Colin Panetta

tessastrain:

theidiotking:

I think I reached the end of Netflix. If you select episode one it’s just a time lapse video of clouds at dusk. Seriously.

An example of the uncanny. An example of the uncanny. An example of the uncanny. An example of the uncanny. An example of the uncanny.

I often get so sick of the music I listen to that I have to switch to classical or noise for a few weeks. I get sick of movies and TV shows too, but there’s no accessible alternative. This Example Show on Netflix felt like that though. I really enjoyed watching it, and I wish there were hours of this stuff. I would also love it if there were high quality live feeds of city streets and people’s workplaces.

I had my tarot read by King Khan last weekend. I was mildly drunk, and I was told in the moments before walking up to him that I had to come up with a question. I didn’t quite grasp that the question was what the tarot reading was going to be about. (Not knowing anything about tarot I thought it was going to be a general fortune reading). I formulated a question around what I had planned on talking to him about anyway, that he had his tarot read by the great mystic storyteller Alejandro Jorodowsky. I walked up and he told me that my girlfriend, who had seen him right before me, was a great girl. “Did she tell you how we met?” I asked. “I don’t care,” he said. “What’s your question?” I told him that I had heard the thing about Jorodowsky, and he told me that he was in fact trained in tarot by him. I asked him my question “Where do Jorodowsky’s stories get their power?” “That’s an easy one.” King Khan said, as he flipped over the first card. I was shocked to see him holding, accompanied by an an “I told you so” face (captured in the photo above), The Hermit. He flipped over a bunch more cards, but all I remember is one of a person being hung from their foot by a noose, of which King Khan said “He’s trapped by his own devices,” and The Star (“He’s a star”). “I know these cards forward and backwards, man.” King Khan said, shrugging the reading off. He shook my hand, told me he’d see me at his show in Cambridge the next week, and that I had a great girlfriend and to take care of her.

I was a little embaressed about the experience at first. Everyone else asked about their jobs and life, and I asked about a movie director. But the broader implications of the reading became obvious to me pretty quickly, as I realised why seeing The Hermit card was such a shock. Finding time to create my own stories has long been a struggle for me, and I often wonder if I would have to cut my self off from the world in order to give them the attention they truly need. If I need to be The Hermit. The reading would suggest so. But then I thought about how heavily King Khan had stressed the importance of my relationship. I’ve been doing better recently than I ever had before at balancing the solitary life demanded by my storytelling with the requirements of maintaining a relationship. I took these two messeges, seemingly at odds, to mean that I was on the right path and to continue down it. I also thought about my struggles to allow room for my own thoughts during my alone time, and not to drown them out with television and podcasts. In addition to continue my efforts in finding a balance between making time for my stories and my relationship, I need to be a better Hermit.

It’s hard to reconcile my belief that this type of thing (tarot cards, psychic readings, etc.) most likely has the impact it often does by being vague and allowing people to draw their own conclusions, with how strongly it felt like this reading was saying things specifically to me. Seeing other people’s faces as they relayed their experience with King Khan’s deck implied to me that other people had this same dissidence. It doesn’t matter, of course. A lesson is a lesson, whether divined to you by the cosmos or shrugged off by a rock star with his naked beer belly sticking out of his vest. I wonder how many lessons pass me by because they’re not packaged as mysticism.

Functioning

1. Take a deep breath. Accept any current negative feelings in order to alleviate as much stress as possible.
2. Get to work with the mindset of completing tasks one step at a time in order to avoid getting overwhelmed by the enormity of everything I want to accomplish.
3. Relax in order to recharge batteries before returning to step one.

* If progression from Step 1 to Step 2 is stalling out, it is sometimes necessary to jump directly to Step 3.

Wednesday I could tell something was starting to go wrong. I decided to take it easy in an attempt to cut it off at the pass. But on Thursday I made the mistake of going into work anyway (I’ve been taking too many days off lately), and by the end of the day it had taken hold. Friday and Saturday were spent in such an enhanced fever-state that not only couldn’t I think, but I couldn’t even process how bad it was. A friend of mine recently suffered some brain damage, and the endless cycles of broken logic he described to me started to ring true. My mind was constantly spinning, ensnared in frantic, worried circles. Once when I was young my mother was driving me to school and we came upon something in the road. A small mouse, running in circles so fast you could barely see it. When she would beep the horn it would jump straight up in the air and very high, but otherwise it never stopped or slowed for an instant. I thought it was kind of funny, until she told me it must be injured so badly that running in circles was all it could do (we ran it over). The thoughts that were running through my mind while it was doing this were beyond absurd, but seemed desperately important at the time. “How are Joss Whedon and I going to make Avengers 2?” Some thoughts would become so abstract that they became shapes, like a small black shape-shifting one that was moving down the valley of a larger white shape that was folded into a “v” (the black one most frequently resembled an elongated diamond). It always felt like a nightmare, extremely stressful, and sleep seemed repulsive to me. The idea of sleep made absolutely no sense, and I avoided it until I had no other choice. (Which was a good move because by that point I’d fall asleep pretty quickly.) I did have one weapon in my arsenal- the ability to use television shows to incapacitate my brain, which is their intended purpose anyway. Community, Doctor Who and New Girl all disabled my mind to the point that none of this was an issue. They were my salvation on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday I could tell I was starting to feel better, but still wasn’t functional. Sleep was starting to feel pleasurable again, and I would even slip in and out of these strange half-asleep half-awake states where I felt like I couldn’t move. I eventually decided they were regenerative periods, my body repairing itself. On Monday, today, I finally did the dishes.

Here are some notes that a co-worker and I found a couple days after New Year’s Day 2012 next to the abandoned church on Phillips St. in Northampton, MA. We found them one by one and spaced apart from each other, which made it feel kind of exciting. Like we were collecting items in a video game or clues to solve a mystery. They’re presented in the order they were found, which I don’t believe to be the order they were written in. It also appears that we’re missing at least one page, assuming the “7x” on the second page alludes to seven New Year’s resolutions.

This past Christmas eve I slept in the house I grew up in. Directly beside my bed is a window, through which is a field, past which are woods, far behind which are mountains. I drank way too much coffee way too late with my family (they kept offering), and I couldn’t fall asleep. One of the times I opened my eyes, I thought I saw a light moving in the sky. I dismissed it at first, but then decided to keep my eyes open a while to investigate. I saw it again. It was as if there was a massive lighthouse off in the mountains, straight ahead of me. The massive beam of light would pass over my house, then circle around again, over and over. For the first few minutes I thought “Maybe this is the start of an experience I won’t remember this morning” and tried to cement it in my mind so that maybe I would. Standing in front of the massive windows in the living room after I had been watching the light for a couple of hours, I realized it was just something that I would never have an explanation for. The thought that maybe there’s more to this memory than I have access to seems purely academic.

A Letter About Louis CK From A Straight White Man To A Women and Gay Rights Activist

Hey Jessie,

Basically you are going to have to come over to my house and watch a Louis CK comedy special, because I spend way too much time wondering what you would think of his material. But I think it would be beneficial if I were able to communicate a couple of things to you first. Disclaimers, I guess.

First of all, a couple disclaimers to this disclaimer. I know that you are as capable as anyone of watching a thing and enjoying it. You don’t need protection, and you don’t need special treatment. But knowing you fairly well as I do, and knowing CK’s material very well as I do, I predict that some friction might occur, and I think it’s possible for me to minimize the damage. Also, I’m going to be using this letter as a springboard to expand some of my thoughts about CK’s work, which is going to make it overblown far beyond anything you would actually find useful.

So, I think the biggest disconnect you’re going to have with CK is that he is a straight white man, and that point of view is an intrinsic aspect to his work. It’s not that I think you’d have a problem with that, but I do think you might have some trouble connecting to it because of this. CK’s work is basically mapping out the furthest reaches of what a straight white male mind as a product of modern America thinks about. As a result, his work very strongly connects with this contingency. I think the fact that he is currently so massively popular but you only seem to have heard of him in passing speaks to how little overlap there is between his culture and yours.

Again, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of understanding the straight white male mind. It’s more that I predict the method with which he depicts the far out reaches of it to be a little confusing and possibly concerning to you. I have this theory about CK’s work that when he’s delivering his observations to the audience, he’s not saying “Isn’t this crazy?” but he’s in fact saying “Isn’t it crazy that I think that?” He is sometimes explicit about this, calling himself stupid or crazy or fucked up, but he often isn’t. So when he talks about gay people being kind of a mystery or how great privilege is, that’s what I strongly feel he is intentionally doing. Because of this, he’s often going to be saying things that are flat out wrong.

One sentiment that people seem to have is that comedy is comedy and you shouldn’t take it seriously. That it’s unfair to find it at fault. That it’s okay to say anything, as long as it’s funny. (Jon Stewart hides behind this idea often in order to absolve himself of any responsibility for The Daily Show.) I’m pretty sure I disagree with this. While I believe it’s important to be able to mock and laugh at literally everything (not in a “defending our rights” kind of a way, but as a cathartic release), I also think that words matter. The implications of laughing at something are real. That said, I agree with like 99% of what CK says. I believe that the high level of, for lack of a better word, truth of much of what he’s saying to be another big reason for his success. I predict that there will be things he says that we will flat out disagree on. I fully expect you to bury me in these conversations. In my, and CK’s, defense, your thoughts on the issues you might bring up are going to be far more developed than my own. But I trust my instincts, and I might stand my ground on something despite not being able to articulate exactly why. But I am open to being wrong, as is CK. (The opening of the Season One episode of his series Louie titled “Poker/Divorce” speaks directly to this.)

The only time I can recall ever feeling a complete disconnect with what CK was saying, and I swear the analogy of this to you is a coincidence, was when he said something along the lines of, and I’m heavily paraphrasing here, “I don’t get how women can have sex with each other. It’s like pressing the openings of two buckets together. You’re not doing anything! It doesn’t make sense! It’s wrong.” I get extremely uncomfortable when I hear that, and I feel that it’s flat out wrong. Two vaginas sounds like a total party to me, even if there’s no dick in the room. But again, I refer you to my “Isn’t it crazy that I think that?” theory of his work. As a straight white male, I can almost understand how he could have that thought. I guess my problem with that bit is that he never blinks. He just says that lesbian sex makes no sense and moves on. (I later heard him rescind on this in a bit where he refers to the, to him, mysterious act of lesbian sex as “whatever wonderful thing those people do”.)

So I guess the biggest question raised by this is “Why?” Why define and parade around all these dark, often incorrect thoughts? I think the answer to that line of questioning is not an uncommon reason for much of the controversial material found in comedy. It’s to get it out there. To expose and address it. Comedy is a great way to broach a difficult subject. It softens the blow, and the entertainment value tricks people into listening. And I honestly think CK is making an impact on this front. I think he’s clearly labeling intolerant thought as being ludicrous, and making a strong case for tolerance being common sense. I mean, really, a big part of the biggest comic in America right now’s act is saying stuff like ”I never understood anger toward gay people, because a person being gay doesn’t affect your life… I can understand hating gay people if, say, like you’re mowing your lawn and two guys are blowing each other right on the grass.” Basically, I think this work exists so that you and I can sit down together and watch it and then talk about it. I’m free this weekend, let me know.

They should hand out medals to girls who smile like that. They should round them all up and hold a ceremony to thank them for their work toward improving the living conditions of all those around them. Every time I see this girl I want to call up whomever I’m having a fight with and tell them it’s okay, it doesn’t matter anymore. The crazy part is I think she’s totally genuine. She really is that happy to be interacting with whatever human specimen presents themselves to her. She should charge for it, like a therapist or a masseuse. Uh, hi. I’ll take a medium. No. No room.