My USB turntable arrived.  I’ll be lugging that home tonight in preparation for the process of turning my beloved album collection into MP3s.  I don’t know why I didn’t look into doing this sooner but, well, timing can be everything.  When synchronicities pile up, there is much to contemplate.  Indeed, certain synchronicities have been piling up for me lately and I have been doing a lot of contemplation.  Most of these synchronicities have centered around music with an oblique trajectory down other avenues every now and again.

Music can be a powerful mnemonic device.  A particular song can trigger an emotion or a memory. Music can bring up something inside a person, a something that is nebulous and the defining of which hovers just out of reach.  I will be traipsing through alternate worlds in both memory and emotion while the albums play and the laptop duplicates and stores the songs to be transformed.

This MP3 process coincides tidily with another activity I’ve been engrossed in for the past week.  Since Facebook required Groups to upgrade to the new format or be archived, three groups I belong to have done the upgrade and so too have become incredibly active.  These groups are “Chatterbox San Francisco,” “Nightbreak,” and “Mabuhay Gardens.”  These were popular bar and music venues that existed in San Francisco through or at some points during the late 1970’s, through the 1980’s and the mid 1990’s.  We all saw so much raw live music and had so many wild escapades at these places.

The past has come alive again as many members of these groups started sharing memories and stories, posting scans of pictures, flyers, and other memorabilia from those time periods at those venues, as well as other places in San Francisco.

These FB groups are providing nostalgic glances into what was happening and surfacing in the music scene back then.  It’s all a fantastic and interesting read, especially if you were part of the scene in those days, and perhaps even if you weren’t.  There is quite a bit of San Francisco punk and alternative music history from those decades, both important and frivolous, in those discussion threads.

The group with the most impact for me is the Mabuhay Gardens group.  Pivotal people, bands, events, songs, experiences of the members regarding the unfolding San Francisco punk and alternative music scene are discussed and remembered.  The Mabuhay Gardens group in particular contains an incredible amount of San Francisco punk and alternative music scene history.  What a monumental time to be alive, to be a part of and sharing in that music and cultural movement.

Another group recently started, “In Memoranium, Friends of the Mab and Beyond,” is a group honoring and remembering many of the integral individuals, the movers and shakers, the trailblazers, the performers and the audience members of that scene.  Some of the memories and stories posted in that group trigger melancholy and wistfulness but overall, for me, the nostalgic reminiscing is uplifting.  As I read, I quietly celebrate the contributions of those people during a significant and groundbreaking time period.

So this week is all about the “old skool” music for me.  The memories and the people I knew well or just knew peripherally.  I feel extremely fortunate to have experienced those bands, those venues and bars, those exceptional moments in San Francisco punk and alternative music history.  I remain pessimistic, however, that such a substantial musical and cultural groundswell will ever materialize again.

I love just happening upon something in my apartment, a forgotten curio or sentimental memento tucked away somewhere, not apparent to the every day glance.  During all the moves over the years I’ve slowly eliminated many superfluous clutter-y things.  Not as a result of a manic, emotion-tinged purge but more through a gradual, psychological process of elimination.  As much as I adore the “attic stuffed with quirky curiosities and interesting trifles” aesthetic, that can get claustrophobic in a small apartment. 

So happening upon that forgotten curio occurs much less often now.  I don’t have trunks and chests or other storage containers filled with memorabilia and trifles, items silently waiting for an opportune decorating scheme (or a larger living space) to make a reappearance.  That makes me feel wistful.  There can be some mighty heady memories associated with the clutter we keep.  At times this can be wonderful, at others, maybe a bit too maudlin?

When I relocated to New Orleans in 2000 after living in San Francisco for 20 plus years, I did have many mementos and curios in storage.  It took me more than two weeks to slowly go through all of it, trying to be realistic about what I really wanted to ship across country and what would be put in the trash or recycled via thrift store donation.  As moving day got closer I was exhausted from re-reviewing decades of my life via assorted stored items.  My decision making became more ruthless and I tossed or donated things willy nilly.

I acquired more curios, mementos and trifles while living in New Orleans.  Hurricane Katrina happened and so another large-scale elimination happened as well, unbidden.  I lost many of my collectibles, some highly valuable but probably only to me.  I lost a large number of very old family photographs.  These two losses were the ones that hurt.  Those photos and particular items were definitely things I would have kept with me through a lifetime. 

I’m still collecting strange bibelots.  I continue to have odds and ends here and there.  Sometimes I “outgrow” a particular item and I donate it.  Then something else catches my fancy and it finds a place in my home.  I am cultivating that “attic stuffed with quirky curiosities and interesting trifles” aesthetic but in a more restrained manner.  I don’t want a congested junk shop ambiance. 

I flirt with wishful thinking and daydream about living in a larger apartment in a building with a peculiar history.  Or a haunted cottage or house.  Or (if I want to dream big here), a haunted mansion.  If that were to come to pass, my curio collecting habits would definitely run amok, so for now, a small apartment is exactly the right size!

The 24 hour news cycle is at critical saturation.  How much more encroachment is possible?  There is no technological stone left unturned at this point, is there?  It certainly seems to be getting all Orwellian up in here and while I despair somewhat at making such a cliché of a comparison, the comparison is not to be taken in the "Big Brother/they are always watching” sense.  I mean it purely in the instant access/all news all the time 24 hour news cycle sense. 

I guess a person can pick and choose what they wish to focus on and what they wish to filter out.  However, it is almost impossible to avoid a headline at this point, even if you quickly scroll past it. 

I actually don’t mind all the instant access/all information all the time aspects of the 24 hour information cycle.  It’s convenient, for sure, and I love me some convenience.  But lately there are two news items that are being trumpeted everywhere and with a nagging relentlessness.  I’m also at critical saturation regarding these items.  And that brings me to a few rhetorical questions, which, once uttered, can almost provide an answer for same, especially if the utterance is sarcastically made:

Item 1 -  The Royal Wedding:

Is it really possible that so many hordes of people are actually interested in the latest Royal Wedding?

Is this the result of some sort of Pavlovian programming at the deep cellular level that compels so many to continue to revere, as expressed by this fascination, this particular Monarchy?

Is it the pomp and circumstance surrounding it along with the garish over-the-top media coverage from all quarters that acts as the carrot before the horse (the cheese in the trap) (the song in the siren) and lures all these people into such a Pavlovian, reflex fascination?

Item 2 - The Birthers:

Is it really possible that so many hordes of people are actually desperately invested in believing that President Obama is not a U.S. citizen?

Is this the result of some sort of Pavlovian programming at the most basic psychological level that compels so many to continue to embarrass themselves by revealing they are racist loons?

Is it the pomp and circumstance surrounding it along with the garish over-the-top media coverage from all quarters that acts as the carrot before the horse (the cheese in the trap) (the song in the siren) and lures all these people into such a Pavlovian, reflex fascination?

Those two items may be worlds apart on the surface but their underlying modus operandi seems to be exactly the same.  (“Modus operandi” being as close as possible descriptor for what I am trying to express.)

Anyway, enough time-killing pondering for now.  Time for some after work vino with friends!

*(with apologies to the fantastic movie, 24 Hour Party People!)

I’ve been a lazy online journaler!  I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately both online and off.  I’ve also been studying (although, the studying actually does consist of mainly reading so, why quibble?), and so much else is going on lately that perhaps it is time for a bit of a recap.

Truthfully, I’ve been trying to avoid writing any old thing in my blog.  I’ve been trying to focus on essays pieces with subject matter that I can sink my interest, joy or anger into but alas, I lose steam much of the time when too busy with life.  Finishing up a partial piece days later doesn’t recapture the enthusiasm of the moment when it was started.  This doesn’t hold true for everything, of course. 

This will be more of a personal update, containing nothing heady or thought-provoking (probably).

I recently revamped my cozy little apt and made it even cozier.  I kept much of the gothic/Neo-Victorian style aspects because, who would I be kidding?  That is me and I don’t wish to pretend otherwise.  I incorporated another of my stylistic obsessions, softening the apt decor with an “Art Nouveau” inspired color palette: sapphire or royal blues, soft slate gray, jade, a bit of desert pink, dusty turquoise, and forest-y green, hues of lilac or indigo, antique, tarnished or dusty gold.  I was pleased and surprised because I expected more of a stylistic battle raging between the Neo-Victorian/goth elements versus the Art Nouveau.   It all works quite well together!  (Pics below show the color scheme that inspired me.) 



Metal and wood furniture stuff in browns and black.  I just recently invested in a large, soft wool area rug in a solid dark caramel color that looks great on the hardwood floor and is SO SOFT! 

I used my Federal tax return to fund this apt project because, why not?  It was exhausting and time-consuming to do all the research and shopping though.  I did not do any painting, just changed out furniture, added some new pieces, changed out drapes, cushions, rugs, art and other accent pieces I wasn’t enamored with anymore.  Did some rearranging and,  VOILA!  It’s almost like being in a brand new place!  I’m keeping the red and black apt décor stuff in storage b/c I still love my red velvet drapes and may use them again some day.

Lately I’ve also been editing and proofing a San Francisco friend’s supernatural mystery novel and other assorted short stories.  She’s gotten inspired again and her inspiration and output inspires me in turn.  I’m looking into taking a script, screenplay and/or teleplay writing class or workshop locally.  Researching that right now but I wouldn’t look askance at any kind of writing class since I’m feeling extra-inspired lately (even though I’m not posting much on my blog).

I guess that’s the essential news.  Travel plans loom for Florence in October but nothing as yet in between now and then.  Spontaneous trips are possible!  I’m also still djaying twice a month with Janel, Scott and Terrance at whorePOD and having a absolute blast with that.  We are in the third year!  I’m also keeping pretty busy socially on a regular basis but have achieved finesse when applying the “just say no” tactic for when prioritizing or just plain ole rest is needed.  Guess I’m finally settling nicely into a less frenetic adulthood, and you know what?  It’s not so bad after all!
 

It’s been a mixed experience, the past 9 or so months.  I’ve been adjusting my lifestyle and rearranging priorities into more (*gulp*) age-appropriate patterns.  (And by age-appropriate I certainly don’t mean sliding into a hermit-y / home bound, still-life way of living.)  Many of my friends and acquaintances are going through similar transitions.  These transitions are due to aging along with other factors that generate significant lifestyle change.  But I believe aging to be the main component for just about everyone.

My transition has not gone gently.  I’ve been pretty frustrated, angry, depressed and melancholy about “letting the party go” so that I could transition to a more realistic way of living.  (Letting the party go can act as a general analogy because this process doesn’t just reference scaling back on the partying, drinking, nightclubbing, etc.  It refers to a manner of embracing and living life.)  I had a great run with the “rage to live” mentality but it got humiliating, personally, to keep avoiding the truth about what needed to be faced, and where I needed to place myself at this point in time. 

I dealt with temporary but annoyingly repetitive health issues which forced me to take longer breaks than usual from my rage to live lifestyle.  At the same time, I’ve had issues with waning interest in things about which I used to be energetically passionate.  I still have strong interest in some of those things but they are experienced in a milder, less frequent and more poised state.

Since I began this process, haltingly started about mid-summer last year, I’ve had some starkly rebellious phases that kicked my ass with depressing (and telling) repercussions.  I had to learn to resist backsliding through negative reinforcement.  (Unpleasant!)

It’s the feeling of slowly becoming invisible that stings the most.  Especially when I have friends in their 20’s and 30’s who are still very “visible.”  (The word “visible” as used in that sentence possesses many different slants on its meaning to be contemplated).  Yet it is refreshing to realize that I still have a strong sense of presence (and present) in the microcosm worlds that are ripening as these adjustments are accomplished.  It is difficult though.  I may backslide a few times more until these new patterns become second nature as opposed to being a constant focused effort.  I can’t wait for that to happen because this “letting the party go” shit is somber and emotionally draining.

The unexpected up side is that I feel much better about myself.  (I thought I’d feel morose.)  Not from a morality standpoint or a maturity standpoint.  I’m not applauding myself for finally making these age-appropriate adjustments.  It was necessary and it was time.  Nor am I abandoning anything permanently or doing one of those extreme purges.  I’ll still partake of some of that rage to live stuff.  I just won’t partake as often or in the same rampaging way.  Though it is unsettling to recognize that I am in fact losing interest in some of them.  It may be my own lack of interest that determines whether something is truly still a part of this version of me or merely a remnant from a defunct version of me.

One of my dearest friends wrote this recently:  “I have changed since Katrina, and I do not like the person I have become.”  That made me sad because I’ve known him for a long time. I value his creativity, his wit and charm, his friendship.  I adore him, every version of him (even the relentless “Complaining about California” version) and I can only hope he feels differently some day. 

In contrast I can say: I too have changed in the years since Hurricane Katrina but I am content with the person I have become.  (And a little surprised too.)  It is the latest version of me but it is not the last version of me. 

Well now, this is all very naval gaze-y.  But I wanted to memorialize my thoughts since I finally seem to be acclimating to the fresh center of gravity in my life for what will be, I assume, the second half of my life.  Who knows? (And I’m not really asking either!)

The movie Red Riding Hood is out, directed by Catherine Hardwicke who did (egads) "Twilight."  I’ve seen billboard ads and quick previews on TV.  Against my jaded expectations I’ve thought “Hmmmm..  That looks….interesting.”  The brief aesthetics in the previews and the still life aesthetics in the ads were doing a siren song on me, though, because advance reviews coming out are thrillingly negative. 

I’ve read a couple of good articles today re this movie and I’m posting links below.  However, these articles have spoilers so if you want to remain in the dark about the movie, don’t click.  I don’t discuss any of the spoilers in my writing here.

Article by Crasstalk commenter PandaRobots:

http://crasstalk.com/2011/03/red-riding-hood-twilight-for-team-jacob/

I read this article first and it completely deflated the desire to see the movie, which made me feel pouty.  The writer labels the movie “Twilight for Team Jacob” and that was the first and cruelest puncture in the deflating because, so much ick.  A while ago I actually Netflixed “Twilight” to see what the furor was and laughed all through it.  It was so twee, saccharine and overwrought.  When it first hit its popularity stride, I did open a copy of the book but couldn’t even make it through 10 pages. 

The second article was at http://www.theawl.com/ and is by Melissa Lafsky.  It’s entitled “’Red Riding Hood’ and the Gripping Jaws of Sexless Teens.”  It approaches the movie from a different angle.  In giving Catherine Hardwicke some credit where it’s due, the article states:

“Her films understand a fundamental truth about humans trapped in the binds of puberty:  They wanna bang any and everything, and if they can’t, they act out in some other way.  Which, in movie-land, usually means some level of blood-spurting gore.”

So that almost makes up for the first article because it sounds like all is not too huzzah-hokey and that the movie is not filled with sweetness and light or shiny twee angsty werewolf people.  I’ll still probably wait to Netflix “Red Riding Hood” though.  Or maybe I’ll just Netflix and rewatch “The Company of Wolves” which is so very satisfying a reworking of the Red Riding Hood concept.

I wish someone would do a series of dark, sinister movies based on Tanith Lee’s book, “Red As Blood, Or, Tales From The Sisters Grimmer.”  The sublime retellings and variations on familiar tales in that book are fantastic.  Very twisted, unexpected and disturbing.  From the online bibliography at  http://www.daughterofthenight.com/ 

“How would it be if Snow White were the real villain and the “wicked queen” just a sadly maligned innocent?  What if awakening the Sleeping Beauty should be the mistake of a lifetime - of several lifetimes?  What if the famous folk tales were retold with an eye to more horrific possibilities?”

YES PLEASE. 

The Twilight books and movies continue and other sorts will follow.  These tweeny takes on the supernatural have resulted in the supernatural and horror elements being scrubbed of their baleful tarnish.  This is a polishing of the ominous unknown, leaving it with a gaudy sheen that dilutes the sense of mystery and diminishes the eerie.  So far it is mostly vampires that have been dragged into the twee light of day in order to make them easily digestible for the Biebernauts.  I hope this tweenification ends soon but probably it is only going to spread to other supernatural or horror concepts.  And that’s another type of horror altogether.

Manufactured nostalgia is a widely-used (and successful) device in advertising.  False nostalgia is an adopted syndrome that is either resultant from or is perpetuated by manufactured nostalgia.  Both go hand in hand.

This post in The Awl by Josh Kurp reflects in detail on the initiation and evolvement of false nostalgia:

http://www.theawl.com/2010/12/false-nostalgia-how-vh1-ruined-the-taste-of-a-generation

I think the entire article is excellent.  While it focuses on certain specifics (VH1 and the release of a movie sequel), the subtext therein adds significant dimension to the idea of false nostalgia.

“…Those shows gave just enough information to its viewers that they could sound relatively intelligent in talking about pop culture without actually having seen, listened to or owned said culture product, particularly when it was new.”   (Italics are mine.)

And here is another quote from the same article which nicely encapsulates the main concept of false nostalgia:  

“I spoke about ‘Til Tuesday as if I had heard ‘Voices Carry’ constantly on the radio in 1985, which I did not.  My friends do the same thing, for things for which they weren’t actually alive—and it’s not like we’re talking about the Beatles here, we're talking about MTV VJs and Pound Puppies.  Our memories of things we couldn’t possibly remember were brought to us by VH1, and they’ve stuck.”

I am enjoying the examination of the manufactured/false nostalgia concept, studying aspects of its emergence, and marveling at how it has seeped into everything.  It has tentacles of influence everywhere, both obvious and insidious.

“VH1 was but the forefather: once we were trained, Google and Wikipedia and YouTube largely replaced it as a tool for the false nostalgia impulse. . . . Everything became a giant in-joke that everyone was supposed to get.”

I’ve only excerpted a brief bit of that article and I recommend it as a thought-provoking read, insofar as socio-cultural pieces go.  There’s good discussion in the article’s comment section too.

A more recent article, also in The Awl, written by Brent Cox, prodded my thought process again on the topics of manufactured/false nostalgia.  This is a “generational divide” themed piece but I still found elements of manufactured/false nostalgia subtext within the main content:

http://www.theawl.com/2011/02/meet-the-permaslacks-older-now-but-still-wearing-the-same-clothes

I’m not condemning or rallying behind anything in either piece.  I found them extremely interesting to read from a psychological/sociological/cultural standpoint.  The Permaslacks piece is a harsh audit of the foibles, traits, quirks and Achilles’ heel inclinations of the Millennial generation.  Aside from that, once again there is a distinct manufactured/false nostalgia thread weaving its way in:

“…the Permaslacks, who have absorbed culture like dry sponges over the spans of their lives, starting with the lunch boxes they took to school and the TV shows their parents watched and going forward from there.  In fact, nostalgia is a constant backdrop for the PS, a nostalgia that isn’t even anything that grew over time: it was always there, and it was never personal.”    (Italics are mine)

While not described as extreme a condition as in the earlier VH1 article, it is still curious for me that the manufactured/false nostalgia concept manages to seep in as a strong contributing factor.  But, there is a difference in how the participants of each piece are being described. 

In the VH1-based article, I come away with the idea that individuals en masse (generationally speaking) are absorbing and adopting the trappings of a manufactured and therefore false nostalgia.  But they are not really aware that this is occurring.  So it’s osmosis through sustained exposure, obvious or subliminal, instead of a conscious embracing of it for aesthetic or even kitsch value?  Are they being likened to lemmings or poseurs?  A bit of both?

In the second Permaslacks-based article, we have this:

“The enthusiasms of the PS die hard, and while snobs in their own way, they find what they like and are persistent in lobbying for it.  And it is not ironic or purely nostalgic, this affection for Jack Kirby or Philip K. Dick, but rather an insistence on these objects' inherent quality.  Kitsch is not an affectation, it’s just that the gatekeepers hadn’t realized the good in the kitsch hidden behind the shabby.”

So….what?  In the second article, there is more of a cognizant appreciation and actual affection?  Is this considered a more innocuous side-effect of the manufactured/false nostalgia?  Just a quirk in their wiring, nothing more?

The Permaslacks article is pretty brutal on the Millennials.  Granted, the article is speaking in sweeping generalities but I would be lying if I didn’t agree that some of those generalities are in fact very omnipresent in the many Millennials I’ve worked with, known, or observed. 

“But perhaps the most acute trait of the PS, of me, is the dogged insistence in one’s own uniqueness, that one’s story is an anomaly, a precious snowflake of a blessing/curse.  And one of the hardest lessons to learn, above and beyond the array of consequence-of-one’s-actions lessons that fill a lifetime, is that, no, you are not unique.  In fact, you are a demographic.  I am not unique.  I am a demographic.  No matter how many years you spent convinced that you were trail-blazing, you were marching in lockstep with untold others.  An army of non-conformists, all trying to be different in exactly the same way.”

Perhaps the prevalence of manufactured nostalgia leads to the condition of false nostalgia.  Or perhaps the embracing by so many of a false nostalgia has triggered that which is regularly and expertly manufactured.  The dilemma is that you cannot argue that you are a unique snowflake if you are co-opting aspects of the past like so many others before you, with you and no doubt after you.  You are then part of a very large herd.  A large demographic herd.  And because of this, in spite of your belief in your own uniqueness, you can be catered to and marketed to in the same breath.

I’m not pondering these things as an accusation.  I have a false nostalgia for certain things – everything about the Fin de Siècle French and European cultural movement, for instance.  But as future generations are born, mature, get old – where will they get their own unique snowflake brand of nostalgia?  I fear it will just be a recycling of the same false nostalgia trends.  Especially those being perfected by the vast interconnected mechanism of advertising, marketing, the entertainment and social networking industries and the media.

I am a D.J., I am what I play
I got believers (kiss-kiss) Believing me, oh
One more, weekend, of lights and evening faces
Fast food, living nostalgia
Humble pie or bitter fruit
I am a D.J., I am what I play
Can't turn around no, can't turn around no, ooh