Paradise Lost

A common tired lament read often here relates to how the youth of today are just, well, lost.  I really believe that in many ways, they are.  But why?  I am not sure, but the clearest evidences reveal themselves in the culture, in music and other entertainment, and via technological addictions.  There is just no "there" there.  It seems to be a decade by decade decadent decline.  Beginning with the vacuous "hair-bands" of the 80's to the self-loathing of the "grunge" movement and its fallen leader, Kurt Cobain, of the 90's.  Then came the turn of the century and what do we have, Lady Gaga and what I might call "grunge gone techno."  Where is the idealism?  There are occasional bright lights, but generally they come from far away lands and even then Shakira seems to be overtaken by the Gaga-factor.  I believe there is so much technology to distract today with Facebook and text messaging, that young people don't give a second notion to things that really matter.  They seem to be too busy checking up on who is doing what to whom, where and why.  There seems to be a contemporaneous expansion and contraction of the world.  Smaller and more powerful computer chips make the world and all the information it contains infinitely more accessible, but at the same time gives rise to the arrogant attitude of, who cares?  If I can be in constant contact every second with my inner circle, why ever even consider breaking out of it?  Sometimes it drives me mad to see my kids, or Lily's kids, or anyone's kids, being completely engrossed, with every attention molecule that their brains can muster, in their cell phone, or i-phone, or i-pad, or whatever.  I guess we all owe a great deal of gratitude to Steven Jobs for stealing our children.  So what is the answer?  I believe it will come when young people, perhaps through this technological vehicle, catch the idea that there are things that matter other than them and their circle of compadres.  That through this incredible and powerful vehicle change is possible and that they can be catalysts of it.  That poverty can be eliminated, the earth can become a clean place, wars can become unnecessary and irrelevant, and we can really "all get along."  The earth can truly become a smaller bigger place for each person that inhabits it.  We can relate and communicate with far away cultures and by doing so become more cultured.  We can reach out and touch someone in ways that change both them and us.  But right now, all I see, at least for the most part, is that technology is being used to become more and more self-indulgent.  To stay connected at all times to one's small circle of influence is all that really matters, when that really matters the least of all.  There is a possibility here for "paradise lost" to become "paradise gained," but only if the concept of what matters can be expanded light years ahead of where it seems to be at the present moment, at least in the minds of the majority of today's youth and the Gagaestic entertainers that clamour for their attention.  How'z that for a provocative post?

Winners and Losers

They got a name for the winners in the world.  I wanna a name when I lose.....

No, can't take credit for those lines.  That would be the team of Fagen and Becker, better known as Steely Dan.  Now there was a great soundtrack to life.  What do the youth of today have?  Lady Gaga?  Listening to that song (Deacon Blues) and the chorus line had me thinking today about winners and losers and where exactly I might fit among those categories.  I guess a pretty good case can be made for the latter.  Here I am closing my 50th decade on the planet pretty much penny and power - less.  And isn't that the measure most would use to sift the winners and losers in this life?  That is power, prestige and a pot full of gold.  Well, truth be told, I have none of those coveted treasures.  I guess I do possess the power that derives from freedom of will and the prestige of being at the top of the food chain, biologically speaking.  As for the "pot of gold," I am still a little leery that there really is one at the end of any rainbow.  Sometimes that end does seem so close you could reach out and touch it, but then it up and vanishes like a sweet smell in a stiff breeze.  Who really gets assigned to pick winners and losers anyway?  Who makes those rules?  We tend to get down on ourselves if we feel we aren't quite measuring up to them, don't we?  Life can seem so competitive, if you fall into the trap of measuring your worth according to another's yard-stick.  Getting a little sick of constantly competing?  And for what?  Power, prestige and money?  How many people do you know who have all that and more, yet they are still some of the most miserable saps amongst us.  Are they the winners?  Are there really any winners?  Does it matter?  Life can be very difficult and maybe "to win" really means nothing more than the success we have at managing our attitudes in spite of those difficulties.  To live with one's head held high above the rising waters and with one's gaze determinedly fixed on horizons to come, but without ever looking down upon anyone else.  Because, really, whether you're 10 and 1, or 1 and 10, respect for self and others, is always a win....

"Bored" to be Cassady?

Cassady with Kerouac

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.....
Howl, Allen Ginsberg

Recently re-read Jack Kerouac's beat masterpiece, On the Road, for the umpteenth time.  I never get bored reading that book and imagining myself in the front seat with Dean Moriarty, balling the jack over ribbons of lonely highway in search of something uniquely human.  Moriarty, of course, was Kerouac's literary personification of a real person named Neal Cassady.  Cassady, of beatnik fame.  Cassady, the chofer who always drove "Further."  Cassady, who inspired Ginsberg's "Howl."  "Cowboy Neal," who was always at the wheel, of the bus to never-ever-land.  You know there are certain emotionally-depraved words in the English vocabulary that I am just not that fond of (don't much like their Spanish counterparts either).  One of those words is "bored" (or, in Spanish, "aburrido").  Why?  To me to say that you are bored means you are relinquishing your own responsibility to live an interesting life.  Rather, what you are doing, basically, is demanding that life entertain you and that, at least in the moment, it is just not living up to its responsibility.  So you are just, well, "bored."  Was Neal Cassady ever bored?  I doubt it.  He was always too busy drinking (or drugging) to the dregs, vomiting in the gutter, rising to scale mountains of ecstatic experience and then plunging to depths of romantic despair, only to live to repeat the cycle once more.  Destructive, well, yes, but bored, hell no!  He would have none of that.  Life was just too damn interesting to allow such a depressed and defeated word to enter into the vocabularly of his existential existence.  To be bored is to be dead, and Cassady refused to succomb until he counted that last railroad tie.  What's my point in this eve of Christmas 2010 post?  Get up off your ass and wipe the very idea of being "bored" from your cloudy window "pain" of consciousness.  Do something.  Think something.  Be someone.  But, for crying out loud, don't be BORED.

Get Up, Get On
don't hesitate
cause if you do...
you'll surely meet your fate.

Take a clue from
Cassady's jive
and don't be bored...
be ALIVE!

Stumbled upon this rare clip of Cassady with Allen Ginsberg, ranting about the evils of militarism, or communism, or some ism (who the hell knows).  Just dig that gone cat who couldn't sit still long enough to bored.  Go, Cassady, Go!!  and away he went....

What the Beck?

Recently I was back in the U.S. for a short visit.  Took a stroll through a bookstore as I am always prone to do.  You see, many of those great books that one hears about are simply not available here.  I tried Amazon once, but it didn't work that well.  So whenever I am back in the States I usually bring two or three books back home.  I couldn't help noticing that there seems to be a conspiracy afloat.  Most of the books I saw were written by hard-core conservatives and usually with the theme of criticizing Obama.  I guess that's what sells these days.  One guy that really seems to be overly prolific is Glenn Beck.  I didn't feel even the slightest temptation to pick up one of his books.  I like to read things that make me feel inspired, or that motivate me, or that educate me.  I don't need to read a diatribe about how "progressive socialists" are the scum of the earth and are plotting secretly to take over the world and make everyone sing from the global warming hymnal.  Glenn Beck and many who think like him seem to believe that the United States was established by God to spread their firebrand view of conservative capitalism throughout the world and to stamp out any other viewpoint.  Anyone who thinks even the slightest bit different is part of this vast-left-wing progressive socialist conspiracy.  They are the enemy and must be defeated, banished, anihilated from the face of a U.S. dominated earth.  No, I haven't read a single Beck book, but I got an inkling that is what he writes about.  So, I believe I will just stick with something slightly more tolerant and enlightening.  What did I buy?  Well, I was so disgusted with being inundated with Palin and Beck books that I ended up buying Jack Kerouac's immortal, On the Road.  I have only read it about three or four times previous, but I guess what I saw in that bookstore really made me want to do as Kerouac's title suggest and get the "Beck" out of there.

Waxing Nostalgic....or, Just Waxing

Well I did make it here....to 50 that is.  50, five decades, half a century, 26,280,000 seconds....it does seem to be somewhat of an "arrival."  However, to say that I have finally "arrived" would be a bit much, because I am not at all sure to where.  But there is a definite feeling that it is to somewhere.  I have been thinking of making some half a century point declarations.  Like maybe once and for all time to quit drinking, cold turkey.  Although, I am a little wary that the idea is just an over-reaction to my birthday celebration hangover.  I would like the next stage of my life to be about something....exactly what that "something" is I am not altogether sure, but there is this little voice inside that keeps whispering the suggestion that the next 10 to 50 years maybe should be a bit less about me.  If all I can say is that I have arrived at that discovery, I guess it is better than nothing.  Anyways, here I am like it, or not.  I have been doing quite a bit of "waxing nostalgic" lately.  I looked the phrase up prior to using it in this post, since at first blush it seems a bit confusing.  It is not necessarily about remembering the past per say, but to grow in fondness of such remembrances....hence the waxing.  I have definitely done a bit of waxing lately, evidenced by the growing size of my waistline.  But really folks, 50 years.  I am sure there are a few out there who have already far exceeded that milestone who are thinking, so what, big deal.  But "wax nostalgic" yourself for a moment and remember hitting that mark and how it made "you" feel.  See, it isn't quite so trivial and insignificant, now is it?  I have seen a lot, done a lot, experienced a lot over those years.  I can't say that I've "done it all" (well, I could say it, and we old fogeys are fond of saying such things, but it of course wouldn't be at all true....I mean I have never shot anyone....thought about it a few times, even rehearsed it in my head, but never actually accomplished that feat, among a few others).  However, I can say that the 50 years of my existence on this earth have been quite a ride to nowhere in particular.  Maybe it is time I began charting a course, since the next great milestone may really be the ultimate and final "arrival."