Saturday, January 12, 2013

An Atheist’s Creed

File:RothkoFourDarksRed.jpgLike smoke from a hot fire,
we briefly soil the air,
then vanish and disperse to nothingness--

The souls ruling our bodies,
like rainclouds drifting in sky,
suddenly scatter in cold north wind,
gone traceless in vastness--

Nothing exists after death,
and death is not a state--
only the end of the final lap
of fleeting life--

Greedy men, stop hoping for reward--
Anxious men, stop fearing punishment--
Time’s rapacious jaws devour us whole--
Death cannot be divided:
it destroys the body,
does not spare the soul--

There is no Hell, no savage god who rules the dead,
no guardian dog to hinder your escape--
These are just idle folktales, empty words,
myth, woven into nightmare--

Where will I lie when I am dead?” you ask--

You will lie among things never born.

(Seneca, The Trojan Women, Act II, Lines 393-407, Trans. Frederick Ahl)

Friday, February 10, 2012

The Year of the Bible!

A friend of mine and I declared 2007 to be “The Year of the Bad Joke.” For the first few months of that year, we stopped censoring ourselves. Whatever terrible, corny pun popped into our heads, we said it. The secret, we discovered, to making a bad joke funny consisted almost entirely of getting a high-five after you told it.

Speaking of bad jokes, I was recently surprised to learn how Pennsylvania’s State Representatives quietly and unanimously adopted HR 535 declaring 2012 “The Year of the Bible” here in the Quaker state. Since then an online petition is being circulated that may result in the assembly’s reconsideration of the resolution.

Now I’m not really the type to get riled up about things, and for many reasons (chief among them being how empty and frivolous a culture war gesture like this resolution is compared to some of the really harmful things this batch of legislators has conspired on) I’m not going to get riled up about this.

Still, it wouldn’t be so bad if what they meant was “The Year of the Bible [as Literature].” Sort of like a college class I saw offered once that considered the historicity of the text, the way its form and meaning has changed over time, etc., using some combination of close reading, translation study, sociology, and book history.

It would be a positive sign of things to come. Like maybe next year would be The Year of Franz Kafka’s The Trial, or The Year of Djuna Barnes’ Nightwood, or The Year of The Geneology of Morals, or The Year of Frank Herbert’s Dune.

Like maybe Harrisburg is outlining a broad liberal arts curriculum that promises to enrich and enlarge the solitary existences of all Pennsylvanians. Like maybe Harrisburg’s point isn’t to alienate Pennsylvania’s non-Christians nor to bolster the unhistorical conceit that the United States of America is the true Christian nation whose laws are God’s laws rather than the accreted trials, failures, prejudices, hopes and whims of generations of human beans working in both good and bad faith.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Driving Without Ego

It’s no secret how much ego American’s invest in their cars. In more than just a marketing, self-commodifying, status-seeking sense, our cars (or bicycles, or even our bus routes) are an extension of ourselves. How could our motility in whatever form not have an effect on how we view ourselves interacting with the social world?

My experience of driving is still limited. I’ve had a license for only about 14 years, and for a not insignificant amount of that time I lived an urban, no-drive lifestyle. But I’ve also driven the long way around the USA, from Philadelphia to Vancouver to San Diego to Houston and back, a trip of several thousand miles. I’ve taken numerous other long distance trips. So far I’ve gotten 1 speeding ticket and caused 1 collision (property damage only, no injuries, I’m fortunate). And lately I’ve been delivering Chinese food part time, which has proven to be a somewhat novel experience. I also love to drive.

For a while now, I’ve also been interested in the ways that we live our ethics. Philosophy sometimes has this appearance of being a leisure-time pursuit, a thing somehow outside of the various practices of everyday life…outside of sleeping, eating, working, watching tv, etc. But just a little reflection can usually belie that appearance. When we eat meat or abstain, when we do our duty or follow our heart, when we stare at the boob-tube or attend the cinema, we are living the ideas we have about our place and conduct in the world. Even when we’re just reading philosophy, we’re living philosophy.

And driving style is like this also.

Sometimes it can seem really cut-throat out there on the road amidst the traffic. And we might make of that a kind of metaphor for the world. That the world is cut-throat, a “rat race,” each of us paddling our separate canoes, trying to make our way in spite of everyone else. What I’m saying, I guess, is that while driving can be a metaphor for the larger world it also is the larger world.

And I’ve been thinking lately about how my own driving style could both reflect and embody a more ethical practice of life. It boils down to 3 general behaviors: be aware, be generous, and drive without emotion.

BE AWARE

  • I think it’s generally true that if you think you’re a good driver, then you’re not. A good driver is one who always strives to be good, not one who rests satisfied in the knowledge that they are good. A proud driver is a complacent driver.
  • Unchain yourself from that pride in your skill by being aware of the limits of your control. Can your skill prevent another driver from having a heart attack and swerving across your lane? Can your skill ensure that the transmission of the car ahead of you does not suddenly slip or freeze? A person can’t even claim to control their own body except in limited ways, so much of it runs automatically without our conscious input. Remember that and be humble.
  • But what you can control makes you responsible for the safety all of the drivers, bicyclists, pedestrians and property within your range of action. Behind the wheel, you vastly expand your potential for harm and destruction. Any time you’re driving, a split-second of inattention could make you a paralyzer or a murderer. You must protect others from yourself.
  • While you can’t prevent other drivers from acting like fools, you’d be a fool yourself not to make allowances for them. Speaking of which…

BE GENEROUS

  • The road does not belong to you alone, so don’t think you have the right to feel abused when someone cuts you off. The difference between them taking the road and you giving the road is only a question of attitude. Be generous and give the road freely.
  • Let other drivers be your guests, not your enemies, even when they are rude.
  • Give the driver in front of you room to brake as you would wish your guests to be comfortable.
  • Give other drivers room to merge as you would open your front door to a friend.
  • Give other drivers the ability to predict your behavior with efficient and effective use of turn signals. Drive with deliberate and clear intent, so as not to put other drivers on edge.

DRIVE WITHOUT EMOTION

  • Emotion won’t get you where you need to go, and it won’t make traffic move any faster, but it can slow you down by making you sloppy.
  • When you’re running late, stress can build, but there is no malice in the advance of time, just as there would be no ill-will in the crush of steel. These things are not your enemies. You cannot defeat them by hating them. Anger will not slow the passage of time or allow you to pass through solid objects, so keep your cool and your wits about you.

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Way: watch it alone so no one will see you cry. [Movie Review]

Charlie Sheen has been kicking up a lot of dust lately.  He’s done some really excellent work in the past and I enjoyed him on Two and a Half Men, but the ratio of attention-paid to his public breakdown over the attention-that-should-be-paid seems way out of whack, so beyond that I’ll leave the personal judgments to addiction specialists and tabloid parasites.

It would be nice if Sheen could divert at least a small fraction of that attention towards The Way (2010), an extremely small-budget film project written and directed by Emilio Estevez and starring their father Martin.

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-17h43m31s42The Way is about an ophthalmologist (Martin Sheen) with an only son (played in flashbacks and hallucinations by Emilio Estevez himself) who, after quitting a doctoral program at Berkeley to travel and find himself, dies suddenly while hiking in the Pyrenees.

The father, Tom, learns that his son was just beginning El Camino de Santiago, a walking pilgrimage through northern Spain to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, where Catholics maintain the relics of the apostle St. James are interred. 

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-17h51m41s70Expecting only to retrieve Daniel’s corpse and return home, Tom decides on impulse to complete the pilgrimage instead.  A lapsed Catholic about whom his friends joke on the golf course that he lacks a soul, Tom is broken by the news of his son’s death.  Daniel’s cremated remains symbolize the weight of his guilt and failure as a father. 

As he walks the nearly 800km westward journey, Tom periodically lightens his load, both figuratively and literally, sprinkling ashes by the small handful at notable sites.

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-17h55m40s205Not only those ashes keep him company.  Three other pilgrims join him one after another, each broken in their separate ways, strangely mirroring Dorothy’s companions from The Wizard of Oz.  First he meets the Dutchman, who cuts a comic figure, though of all the characters, the precise history of his sadness remains to us obscure (ostensibly he walks the Camino to lose weight, though we also learn that he is married and that he may love her more than she loves him).  The next to join is a morose Canadian, whose heart has been hardened by an abusive ex-husband and an abortion.  The last is the cowardly Irishman, a travel book writer haunted by the real book he could never write, hiding from his publishers on the Camino.

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-17h56m10s237 The Way is a small film in many ways, filmed with a skeleton crew of less than 50 according to IMDB.  Like Herzog’s Aguirre, the Wrath of God, the filming of the pilgrimage required that the crew become pilgrims themselves, but The Way is no Aguirre.  Though people have died as the character Daniel died in the mountains, the film captures little in the way of peril.  Estevez’s camera captures odd moments, strangeness perhaps, but never the sublime.  Quiet pain and reconciliation dominate the mood.

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-17h56m57s220

The most similar comparison to my mind is that weird little movie David Lynch produced with Disney Studios, The Straight Story, about an old man who rides a lawnmower through the American Midwest to see his brother once more before he dies.  Both films will have you in tears if you’re not made of stone.

vlcsnap-2011-04-11-18h03m08s54

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Quote of the Day: Affiliation

Look: I got nothing against God. I mean, I go to church on Sunday.  But any time a group of individuals likes the same thing, I don't like that.  It could be romantic comedies. It could be Oreo cookies. If they're all liking it together, I want that broken up.

—“Boston” Rob Mariano, Survivor: Redemption Island, Ep. 8, “This Game Respects Big Moves," 4/6/11

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Monster Promise Keepers of Syfy’s Being Human

syfy-being-human-josh-deer The executive producer of Syfy’s Being Human, the US remake of a UK series now in its third season, explained to TV Guide that he wanted to maintain the dark and morally ambiguous tone of the original, but there’s nothing ambiguous about the morality of the show.  What Jeremy Carver probably means is that his characters wrestle with temptations and occasionally falter, but there’s never much deliberation about what's the right thing to do or about who the bad guys are.  The moral universe of Being Human is clear: “Nature” is evil and “being human” means resisting it.

Being Human is only the latest to tap into the expanding popularity of vampires and the like.  As evidence by Twilight, True Blood, and Vampire Diaries, monsters are currently in season.  Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, in his introduction to Monster Theory (1996), the anthology that gave birth to that particular niche of cultural studies, argues that one could learn a lot about a culture by looking at the monsters it envisions.  Monsters embody a culture’s hidden fears and secret desires, it’s prohibitions and exclusions.  Monsters enforce traditions, scare children straight, and articulate differences between the self and the other.  So what does Being Human say about us?

The series begins when coworkers at a Boston hospital who happen to be a vampire and a werewolf decide to become roommates.  Aiden the vampire has been trying to stay on the straight and narrow path—not feeding on living human beings—but he falls off the wagon in the first episode and kills a nurse in the heat of passion.  Josh, meanwhile, has reacted to his werewolf transformation by living in a self-imposed, punishing social exile from the friends and family of his former life, but even so he’s terrified once a month of what he might do and whom he might hurt.  Taking a cue from the promise-keepers manual, Aiden the chaste and Josh the hermit decide a brother might help them keep their promises.

being-human-syfy-tv-show The monster mash is complete when the pair discover a ghost, Sally, haunting their quaint brownstone.  Sally was engaged to the landlord, Danny, who makes a friendly first impression but pushed Sally down the stairs in a fit of jealous rage and feels little remorse for killing her.  The moral choice shaping up for Sally is whether she should turn the other cheek and move on or become a vengeful poltergeist and make him sorry.

So each monster is tempted by some “natural” urge one’s humanity should resist: 

Vampire nature is predatory and power hungry.  Aiden must contend not only with his blood-thirst but also with his vampire friends, who have installed themselves in positions of authority (priests, police) and continually pressure him to do the same.  Werewolf nature is hyper-masculine and aggressive.  One of Josh’s plots included meeting his “maker,” who exhorts him to embrace “the Wolf,” which primarily involves hitting on women and starting fights with vampires.  Ghost nature is defined by the past.  They exist because they can’t let something go. 

These characterizations add up to how the show constructs the culturally-specific “nature” out of which humanity emerges as its negation. 

Friday, March 11, 2011

5 Reasons Why You Should Be Watching Fringe (If You Aren’t Already)

To help you discern whether you should really invest time in a television series, it’s good to ask if you would recommend it to someone.  Ask yourself: are you watching this show merely out of habit, because you watched it last week and the week before, because some past version of you once took a chance on it and you’ve just been taking it for granted ever since that he made the right choice?  Or would you still, after declaring all obligations to past decisions null and void, bravely commit yourself anew?

Tonight’s episode of Fringe is titled “Os.”  I will be watching it, and you should too. Here’s TV Guide’s description:

The team investigates a gang of thieves who can defy gravity; Walter assesses the harm he’s caused to the fabric of the universe. (Drama), (V=Intense Violence, L=Strong Coarse Language).

“Wow!  Say no more!  I’m already way interested!” is what you’re probably thinking.  But as if that brief summary weren’t already enough to convince you, I’m going to identify 5 more reason why you should be watching Fringe

SERIES SYNOPSIS

fringe.span But first a selective overview: “The team” is the FBI’s Fringe Science division, composed primarily of Agent Olivia Dunham, her assistant Astrid, and consultants Walter and Peter Bishop, father and son (sort of).  The Fringe division investigates strange phenomena, often employing strange techniques and equipment themselves in the process.

Similarities and Differences to X-files

The similarities to X-files are already apparent, but that’s roughly as far as they go.  The skepticism and faith set in romantic tension that defined Scully and Mulder’s relationship is wholly absent from Fringe.  From the first episode, Olivia demonstrates her openness to the unusual when, with the urgency of Jack Bauer, she accepts Walter’s administration of hallucinogenic drugs and enters a sensory deprivation tank in order to directly access the mind of a man in a coma.  Instead of skepticism and faith, the duality that Olivia and Peter set in romantic tension is, at least in the beginning, that of action and inaction.  (Although one further similarity to X-files, is that, like Mulder and Scully, Peter and Olivia are both pathological about the ways they represent their respective approaches, because they’re symptomatic of repressed childhood traumas.)

Also missing is the general atmosphere of horror and dread characteristic of X-files.  Much more of Fringe is filmed in the light of day.  It’s monsters appear mostly as men.

One last difference worth mentioning is that although both X-files and Fringe employ a two-part plot structure in which almost every episode advances not only the stand-alone plot (whatever strange occurrence they happen to investigate that week) but also the continuation plot (the series arc), Fringe’s series arc tends to dominate much of the time.  The reverse was true of X-files; individual episodes of X-files work much better as stand-alones, but Fringe episodes discourage missing episodes or out-of-order viewing.

Two Universes

So here are the major spoilers: the continuation plot begins, in a way, back in the early 80s, when Walter Bishop invents a window (and later a door) to a parallel universe that is different in mostly subtle ways; for example, Walter’s doppelganger (whom Walter names “Walternate”), instead of challenging reality’s boundaries, focused his equally brilliant energies on reinforcing and protecting order and stability, entering politics. 

Both Walters’ sons contract the same rare, genetic illness, and both fathers work towards a cure, but “our” Walter’s son dies before it can be stabilized.  Watching through his dimensional window, Walter observes his double overlook a lab result that would lead him to the cure and can’t bear to watch the other Peter die while he has the power to save him, so he resolves to cross between universes, administer the cure, and return.  But events don’t transpire according to plan, and Walter ends up abducting the other Peter, ostensibly to cure him over here.

fringe_tv_show_image_joshua_jackson__3_ Several consequences are the result of this kidnapping, Walter’s original sin.  Notably, 1) the physics of the other universe are destabilized by the penetration.  For example, a giant, bottomless vortex appears in the East River, symbolic of the emotional void opened up in Walternate by his son’s abduction.  2) Our Walter, having determined the doorway technology to be too unstable to use again, endeavors to find another way to return the Peter who is not his son.  His new method involves conducting radically experimental drug trials on young children in the hopes of turning them into a kind of passageway or key between the worlds, and as it turns out, his most promising subject is the young Olive Dunham.

Note, however, that these early childhood memories (of Peter being from another universe and of Olivia being subjected to abusive chemical and psychological experiments) are deeply repressed at the beginning of the series, so that the overall plot trajectory could, in some sense, be thought of as the gradual psychoanalytical process whereby these memories are unearthed and explored.

 FINALLY, THE 5 REASONS

1. It’s dark.

For all the sci-fi whimsy of the parallel universes, drug trips, mind-reading, etc, this series is no Warehouse 13.  Psychological trauma is at the scarred heart of it.  Walter is a Victor Frankenstein; his science is fundamentally transgressive.  But his materials aren’t (limited to) corpses.  They also include the fragile minds of children.  And the series cruelly manipulates its viewer into sympathizing with him, ironically, as we would sympathize with any protective, distraught father.

2. Olivia Dunham is awesome.

She’s no Super Wizard, of course; she has very human limitations, but she’s relentless and (usually) fearless on the case, which makes her great to cheer on.  Her past has also made her intense and complicated, and she drinks bourbon, unlike her more well-adjusted doppelganger.

3. Intelligent characters. 

Fringe is a JJ Abrams production, just like Lost, but it seemed to me that there were so many times during Lost that “drama” was the result of unnecessary, irrational miscommunications.  Like so much interpersonal “tension” could be avoided if the characters collected their thoughts and explained themselves in the least hyperbolic, most honest ways.  Not so with Peter and Olivia.  Both characters, if anything, are hyperrational.  They clearly have emotions, but they explain their emotions, and the suffering that sometimes results from one revelation or another is never of the “unforced error” kind, but rather of the “so this is the truth, in the most honest way I’m capable of saying it” kind.

4. Cool cameos.

Leonard Nimoy as Walter’s partner-in-crime, Dr. William Bell.  Kevin Corrigan (Grounded for Life, Kicked in the Head, Buffalo 66, one HILARIOUS episode of “Community”) as a mysterious guide-figure/bowling alley attendant who is much older (like centuries?) than he looks, and now Joan Chen (Josie Packer from Twin Peaks) as Walternate’s advisor/woman on the side.  TWIN PEAKS BONUS: In one episode, Walter is seen wearing green and orange glasses; he explains that an old friend of his from Washington state, Dr. Jacoby, invented them!

5. Thoughtful exploration of the theme of estrangement.

I’ve written about estrangement on this blog before in a couple different ways, but what I mean is the experience of alienation—perhaps what Becket calls “defamiliarization”—the traversal of otherness and the rupturing of the usual or the comfortable.  Fringe explores this experience in any number of ways, through an alternate universe that is similar to ours but different, through one character who makes his home in a universe in which he is a stranger, through another character who returns after a period of crisis to discover a stranger had lived her life in her absence, a stranger who looked like her, who wore her clothes, who even loved her beloved, and yet wasn’t her, who is therefore led to ask: if she isn’t those things, then what exactly is she?