I've been waiting for Samhain. It's my favorite pagan holiday, tho I rarely admit that I love this one more than Beltane. Interestingly, my two favorite holidays are the opposites of each other. The joy of this holiday is the breaking point. There are points in timelines that are where you just need to move on. Lammas is that great time when you appreciate what you've accomplished, and you forgive yourself for not being as far along by the time of summer as you expected. Samhain is like the bad ass version of that theory. November 10th isMartini in the Latvian pagan calendar. It's the time to put finish putting up for winter. Done with preserving food, chopping the wood, fall butchering, and time to prepare to hunker down, to see how you did.
Samhain is the time to step away from the things you carry with you, and move into the time when all of your preparations for the year come to fruition. I really like the idea of this as the beginning of the new year. All the time before that is gone, immaterial in the face of survival. All of your energy now is devoted to the new winter coming up. The winter struggle is not the end of the year where at the end of it is spring. Instead, it is the beginning of the year, where you start with what you've got, and at the end of the struggle is the chance to learn from your inadequate prepartion and do better at the end of the year. Start with the struggle, and take those lessons into the easy seasons.
It's good to remember that at the beginning, everything is hard. It's also good to remember to let go the things that are dragging you down before the going gets rough. What baggage am I carrying? I've been waiting for this holiday with both anticipation and dread. Like Lent, this is an important time to cull the unnecessary drama, material goods, unhealthy habits, and not only get out of those ruts, but plant the seeds for a healthier future. Winter is a good time for meditation. Samhain is a great time to identify what it's time to say goodbye to. Why is it so hard to say goodbye to the things that seem to be the most damaging? My list extensive, as I sit and contemplate.
Yet, it's shorter than last year, and certainly less drama filled. Perhaps the lessons of Samhain and the lean months leading up to the ritualistic sacrifice of Lent are taking hold. It's only been in recent years that I have put that effort back into the lessons the holidays bring. Lent was a holiday I celebrated in my childhood, but had only begun to see the serious helpful benefits of the tradition in the last few years. In fact, holidays have begun to fascinate me with their opportunities for ritualistic ways to address different universal aspects of living the human condition. The major (especially pagan) holidays reflect the thoughts people have in an almost universal way based on how nature is acting around them. Samhain reflects the death of the life, the beginning of the ice time. We naturally think about other things that are ending. With endings, thoughts turn naturally to beginnings. After all, what is an end except an opportunity for some other beginning? Beltane, the blossoming of the pregnancy of Winter, the time where all energy reserves are concentrated on cultivating the hidden life of the world. An explosion comes at the end of that slow time, showing us the miracle and joy of new life.
Isn't it wonderful how we can appreciate new life so much more intensely after being denied it's expression for a few months. Without winter's pregnant time, new life comes as no wonder and no surprised delight. We know that from the decadent late summer indulgences of plenty. In the summer, it seems things will grow forever. We never appreciate what is always there, can always be counted on... only denial can remind us to appreciate what fortune there is in happiness.
Happy Samhain, and enjoy the upcoming scarcity as it tempers your summer fat into the satisfaction of survival once again.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Happy Birthday, Boy
Today, Thing 2 is 5 years old. He has proudly told everyone he comes across matter of factly: I am 5 now. Five is a magic number in his head, and it has been for several years. Odd desires are somehow phrased with "well, when I'm 5 I can do that."
How does he know that 5 is a special year? Does he feel a change coming on? At 5, he is transitioning between little kid/toddler to big kid. He's just a kid now, no longer in the gray area between baby and kid. At 5, Thing 1 started being able to cross streets without holding hands. He became more trusted to play outside by himself without getting into the road or breaking any major rules of conduct. At 5, formal schooling begins. We know a child is ready to start pulling away from the hearth and begin actively interacting with the world around him on his own terms.
Thing 1 has always been decisive, (I don't know where he gets that) but now his decisions are with more of a long eye. His rationality is engaged more fully. I can talk to him about future consequences and feel more certain that he can retain enough knowledge of consequences to become more responsible for his actions.
He will no longer be automatically pardoned for his bad behavior, he has to explain his actions. I guess with the gift of not holding hands crossing the street comes the burden of personal responsibility. Welcome to the world of higher conciousness, Thing 2, may the gifts relieve the burdens.
How does he know that 5 is a special year? Does he feel a change coming on? At 5, he is transitioning between little kid/toddler to big kid. He's just a kid now, no longer in the gray area between baby and kid. At 5, Thing 1 started being able to cross streets without holding hands. He became more trusted to play outside by himself without getting into the road or breaking any major rules of conduct. At 5, formal schooling begins. We know a child is ready to start pulling away from the hearth and begin actively interacting with the world around him on his own terms.
Thing 1 has always been decisive, (I don't know where he gets that) but now his decisions are with more of a long eye. His rationality is engaged more fully. I can talk to him about future consequences and feel more certain that he can retain enough knowledge of consequences to become more responsible for his actions.
He will no longer be automatically pardoned for his bad behavior, he has to explain his actions. I guess with the gift of not holding hands crossing the street comes the burden of personal responsibility. Welcome to the world of higher conciousness, Thing 2, may the gifts relieve the burdens.
Monday, October 24, 2005
I are a Homeschooler
Well, I am now officially a member of LEARN. I feel like now I'm going to have my mettle tested as to how cooperative I can be with other homeschooling parents, and how disciplined I can be about keeping up with the joneses, so to speak. Within a day of joining, I got a private e-mail from a woman who runs a reading group. Soon after, a field trip was being organized. It was on at a run! Are we ready for this?
Thing 1 has been resistant about leaving the house. He needed a huge decompression after kindergarten and summer programs. It's only been recently that he's even been willing to leave the house for a trip to the grocery store, much less think about field trips and reading groups. On the other hand, he's been talking about his old school and seems to be starting to miss organized kid time. It's time for the social program to shift into gear. The last thing I want is one of those weirdly socialized homeschool kids who have ugly glasses, polyester pants and an intense compulsion towards competitiveness in spelling bees.
On the other side, this time off has done him a world of good. I remember that scene inParenthood in with Steve Martin where he talks about his kids "tense face", and I knew EXACTLY what face he was talking about. I haven't seen that tense face on Thing 1 in a while now, and it relaxes something tense inside of *me* that was really worried.
I don't know what I was worried about. I don't have a complete name to my restless feeling of impending doom or panic, but that feeling was there. In some ways, it's the tension of living and alternative life, parenting in a different way from the way I was parented and the way their dad was parented. We live in a period of experimental parenting, and it becomes a source of serious parental tension when you pick something and all you can do is wait and see if you made a good choice. When thing start to go wonky, it's the parental guilt I feel first. "oh no, did I cause this? Did I cross a line somewhere just like my family said I would?"
The pressure to have a normal child in the face of a society that hasn't even got normal defined very effectively can wreck havoc on the the already sensitive parental guilt buttons. Do I even want my kid to be "normal" when the kids around me are getting increasingly weird, unhealthy and neurotic as an average? Does average = normal?? As a group, we parents not only can't agree on what the best methods of child raising are, but we can't even agree on what the hoped for end goals are.
I don't want my kid to be normal, I want to raise him in a way freer of the hang-ups, short sightedness, and casual neurosis of the world we live in. I want him to be different, but I don't want him to be targeted. Skating that line is a constant challenge. I see the consequences for difference in my teen agers, and it both worries and makes me proud. Those guys are coming into their freak factor flying their freak flag high in their own ways.
Maybe I can let down the guard a little, take off my internal "tense face" and relax into the faith that living the example of an ethical life of honesty, compassion, fidelity and love is going to be the path that the young people in my life want to follow because it resonates with something deep inside them that just wants to be happy without someone else having to suffer to make that happen.
Thing 1 has been resistant about leaving the house. He needed a huge decompression after kindergarten and summer programs. It's only been recently that he's even been willing to leave the house for a trip to the grocery store, much less think about field trips and reading groups. On the other hand, he's been talking about his old school and seems to be starting to miss organized kid time. It's time for the social program to shift into gear. The last thing I want is one of those weirdly socialized homeschool kids who have ugly glasses, polyester pants and an intense compulsion towards competitiveness in spelling bees.
On the other side, this time off has done him a world of good. I remember that scene inParenthood in with Steve Martin where he talks about his kids "tense face", and I knew EXACTLY what face he was talking about. I haven't seen that tense face on Thing 1 in a while now, and it relaxes something tense inside of *me* that was really worried.
I don't know what I was worried about. I don't have a complete name to my restless feeling of impending doom or panic, but that feeling was there. In some ways, it's the tension of living and alternative life, parenting in a different way from the way I was parented and the way their dad was parented. We live in a period of experimental parenting, and it becomes a source of serious parental tension when you pick something and all you can do is wait and see if you made a good choice. When thing start to go wonky, it's the parental guilt I feel first. "oh no, did I cause this? Did I cross a line somewhere just like my family said I would?"
The pressure to have a normal child in the face of a society that hasn't even got normal defined very effectively can wreck havoc on the the already sensitive parental guilt buttons. Do I even want my kid to be "normal" when the kids around me are getting increasingly weird, unhealthy and neurotic as an average? Does average = normal?? As a group, we parents not only can't agree on what the best methods of child raising are, but we can't even agree on what the hoped for end goals are.
I don't want my kid to be normal, I want to raise him in a way freer of the hang-ups, short sightedness, and casual neurosis of the world we live in. I want him to be different, but I don't want him to be targeted. Skating that line is a constant challenge. I see the consequences for difference in my teen agers, and it both worries and makes me proud. Those guys are coming into their freak factor flying their freak flag high in their own ways.
Maybe I can let down the guard a little, take off my internal "tense face" and relax into the faith that living the example of an ethical life of honesty, compassion, fidelity and love is going to be the path that the young people in my life want to follow because it resonates with something deep inside them that just wants to be happy without someone else having to suffer to make that happen.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Marraige
My brother got married last weekend. Aside from the general goat rodeo nature of the thing, (being organized sort of last minute) it came together nicely. When the event finally happened, it was lovely. I don't mean the dress and the flowers (which I decorated for the alterpiece and the unity candle. and they looked FABULOUS)and the weird little paper runner and all that. But, the emotive content of the whole thing was lovely.
I have a weird relationship with marriage, and times like these brings that to the surface of my thoughts. I married once. I married rashly, without consideration of the emotional contract I was entering. I married without understanding within myself what marriage meant for me in ways I hadn't consented to. Meaning, I had/have deep seated beliefs about marriage that I don't recall having conciously adopted. I know a lot more about that now, and I view marriage with a wariness that borders on panic.
In some ways, I can't imagine anyone who knew what kinds of things can happen within a marriage contract would willingly choose to subject themselves to that. On the other, it's a beguiling leap of faith and trust between two people. In some ways, they come together stripped raw of their weaponry, tender and vulnerable, ready to take on a commitment not to hurt each other, to hold each other tenderly and commit to a kinder gentler way of approaching the world that, at a minimum, takes into account the well being of at least one other person, usually more since marriage usually = breeding.
That's big stuff. It's so easy to isolate from the world, to turtle up and keep yourself safe. The consequence for the safety that isolation brings is loss of connection to others, to community, to something other than the self. However, compared to how easy it is to get hurt when you extend yourself out of the shell, that consequence seems more than acceptable.
Our patio homes with no yard and huge homes to huddle in show that we are taking our isolation seriously. Why bother building community, when you can just stay inside, keep in touch with the world through cable and the internet, and keep yourself safe. But more and more, people are losing their grip. It's hard to know if you're sane or losing it when you have no context, no reflections of your behavior from other people, no connection to others.
Marriage means there will always be at least one other to consider. When you're considering one other, more others by extension become easier to consider, more of a natural process. The roots of community building as a manifestation of the skills learned through coupling?
In the end, that's the basis of my struggle. I got no beef with commitment. I think it's what makes the world go round. My problem is the marriage, and the context of the social contract I personally live in. (not that I've seen many other social contracts where the wedding contract is acceptable) My brother doesn't have these issues. He believes in what the contract states, and it invokes no particular interior rebellion on his part. His role as a husband and father, monogamy, basic christian values, all of that makes sense to him and is right and good. His faith in that contract makes it a Good Thing. He will rest easier at night knowing that he and his wife are on the same page based on the agreement they made at the alter. I sort of envy that peace of mind.
I have a weird relationship with marriage, and times like these brings that to the surface of my thoughts. I married once. I married rashly, without consideration of the emotional contract I was entering. I married without understanding within myself what marriage meant for me in ways I hadn't consented to. Meaning, I had/have deep seated beliefs about marriage that I don't recall having conciously adopted. I know a lot more about that now, and I view marriage with a wariness that borders on panic.
In some ways, I can't imagine anyone who knew what kinds of things can happen within a marriage contract would willingly choose to subject themselves to that. On the other, it's a beguiling leap of faith and trust between two people. In some ways, they come together stripped raw of their weaponry, tender and vulnerable, ready to take on a commitment not to hurt each other, to hold each other tenderly and commit to a kinder gentler way of approaching the world that, at a minimum, takes into account the well being of at least one other person, usually more since marriage usually = breeding.
That's big stuff. It's so easy to isolate from the world, to turtle up and keep yourself safe. The consequence for the safety that isolation brings is loss of connection to others, to community, to something other than the self. However, compared to how easy it is to get hurt when you extend yourself out of the shell, that consequence seems more than acceptable.
Our patio homes with no yard and huge homes to huddle in show that we are taking our isolation seriously. Why bother building community, when you can just stay inside, keep in touch with the world through cable and the internet, and keep yourself safe. But more and more, people are losing their grip. It's hard to know if you're sane or losing it when you have no context, no reflections of your behavior from other people, no connection to others.
Marriage means there will always be at least one other to consider. When you're considering one other, more others by extension become easier to consider, more of a natural process. The roots of community building as a manifestation of the skills learned through coupling?
In the end, that's the basis of my struggle. I got no beef with commitment. I think it's what makes the world go round. My problem is the marriage, and the context of the social contract I personally live in. (not that I've seen many other social contracts where the wedding contract is acceptable) My brother doesn't have these issues. He believes in what the contract states, and it invokes no particular interior rebellion on his part. His role as a husband and father, monogamy, basic christian values, all of that makes sense to him and is right and good. His faith in that contract makes it a Good Thing. He will rest easier at night knowing that he and his wife are on the same page based on the agreement they made at the alter. I sort of envy that peace of mind.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Dreamscape: Jealousy
I was standing there with a man, I'm not sure entirely what we were doing, or planning to do together. He came onto the scene, in a rage. He grabbed me (by the hair?) and threw me down on the ground, growling for me to stay in place. Somehow it was clear in my mind he meant on my hands and knees, head to the ground. My hair was long and blond, like when I was a kid/teen. That was handy, since it acted as a drape across my face to hide my smile. I was so pleased, and looking so forward to whatever he had in mind as punishment for whatever trangression he thought I'd committed. He went back over to the guy, and I'm not sure what he did, but the other person went away.
He stalked off, but then came back to check on me, it seemed to make sure I wasn't going anywhere while he dealt with the other person. He crouched down beside me and grabbed a fistful of hair. I crept upwards, nuzzled the inside of his thigh and kissed it softly, which I'm fairly certain he didn't feel through his jeans. However, he seemed satisfied that I wasn't rebellious. He grunted in sort of smug satisfaction and stood up to deal with whatever he needed to before it was my turn. I waited.
He stalked off, but then came back to check on me, it seemed to make sure I wasn't going anywhere while he dealt with the other person. He crouched down beside me and grabbed a fistful of hair. I crept upwards, nuzzled the inside of his thigh and kissed it softly, which I'm fairly certain he didn't feel through his jeans. However, he seemed satisfied that I wasn't rebellious. He grunted in sort of smug satisfaction and stood up to deal with whatever he needed to before it was my turn. I waited.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Emotional Pornography
It's the little things in life that become emotional pornography when you're single. Maybe not just when you're single, but when you're not getting it.
2 hours of dancing on top of a 5 hour car trip had me whimpering mentally by the time I was heading home tonight. Leaning over a marble bannister, unable to even make it to my car without trying to stretch out my back, I found myself having an intense fantasy moment where all I had to do was make it home, and there would be someone there waiting whose only main concern would be whether they'd rub my feet or my back first. The backrub would be especially welcome, since it would likely involve lotion and I've had this chronic itch on my right shoulder blade for the last few months that has me contorting like a cross between a mental patient and a dog with fleas to reach it on a daily basis. This itch has been with me for years, but was one of the many little things that my partner did for me that made a warm squishy place in my heart, even if he insisted upon teasing me about it. "will you scratch. . ." "your right shoulder blade" he would finish with what I always hoped was amusement and not resentment. He didn't have any hard to reach chronically itchy places, so I never got to return the favor.
I figured this would be the place on my hide that wouldn't allow me to go "Between". He thought it was from my tattoo, I think it was because he didn't care for me properly when he grew me, and that was a weak spot on my skin :)
These fantasies combined with memories happen a lot anymore. I find myself sighing at the idea of curling up on the couch by myself to watch tv, and dreading forcing myself to actually cook when I'm by myself. I miss being felt up while I'm doing the dishes, and putting my cold hands in his warm places when I come in from outside and don't have enough sense to put on gloves. Laughing and joking around with another adult who you're intimate with is something that isn't the same with close friends. A lot of things aren't the same with close friends, mostly because they have their own lives and share their own little moment of life with someone else.
My step-brother and his wife are visiting my family right now. I just came from there today. They've been married a long time. I sort of vaguely remember them getting married, but I was pretty young and not paying much attention to that kind of thing. Or maybe, they got married just before my mom and step-dad got together. In any case, they've always been together in my mind. They almost split up a few years ago. I don't know exactly what the problem was, but it sounded like it was the same basic problem most couples who've been together for a while (especially those who got together young) face. They just got bored.
Those little moments that are so important to me now, important enough that thinking about them brings on some kind of weird horniness, an emotional horniness seeking out consumation on the plane of intimacy instead of the playing field of the physical connection, are things that it's easy to forget are important. It's simple to see how green the grass is somewhere else for no other reason than the sheer novelty of the unknown being more interesting than what you already know in and out. They got bored. They felt the other one didn't hear them, didn't appreciate them, didn't even know who they were anymore.
They got past it, somehow. I'm not sure how they did that either. But now they're comfortable with each other. They like each other. Somewhere, they realized that maybe those little moments meant more than they seemed, maybe they weren't so little. They know each other really well, better than anyone else does. That counts for a lot, when you really think about it. In Shall we Dance? the Sarandan character says this about marriage, "We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness."
Not especially romantic, but it's that witness I miss the most. The participation in my life by someone else who gives a shit about it. I spent 12 hours making a roof over someone's head. I'm so fucking impressed by that. The only other human being in the world who can truly understand how impressive the amount of work I did was, isn't here anymore to care. The only person who has a complete picture of my history, of where I came from, what I fought through to get here, took his attention away and left a hole in the documentary. The *context* of my accomplishments has been removed.
I don't need a person in my life. I am content with myself most of the time. I can support myself, take care of my kids, keep myself entertained, get laid (theoretically), develop my self/art/skills/intellect, and happily sleep by myself taking up a surprising amount of the king sized bed. I find myself wondering, what exactly is a partner good for? I'm so competant in my own life, it's almost scary, what do I need in someone else?
I realized I don't *need* someone else, but I want company. I want a companion who is interested in me, who is interesting themselves, and who is simply *there*. Being present in my life, witnessing it and sharing it. While I do seem to get more *done* by myself, I miss killing time. I *want* to just hang out with someone whose company is so enjoyable, that we just talk to each other about whatever, and suddenly we're late for where we were supposed to go, or not going to get enough sleep for the next day, or didn't get the project done we swore we were going to do. People are interesting enough, but individuals are fascinating. I love and miss digging into a particular person, a unique person, and spending *years* understanding their layers and plumbing their depths. I like working on that kind of time scale. I miss forever, I long for the knowledge that there's plenty of time ahead. Emotional pornography is the decadent luxury of the forseeable future laid out in front of you, available for slow and deliberate exploration, deeper and harder, increasingly subtle and sensitive probes based on shared history and the unique language of intimacy that every close pairing develops.
2 hours of dancing on top of a 5 hour car trip had me whimpering mentally by the time I was heading home tonight. Leaning over a marble bannister, unable to even make it to my car without trying to stretch out my back, I found myself having an intense fantasy moment where all I had to do was make it home, and there would be someone there waiting whose only main concern would be whether they'd rub my feet or my back first. The backrub would be especially welcome, since it would likely involve lotion and I've had this chronic itch on my right shoulder blade for the last few months that has me contorting like a cross between a mental patient and a dog with fleas to reach it on a daily basis. This itch has been with me for years, but was one of the many little things that my partner did for me that made a warm squishy place in my heart, even if he insisted upon teasing me about it. "will you scratch. . ." "your right shoulder blade" he would finish with what I always hoped was amusement and not resentment. He didn't have any hard to reach chronically itchy places, so I never got to return the favor.
I figured this would be the place on my hide that wouldn't allow me to go "Between". He thought it was from my tattoo, I think it was because he didn't care for me properly when he grew me, and that was a weak spot on my skin :)
These fantasies combined with memories happen a lot anymore. I find myself sighing at the idea of curling up on the couch by myself to watch tv, and dreading forcing myself to actually cook when I'm by myself. I miss being felt up while I'm doing the dishes, and putting my cold hands in his warm places when I come in from outside and don't have enough sense to put on gloves. Laughing and joking around with another adult who you're intimate with is something that isn't the same with close friends. A lot of things aren't the same with close friends, mostly because they have their own lives and share their own little moment of life with someone else.
My step-brother and his wife are visiting my family right now. I just came from there today. They've been married a long time. I sort of vaguely remember them getting married, but I was pretty young and not paying much attention to that kind of thing. Or maybe, they got married just before my mom and step-dad got together. In any case, they've always been together in my mind. They almost split up a few years ago. I don't know exactly what the problem was, but it sounded like it was the same basic problem most couples who've been together for a while (especially those who got together young) face. They just got bored.
Those little moments that are so important to me now, important enough that thinking about them brings on some kind of weird horniness, an emotional horniness seeking out consumation on the plane of intimacy instead of the playing field of the physical connection, are things that it's easy to forget are important. It's simple to see how green the grass is somewhere else for no other reason than the sheer novelty of the unknown being more interesting than what you already know in and out. They got bored. They felt the other one didn't hear them, didn't appreciate them, didn't even know who they were anymore.
They got past it, somehow. I'm not sure how they did that either. But now they're comfortable with each other. They like each other. Somewhere, they realized that maybe those little moments meant more than they seemed, maybe they weren't so little. They know each other really well, better than anyone else does. That counts for a lot, when you really think about it. In Shall we Dance? the Sarandan character says this about marriage, "We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness."
Not especially romantic, but it's that witness I miss the most. The participation in my life by someone else who gives a shit about it. I spent 12 hours making a roof over someone's head. I'm so fucking impressed by that. The only other human being in the world who can truly understand how impressive the amount of work I did was, isn't here anymore to care. The only person who has a complete picture of my history, of where I came from, what I fought through to get here, took his attention away and left a hole in the documentary. The *context* of my accomplishments has been removed.
I don't need a person in my life. I am content with myself most of the time. I can support myself, take care of my kids, keep myself entertained, get laid (theoretically), develop my self/art/skills/intellect, and happily sleep by myself taking up a surprising amount of the king sized bed. I find myself wondering, what exactly is a partner good for? I'm so competant in my own life, it's almost scary, what do I need in someone else?
I realized I don't *need* someone else, but I want company. I want a companion who is interested in me, who is interesting themselves, and who is simply *there*. Being present in my life, witnessing it and sharing it. While I do seem to get more *done* by myself, I miss killing time. I *want* to just hang out with someone whose company is so enjoyable, that we just talk to each other about whatever, and suddenly we're late for where we were supposed to go, or not going to get enough sleep for the next day, or didn't get the project done we swore we were going to do. People are interesting enough, but individuals are fascinating. I love and miss digging into a particular person, a unique person, and spending *years* understanding their layers and plumbing their depths. I like working on that kind of time scale. I miss forever, I long for the knowledge that there's plenty of time ahead. Emotional pornography is the decadent luxury of the forseeable future laid out in front of you, available for slow and deliberate exploration, deeper and harder, increasingly subtle and sensitive probes based on shared history and the unique language of intimacy that every close pairing develops.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
W - The President
These stickers kick ass. I love them. They are beautiful and elegant, with just the right font, in a very cool square shape that is different from most any bumper sticker I've ever seen. There's something extremely classy about the font they used, the W is sleek and pronounced. It's white on a black background, easy to see and unmistakable. The shape of the sticker alone is distinctive, the W takes up most of the space, so you already know where you're going with the sticker before you even get to the punch line.
And let's talk about the punchline. It's simple, directly to the point. There's no convincing, there's no pleading, no humor, no negotiation. W... who is he? The President. He won, you lost, get used to it. It's a statement of victory. Of victory so complete that there is no apology, no mincing, no euphamism. Nothing can be done, and his supporters are free to be as public and unapologetic about their support as they want to be.
And the form of support they choose is classy. It's so fucking classy. It's timeless and elegant, it's not in any way cheap or faddish. I'm drawn to those stickers with the same lust I have for cars I can't afford, vacations to the south of France, and any table setting that involves more than 4 pieces of flatware. Those stickers make me feel beaten. They make me feel outclassed and vaguely embarrassed about my political leanings. I respect those stickers as an adversary more potent than anything I've seen in the political arena since my conciousness blossomed.
There has been a backlash, of course. But it's too late. The joke is funny, the effect is certainly a great try. I may even get one myself. However, it's defense, and they scored the win in this round. Maybe the F will salvage some shred of pride, provide some dent in the smug feeling of bovine contentment felt by people who have convinced themselves that they stood behind W all along and never had any question he was the right guy for the job. Maybe the pure vulgarity the F implies, put on such a classy sticker with such a sleek and refined font will rattle the cages of the people so very very pleased with themselves, but in the end, it's a token effort against a group of people so inured in their rightness that they couldn't be rattled if a bomb dropped directly on their house and they saw a big W - The President sticker on the tip of it.
And let's talk about the punchline. It's simple, directly to the point. There's no convincing, there's no pleading, no humor, no negotiation. W... who is he? The President. He won, you lost, get used to it. It's a statement of victory. Of victory so complete that there is no apology, no mincing, no euphamism. Nothing can be done, and his supporters are free to be as public and unapologetic about their support as they want to be.
And the form of support they choose is classy. It's so fucking classy. It's timeless and elegant, it's not in any way cheap or faddish. I'm drawn to those stickers with the same lust I have for cars I can't afford, vacations to the south of France, and any table setting that involves more than 4 pieces of flatware. Those stickers make me feel beaten. They make me feel outclassed and vaguely embarrassed about my political leanings. I respect those stickers as an adversary more potent than anything I've seen in the political arena since my conciousness blossomed.
There has been a backlash, of course. But it's too late. The joke is funny, the effect is certainly a great try. I may even get one myself. However, it's defense, and they scored the win in this round. Maybe the F will salvage some shred of pride, provide some dent in the smug feeling of bovine contentment felt by people who have convinced themselves that they stood behind W all along and never had any question he was the right guy for the job. Maybe the pure vulgarity the F implies, put on such a classy sticker with such a sleek and refined font will rattle the cages of the people so very very pleased with themselves, but in the end, it's a token effort against a group of people so inured in their rightness that they couldn't be rattled if a bomb dropped directly on their house and they saw a big W - The President sticker on the tip of it.
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