Last year, every free second I got, I just wanted to read books. And you know what? I'm not so sure that was the best thing for my brain. I'm not so sure the best way to become intelligent is by constantly reading. As is most likely apparent, I do believe words are wonderful tools. I nearly salivate over them sometimes. At the end of the day, though, what makes books better than documentaries, shows based in history, or even intelligently written cinema?

As an example, I'm just finishing up When We Were Orphans, by Kazuo Ishiguro. It's a delicious book, and a great pleasure to read. The narrator is interesting, and without his perspective, the book would be boring. Books, quite simply, have certain strengths other media just can't imitate. For instance, when trying to truly explore the perspective of a character, words work the best. Sure, other media can successfuly imitate literature's strengths: look at Harrison Ford's voice-over in Blade Runner. But it's just not the same. Books, and to a lesser extent other forms of literature, simply do that more naturally.

But at the same time, the combination of sounds and visuals that film provide also give film a different, unique touch. Can you truly capture the feel of a close-up in a book? What about a panoramic view looking down from a mountain? Try as hard as they might, books simply cannot describe these things and get the same effect as films would.

So I was thinking about the differences between the two media as I watched Reign: The Conqueror. (It's basically this kick-ass anime about Alexander the Great's life, for those not in the know.) I suddenly realized how much I was learning from the show, and how much it was really making history "come alive," to borrow an ironically unlively phrase.

I was meeting the various characters, and learning in particular about Hephaestion, Diogones the Dog, and Dinocrates. I'd heard of the first two before, but simply hadn't known them very well. What's up with this Hepheastion fellow, was he really having sex with Alexander? And what about Diogones? Living in a barrel? WTF?

But watching that show, I'd really come to understand Alexander the Great's time period much better.

So is When We Were Orphans supposed to be better for me than Reign? I've enjoyed Orphans greatly, but have I learned much from it? It simply doesn't seem fair to say the former is more educational than the latter. I understand that reading literature can build one's vocabulary, but I hadn't come across any new words. I understand that literature is more educational because it doesn't spoon-feed everything to you, but I found Reign less easy to understand and much less straightforward than Orphans. Is Orphans still better for me to read? Is the knowledge gained from Reign less valuable than the simple act of reading?

I know I've heard that TV watchers have less brain activity than people who are sleeping. I know I've heard that Americans are spending any extra leisure time they get on television, and that's what's making us so dull. I know most adults would judge a child that only reads books much better than one who watches tv and then reads maybe a book or two a year.

But why? How? When I'm watching a byzantine television show, trying to puzzle everything out, how is it my brain is barely functioning? Could that possibly relate to me? Do most people simply zone out in front of the screen, instead of passionately participating with what they're watching?

I don't know. But I'd love to hear what you think.

Orson and the Amazing Technicolor Prostitutes

So I said, "That's not a male prostitute, that's my wife!"

To those of you who are wondering, "Is that the best he can come up with after two and a half months?" Well... err...

I guess it's kind of cool that a cyclone was actually named Orson.

*Scratches head*

But yeah, I'm sorry. I kind of doubt this blog is going to be posted on anything resembling a normal schedule. That said, how much of me could anyone handle, anyway?

*Johnny in the front row turns into a pillar of salt*
Damn it!

Cyclops and Producers and Riddlers, Oh My! Or: Waiting for the Past in the Golden Age

Have you ever had one of those days where you say, “Whoa! That Cyclopish guy from ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou; that guy from the Producers; and that guy who voiced The Riddler in Batman: The Animated Series are all doing Waiting for Godot on Broadway! *squeal*”

Oh… I’m the only one? OK, then.

Well, watching this interview, I felt I had good reason for squealing. Nathan Lane‘s passion and eloquence was awe-inspiring. John Goodman had a happy yet troubled air about him. Bill Irwin obviously knew what he was talking about and John Glover was profuse in his deserved complements toward the others. The group’s passion and awesome stage presence seemed to really click with each other and Charlie Rose.

It was interesting to watch because I had recently read a post on Dick Cavett’s NYT blog. In it, Cavett said how there can only be a couple of awesome conversationalists at a time. Then some of the comments lamented the downfall of the talk show, proclaiming its death by capitalism. They said people simply come on to advertise their products instead of actually discussing things.

You could argue the Godot cast was simply trying to get their product out into the limelight. If so, I don’t care. This interview certainly did not seem like a simple infomercial.

It definitely was not “ersatz celebrities… hawk[ing] their products and merchandise shamelessly,” as one commenter described modern-day talk shows on Cavett‘s blog.

Nor was it "droning on pointlessly about their latest promotion," as another chimed in.

They were discussing their passion. They were talking about the biggest thing in their lives at the moment and discussing how the play has impacted them from their childhoods to today. They spoke of Beckett. They spoke of the play's history. They spoke of their own trials and triumphs trying to come to terms with the play. Simple promotions don't do that. If you find one that does, please, show it to me so I can bask in its glory.

That interview was conversation: it was interesting people talking about the things they wished to talk about.

And it’s not a rarity, either. Craig Ferguson recently had a wonderful conversation with Wolfgang Puck about “the gayest of herbs,” Austria’s dominance of Germany (which I don’t believe has ever happened), and small… well… penises (even David Letterman’s… ewww…)

Craig alluded to Tom Snyder. Puck made a jab about “the governor’s fingers.”

It was, quite simply, witty conversation.

Then look at Stephen Colbert. He’s always having a satirical conversation of some sort or other.

How could we forget Bill Maher, who lambastes religion perhaps even more than Jonathan Miller? He regularly interview authors, directors, etc. (His shows are available on itunes, for those who want them.)

Do none of these conversations count as good conversations? Do none of these conversationalists count as good conversationalists? If so, then I don’t know the meaning of conversation.

Perhaps the talk show hosts of today are louder and more irreverent than the men who came before them. Perhaps they strive too hard for the laugh, and in doing so, forget good, insightful analysis of the way things are today (*cough* David Letterman talking about Senator Palin‘s daughter *cough*.)

The talk shows of yesterday weren’t perfect either, though. Tom Snyder had that horrible interview with Howard Stern, where the two mercilessly attacked each other.

The past always looks brighter than the present, and that is usually self-evident. Perhaps attacking nostalgia is an overly-simplistic thing to do. Perhaps its okay to sometimes reminisce about days of yore and get carried away.

But I truly feel we are in the golden age of the talk show. There are so many sharp hosts out there today. If there’s something wrong with modern-day talk shows, I’m inclined to say it’s that they are too good.

It’s a strange thing to say, but a couple of these guys in The White House or on Wall Street, and I would feel much better about America today.

The Secret To Creativity is Knowing How to Hide Your Sources (To Steal a Quote About Stealing Quotes from a Guy Who Stole it From Another Guy)

“Where do we begin? […] We begin by beginning, I guess.”
Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451

Unfortunately, beginning is more difficult than Bradbury‘s quote conveys. Pondering the various options I had to start this blog, I considered several options: opening with a bit about myself and the blog; letting my first post be like I plan all my other ones to be; or even starting with a simple, “Hi. This is the first post of my new blog, ‘Incoherent Ramblings of a Madman.’”

However, I think I’ve finally come up with a good introduction for this blog. I’ve decided how to make my first post pack a real punch.

The words you’re about to read have been carefully planned. Each one has had much though put into it. I hope it will show my virtuosity and intense devotion to writing.

“How will you do that?” you might ask. Well, quite simply, really. This post will rip-off beginnings that people much better than I made (I never said the thought going into the words was mine.) Then I’ll probably indulge in some self-depreciation, boring everybody with a lack of wit. But enough of that, and onto the words of masters. Why reinvent the wheel? Why not let better authors do all my work for me?

So, here you go:

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. [Crap, there’s no way I can top that!]” - the Bible

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
-J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye

“After the end of the World War of 1914 there was a deep conviction and almost universal hope that peace would reign in the world.”
-Winston Churchill’s Gathering Storm

“‘The Bwiti [I.e. African tribe that believes iboga, a plant, has mystical properties] believe that before the ceremony, the neophyte is nothing,’ Daniel Lieberman told me on my first morning in Gabon, as we took a cab from the Libreville airport.
‘It is only through the initiation that you become something.’
‘What do you become?’ I asked.
‘You become a baanzi. One who knows the other world, because you have seen it with your own eyes.’
‘What do the Bwiti think of iboga?’ I asked. Lieberman barely hesitated.
‘For them, iboga is a super-conscious entity that guides mankind,’ he said.
‘Okay.’”
-Daniel Pinchbeck’s Breaking Open the Head

“Ten miles outside the city screaming begins in earnest. Quiet at first, like a commotion heard in another room, it grows steadily louder with each step. Screaming. The monkeys screaming. Rattling the bars, hammering the wire mesh, playing their cages like tuneless instruments. And the smell, God! the stink of the city. Huge and sick. Coughing up its guts, voiding its bowels into the rivers, into the seas. The smell of people squeezed together like grapes in a press. The sour bouquet of sweat of all the tiny lives that go unnoticed in the belly of the monster. He had forgotten just how bad it could be. Gritting his teeth against the pain that pounds the walls of his skull, the Beast wipes blood from his nose. If only the noise would stop… the terrible noise… an orchestra of cages… a heedful of screaming monkeys… Why did we ever come down? Why did we come down out of the trees?”
-Grant Morrison’s Animal Man Issue 1

It’s a funny thing about beginnings. Some of them really set the mood, some of them foreshadow everything to come, and some grab you by the throat and refuse to let go. This post probably hasn’t done any of those things.

Then again, perhaps comparing my blog to the Bible was unfair. No one‘s turning into a pillar of salt on my watch.

Oh, and I hopefully won’t turn into a hermit after writing from the viewpoint of an emo, so Catcher in the Rye is out of the question.

There’s also a good chance my words won’t be remembered generations from now as a call against tyranny and a warning against a deranged madman. (I mean, Schwarzenegger isn’t that bad.)

Oh, and I’ve also never messed with intoxicants of any kind, despite people’s predisposition to think so upon meeting me. So I guess the likelihood of me discovering that God exists and it’s a plant is pretty slim.

Finally, though I do wish I could go on insane meta-fictional romps through the DC universe, that’s probably got only a 40% chance of happening.

So you’re stuck with me: an average, not-so-interesting teenager.

Guess it’s better than writing about emos…