Pay Attention


Strangetastic Relaunch

FYI - I recently re-launched my other website, Strangetastic, as Tumblr blog devoted to ghost stories and other spooky tales. 

This is the third or fourth iteration of the site, and I’m hoping this version proves sustainable. If I had time, I’d write a long post about the previous failures, but I don’t so I’ll just summarize: it didn’t work, so I’m trying something new.

Anyway, you should check it out. It might not be the thing you’re expecting it to be.

UPDATE: link fixed. Sorry.

This Morning’s 5 Stages of Grief

  1. Why is the breakfast taco place so dark this morning? They can’t be closed.
  2. What do you mean you’ve stopped serving breakfast? I spend $25 a week on breakfast tacos.
  3. I bet I can make breakfast tacos at home.
  4. Eating these homemade breakfast tacos makes me feel like my dog died.
  5. I guess I’ll never have breakfast tacos again.

Tweeting Your Epitaph

On Friday, I joked that people should have to spend one day a year wearing their internet comments on a sandwich board. On Saturday, a man walked up to a United States Congresswoman and shot her through the head. He shot an wounded 17 other people, and killing six. Among the dead was a 9-year-old girl who’d wanted to meet the politician because she’d recently been elected to her student council.

We don’t know the killer’s motives yet, but most speculation centers around his political writings about big government and the gold standard. Because we live in an era where everyone has a public persona, we all have access to the killer’s list of favorite books: a mish-mash political, economic, and dystopian literature. Much of his personal history has led to the belief that he suffers from a mental disorder, possibly schizophrenia, and that this is the reason for his actions.

Many on the left side of the nation’s political divide (where I sit) have pointed fingers toward the more vitriolic comments on the right, singling out former Vice-Presidential candidate turned celebritician Sarah Palin and her use of gun metaphors (“Don’t retreat, reload” and a campaign image of Congressional districts, including the victims’, marked with apparent rifle scope crosshairs).

I don’t know why the killer acted. No one does, and based on history, I’d say it’s likely we’ll never know the whole truth. Personally, I doubt that the killer was motivated by something as straightforward as a media figure’s words. He seems to have gone deep into the rabbit hole before his rampage, and I suspect his reading ran deeper than Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck. On the other hand, I think it’s very possible that his choice of target, a woman who seems tangential at best to the killer’s seeming obsession with currency, was the result of something like Palin’s crosshairs graphic.

And while I don’t think Sarah Palin is responsible for creating a killer, it does appear that among her first responses to Saturday’s tragedy was to remove the image from her website, and to begin spinning the crosshairs as “surveyor’s symbols” once it was clear that she’d never be able to hide it from the internet.

Which brings me back to my joke about internet comments and sandwich boards.

I’m a First Amendment guy. It’s near sacred text to me, and I would never support legal remedies for violent or stupid rhetoric. One of the things that sets America apart from many other Western democracies* is our no-holds-barred approach to free speech, especially political speech. In America, if you can think it, then you can pretty much say it without fear of reprisal.

But just because you’re not legally responsible for the words you use, or their possible effects, doesn’t mean you aren’t morally responsible for them, and make no mistake, words have power. As a weapon or a tool, there is nothing more effective than words for motivating human beings. If you don’t believe me, then reflect on the fact that all of the major religions of the world are built on sacred texts, and that according to the Gospel of John, Christians worship a word “made flesh.” 

So, while I don’t want to ban anyone from saying anything ever, I do think the world would be a little better off if we all remembered the power of our words and realized that, for better or worse, the words we speak or write are very often the only things we’re known by. 

Do you really want to wonder in the aftermath of a tragedy whether your words were throwing fuel on the fire, or spend time deleting tweets rather than comforting the grieving? And before you hit the “post” button on that latest internet rant, bear in mind that you could be writing your epitaph.

——

*I’m thinking specifically of the UK’s bad libel laws and the French tendency to ban head scarves. Canada also has a history of banning books that were sold openly in the United States, and of course Australia is dead set on censoring the internet.

There’s only one rule.

“There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”

-Kurt Vonnegut 

Shootings

A 9-year-old girl died today because she went to meet her congressperson. I can deal with everything else that happened today because it’s all happened before. We expected it would happen.

But a little girl getting gunned down at a town hall meeting? That’s fucked up. 

I’m going to kiss my daughters goodnight and go to bed, thankful that I still can and heartbroken for parents who can’t. 

—-

Review: Toothless

A confession: I have a near allergy to the sword-and-sorcery branch of the fantasy genre. There’s no good reason for this, some of my favorite books are firmly ensconced in the tradition, but I never buy them and I have to be forced at sword point to read them, so I doubt I would have picked up J.P. Moore’s Toothless on my own. Not that Toothless is even properly part of the genre, but it has magic and knights which is enough to scare me off. Then a friend sent it to me as an All Hallow’s Read gift  (thanks Adam!), and the gesture was so touching that I felt I had to give it a chance. 

The story itself is actually a lot of fun, in a sad and gruesome sort of way. In the world of the book, the Crusades have given way to a different war - the battle with The Yew, a sort of sentient tree that commands an army of demons and the undead and is rapidly conquering the world.

With each battle, The Yew adds to his forces by reanimating dead soldiers into zombies. Some are shambling, mindless corpses, but others retain some of the intelligence and skills of their living selves, though they remember little or nothing of their former selves. The intelligent zombies, or “Sentients,” are valuable and can become trusted leaders in the army of the Yew.

The title character, Toothless, is a former member of the Knights Templar, a medieval order of church soldiers that figured big in the Crusades. By the time we meet him, Europe is all but lost, his wife and daughter are dead of a plague spread by the Yew, and he is engaged in a battle that he knows will end his life. Just a few pages into the book he is one of the undead, with only fleeting memories  of his former life and a consuming hunger for killing.

To tell what happens after that would spoil the book for you, but I’d like to talk a little about my own reading of the book. In my reading, the story of Toothless (the character, not the book itself) is the story of grief. The author gives the reader brief glimpses of the happy family that Toothless lost, and these scenes are heartbreaking, especially to a soft touch like me.

The disconnect that Toothless feels from his old life, his betrayals of former ideals, his desire to simply melt into mindless death are telling metaphors for the experience of losing a loved one. And even at the end of the story when the character comes to a sort of redemption, he is still not able to completely return to being the man he was. He receives relief, but he is not restored.

That brings me to my one gripe with the book. It’s not accurate to say the hero is left unrestored, though that’s my reading and I’m sticking to it. Perhaps in an attempt to provide emotional satisfaction, Moore allows Toothless to ascend to a new plane of existence (heaven?) where his wife and child are waiting for him. To me, this felt like a cheat, but that may just be because it ran counter to what I wanted the book to mean.

Toothless is available in trade paperback, or in a free audio version at podiobooks.com.


Two Years of “Pay Attention”

I started this blog two years ago tonight. It’s a measure of the kind of man I am that I not only started a blog on New Year’s Eve, but I continue to be available for anniversary posts.

At the time, I was still reeling from a year of massive change in my life. I was new to fatherhood, relatively new to marriage, and I’d just moved halfway across the country from the place where I’d assumed I would live the rest of my life.

In all of this, I was completely unsure of who I was and terrified of who others might think I was, so I decided to create a place where, at the very least, I could construct a persona. I wanted a place I could point to if anyone ever asked who I was. That’s how the Pay Attention blog was born. 

That’s only part of the story, though. The key to my redemption lies in the other part: I wrote the first blog post with my older daughter laying across my shoulder, 11 months old and sick with a respiratory infection that kept her awake coughing half the night.

That’s a parent’s job. 

Parenting isn’t the only way to become an adult, but it’s the way I finally grew up.

It wasn’t automatic. It came little by little with every bedtime story, bath time, and sleepless night. It happened when I learned to put my iPhone down and be present when we played together, and when I realized I needed to really listen when my wife talked (a skill I’m still perfecting). It happened in therapy as I dealt with the changes in my life, and it happened as I listened to friends cry because they had no children.

Most of this isn’t chronicled here, but I can see it when I look over the archives. The earliest posts are desperate to be something bigger than they are, amateurish imitations of blogs I was reading at the time. When I read the later posts, I see less of that and sense a growing confidence.

Pay Attention  isn’t a diary for me. I’ll write about the last two years some day, when time gives me the perspective to make a coherent story. For now, I’ll just say that I know who I am, and I’m proud of him.

And thanks for reading. See you next year.

Film Review: True Grit

The first thing you need to know about True Grit is that it really is a Coen Brothers film. It is every bit as arch and precious as Fargo, and like that film, True Grit is meant to be brutal and funny at the same time. In fact, most of the humor comes from the brutality. The message being that life in this Western-era of America was nasty, brutish, and short and isn’t that hilarious.

Watching the film, there were times when I was reminded of Melville and Shakespeare, both of whom can step back in the middle of a story and remind you that you’re reading or watching a play without breaking the spell their characters hold on you. There are moments of bravery and heroic action in the film, when you admire the characters for their “grit.”

These scenes seem to exist because they’re the essential ingredients of the Western genre, but they’re shot and played sincerely, creating a tension with the ironic sensibility of the movie as a whole. Of course, the Coen Brothers mastered this tension long ago, but where irony always seemed to win the day in Fargo, sincerity comes out on top in True Grit.

This may be partly because of the influence of the original book, which I’ve not read but is apparently very funny on its own. Both the film and the book are narrated by Mattie, now grown old and self-described as a spinster. Her own distance from the events as a narrator lends itself well to the Coen Brothers’ ironic distance while also insisting on the importance and meaning of the events she describes.

The performances of Jeff Bridges and Hailee Steinfeld also deserve credit for grounding the movie in their respective roles as a whisky swilling US Marshall and a smart, determined teenager. Bridges deserves particular credit for never hinting that his character, Rooster Cogburn (already made iconic by John Wayne), is unbelievable in any way. He doesn’t disappear into the role (he’s always Jeff Bridges to me), but for two hours I believed that Jeff Bridges was a pitiful drunk and also an honorable and brave US Marshall.

In contrast, Matt Damon in his role as a boastful and preening Texas ranger always seems to be playing a character meant to be laughed at. This isn’t a flaw in his performance, but a reflection of his character’s position in Mattie’s memory. It’s clear that she lionizes Rooster Cogburn, and maybe fell in love with him in an immature way, but thinks much less of the Texas Ranger.

The best compliment I can pay the movie is that it really made me want to read the book. 

——

One other note, the score for the film was just declared ineligible for an Academy Award because it uses a great deal of music adapted from hymns. That’s a shame because, particularly for someone who was raised with these songs, the score is beautiful. 

Someone has uploaded a sample of the soundtrack to Youtube, so you can check it out before it’s pulled down:

Blood Type Silliness

I’m churlish enough today to point out that Andrew Sullivan is prone to silliness, and this post from his blog is a perfect example:

David Zax interviews Israeli venture capitalist Jacob Burak, author of bestsellers “Do Chimpanzees Dream of Retirement” and “Noise.” Here Burak explains the demographic make-up of successful entrepreneurs:

“Blood type B is found in a much higher percentage (four times as often) in self-made millionaires than in the rest of the population. On the other hand, many of the business CEOs and the United States Presidents are first-born children. Dyslexics compose about 9% of the population while they are 30% of the entrepreneurs (the reason probably being that they have to rely on others and delegate early on in their lives because of their handicap).”

First, neither of these books is a bestseller. I can’t find “Noise” and the “Chimpanzee” book is self-published through “Amazon’s” CreateSpace arm and its “Best Seller Rank” on Amazon is 233,000. 

Beyond that, is there really a survey of that asked the blood types of “self made millionaires,” and if so can I see it? I can only assume that this notion is based in “Blood Type” personality tests that are popular in Japan and have no more scientific basis than astrology. The dyslexia claim is on slightly less shaky ground, as there was a study that demonstrated something like this among American entrepreneurs, but it relied on self reporting (and apparently self diagnosis).

Like I said, I’m feeling churlish today.

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” Repealed

I’m happy about this news. Congratulations to all of you who serve our country with honor despite being treated as a second class citizen or as a ticking time bomb. For those of you for whom this comes too late, I’m sorry.

The “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy is the first gay rights issue I can remember being aware of. I was in high school when President Clinton gave the executive order that created the policy, and while I understand that the military is inherently a conservative organization and lead by people a generation or more older than I am, it’s difficult for me to understand why a policy so medieval lasted so long, or that it even required debate before being repealed.