Archive for June, 2009
Something about Beatles fans has always really annoyed me. It’s like they know some secret of life that eludes me. Even worse, the secret is supposed to be so obvious, that when I obviously don’t enjoy their music, they all just look at me like dude what the fuck is wrong with you.
Growing up the Beatles were aggravating, all their happy lyrics and the way they turned complicated issues into simple pictorial statements really rubbed me the wrong. There were like a ray of light trying to pierce an abyss, except imagine the sun has a submarine and is submerging itself in order to chase away the blues. Such is the way Beatles fans feel to me, ya know like you have to be happy or something is wrong with you. Which, granted, something is wrong with me, but The Beatles simplicity, their lack of emotional depth or complications, that they could just ya know write songs that simple really annoyed me and brings me no satisfaction. Everytime they came on the jukebox I always felt that slight dread, the day Revoltion 9’s grating radio feedback would become part of my everyday listening habits, when the stupid refrain from The Taxman would cease to annoy and the simple energy of the song would take over. I dreaded the moment that The Beatles became good to me when the icy waters of my soul would have to give in to their chimes and I would float away like a bird on pyschdelic jetsome.
Now we could argue that all great bands are built on such reputations. A lot of people don’t like Bob Dylan… I love him, but his last few albums have totally sucked. But unfortunately somewhere in the repetitive nature of broadcast, in the groups dynamics that keep us all in one uniform culture, we are repeatably exposed to other’s taste, but where Dylan might actually elicit a thought, The Stones might capture the alienation of racial or sexual minorities, The Beatles are always upholding a (yes I really am going to use this term) a status qou. They are the music of a generation that interpreted the sixities counter-culture as a break before suburbia, now mind you their values are better than many, they are after all anti-war and all that and when Paul McCartney goes out on a limb supporting the Dali Lama or whatever he seems quite sincere as much that Yoko and John had something to day, but I just really don’t like their music. So I’ve devised the following game for everyone to play.
Think of a moment before you liked band X. Now hold that feeling in your memory and repeat it. Now repeat after me, “I hate ____________.” Just say it, right now in front of the monitor. Do this everyday till you really build up a resistance to band X. Now look in the mirror everyday and remember that you have just defeated a part of the capitalist machine. Good luck Warrior =)
On a similar note, it would be interesting to get people who intrinisically dislike a certian music together in a room. i.e. a photo of people who hate The Beatles, a photo of people who hate The Rolling Stones, etc.
About 7 years ago I nearly date raped a girl. I remember crying on the phone trying to apologize. At the time I had a kinda uppity attitude about the thing, I thought well I’m not like other guys, I’m sensitive, I’m in touch with women. I understand them. I must be ya know like close to the perfect guy. Except of course very few of them wanted me.
When I first began sleeping with guys about a year ago I was amazed. I completely couldn’t understand their desire, it was alien remote from another world. Like their pyschologies, I couldn’t quite get them, they didn’t get me I didn’t get them. I was stranded between the genders, remote from women by experience, alienated from men by socializing. I was locked in myself, there was no external person only closed in interests and relations via the material world (i.e. intellectual pursuits, video games, magic the gathering etc). The former still being my main way of relating to people. But what struck me was the respect, the way they didn’t seem to be looking down on me, the sex wasn’t sleazy, I wasn’t dominated, I was a queen with her subjects, in control of the situation, my suitors trying to please me.
What occurs to me now is that ironically because my heterosexuality isn’t formed around giving pleasure, but rather on identification, it actually somehow is worse than the typical heterosexuality, it drives me to desperation, to push the boundaries of what to others would be friends. It was my own assurded belief that I was the better suitor that made the worse.
Last night I dreamed of my sister. I was at a kathoey beauty pagneat with this african-american guy from a different dream of a house. Afterwards we get on a bus & go to this stadium. We meet these two white guys he sells pot to. He leaves and the guys are nice. They want to smoke some pot. I go outside. The kathoey bus has arrived, it is snowing, the parking lot is covered in white sheets. My sister is in one of the windows, we sit on the trunk of a car and talk.
I have to many dreams to count. I am a secret agent in an office building. Multiple die, but we keep going back in time to restage the dream to a suitable conclusion. My sister works in the building. She goes into the bathroom or something (a small one toilet addendum to an account’s cramped officed of laptops). An assassin comes in to kill her, I manage to get in the way. Later we walk over the dust fields of mars.
The greatest periods in human histoty have involved the mass importation of ethnic knowledge from abroad. The Renaissance was essentialy the importation of Roman and Greek and especially Asian knowledge and ways of thinking & governing. Asians today are spending their lives accumulating new forms of knowing some detrimental to their ethnicity others cut off from ethnicity by colonialism just learning to reformulate their selves.
The past is rich and deep, it is full of ethnicities worth assuming and models of society and government far more well thought than many today, but because we sit at the top of the heap, we assume the past is inferior. The Western now is full of hubris, we think we are the most tolerant, the most open, the most humane etc, but It was the periods where the present had humility to the past that gave the present its most advanced and complicated forms and its greatest openess to its own potentiality.
I’ve known two Masas so far. Both of them remind me of each other. Masa two works at my school as a Japanese teacher, he’s polite, but a little ugly. He has a girlfriend back in Japan. Masa one is a DJ who seems to be becoming increasingly more popular. Both like talking to me, Masa Two has a certian downtrodden aspect to him, as if he’s eternally about to give up and die. Masa one looks like he’s about to take over the world. I like both Masas in my own way, One is a winner and you just wanna know him, Two is homely and kind, he writes down your name in his notebook so he can remember, he teaches at 4 different schools. One runs a successful clothing shop, Two dreams of teaching in Australia. What is the difference between these two? Genetics? Environment? I would like to think the former.
You see, I believe Masa Two was the result of alien abductions. At night I imagine him waking up in terror dreaming of being abducted, saucer weather. I know this because I was abducted, I remember white hands on my bed post, helplessness as I levitated off my Memphis bed, my trickle of Pavement and Bob Dylan records on the floor, Masa Two shows the signs of a brain swap, he’s not the person he thinks he should be. I don’t know what’s wrong with Masa Two, but if Masa One had been abducted, I imagine his 6 year old self touring the UFO perhaps glimpsing the cosmos for a second out a holographic wall. These things occur to me because neither Masa is fullfilled, but the fullfilled are rarely done with the world. No their lot keeps trying, and maybe Masa Two will find that alien in Sydney, kick his ass, play with his guts.
As of late I’ve been entertaining violent fantasises. These went away from awhile but chalk dust and meat are contributing factors to my rage. Despite this, I am nicer to my students than I ever have been, this is because I’m becoming a woman. I didn’t know this until today when one of my students (a young woman with a kathoey friend) stopped at the end of class and sat around, and then just as I was leaving she said, “good bye girl” and then to clarify she said, “I think you’re a girl”. Judging from the pictures of me in class, she might be right:
I know… it’s a beautiful process. =)