Mucho Media

In the midst of paging through a magazine simply because Beck was sitting on the cover (oddly enough, it was "Wired"), I found a little article about Pitchfork. It said something along the lines that while its actual readership is quite small, its influence as a tastemaker is quite high. Now, nothing about that seemed terribly revolutionary...in fact, all in all it seemed like a pretty crappy article.

But then something hit me...Pitchfork's readership is actually quite low. Wired did not include any actual statistics (part of the problem making it a shitty article overall). Now, how can something be a tastemaker with no real readers? Wouldn't this have been something Wired might have wanted to tackle (the answer is heavens no!). So I will do it for them...

There's a couple things at work here. One is that Pitchfork's role as tastemaker is more niche oriented. One of my professors, during the 2002 election when asked who would win the Minnesota Senate race, between Norm Coleman and Walter Mondale (who had replaced the sadly deceased Paul Wellstone) replied "Walter Mondale, no doubt." He was wrong, because he'd gotten all of his feeling for political sentiments in one spot. He said he'd been spending too much time on Huff Street (where the University, some coffee shops and your humble ZT resided) and not enough time on Mankato Avenue (where you can find a Wal-Mart, dilapitaded liquor stores and townie bars). There's a tendancy to think that things that affect your group of friends effects others more than they do. The fact is most people just listen to music on the radio. More people like Mariah Carrey than like Art Brut and the next Britney Spears album will outsell the next Broken Social Scene album...no matter what Pitchfork says.

Another factor that is exaggerating the effect of Pitchfork is that there's so many outlets just to talk about it. Think about it, hundreds of blogs to give an outlet for people to say "Pitchfork said this" and then everyone can bitch and moan about it. But that's not the whole story. There is no greater amplifier for media than other media. The Wired article was basicly media talking about media. This amplifies Pitchfork's name (if not it's impact). There's just so much media out there, that somewhere along the line, Pitchfork's going to get mentioned, and it will just build and build. It's like a million little speakers making little bits of noise. Eventually it's just going to get ridiculously loud.

However, Pitchfork has a lot of impact among people who are into music. And the effect goes beyond people who read it. I read Pitchfork on most days, but I don't personally know anyone else that does. However, I've discovered music through the sight. And one that has caught on with people who don't read Pitchfork among my friends is The Hold Steady. I never would have heard of them without Pitchfork probably...and none of my friends would have heard of them without me reading Pitchfork. And I'm sure this is what happens with all those little phenomenons that rise out of a good review.

Wired, if your looking for someone to make your articles actually informative...well, email me at ZTKrogman@gmail.com

Beatles-Bob Dylan and Red Sox-Brewers

This past week, Pitchfork did a feature on their Top 200 songs of the 1960s (top 20 can be found here). I always approach these things sort of competatively, hoping my favorites fare better than others. This, I imagine, is how many people read these things, given the vitriol that they can produce. Anyways, I'm still a bit giddy over the fact that Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" came in at #4, scoring higher than the highest Beatles song ("A Day in the Life" at #5). Sure, the Beatles probably did better overall, but the fact remains that the list says that the best Dylan song is better than the best Beatles song, even if it's only by one spot.

This is not to say I hate the Beatles. I love the Beatles. But Bob Dylan will always be greater in my mind. Of course, now that I have "Like a Rolling Stone" on repeat, I'm trying to wrap my head around why. And the answer, I think, has to do with another sort of vying for my affections type conflict in my life. That's the fact that I care about two baseball teams, the Boston Red Sox and the Milwaukee Brewers.

There's a part of me that feels a bit guilty about loving two baseball teams. Bill Simmons, columnist for ESPN.com wrote that there's nothing worse than being a sports polygamist. There's a bit of romance in living and dying with one team. It works for me in football, the only team I could ever care about is the Packers, to the point that I find watching non-Packer football games exceedingly boring. But I've been driven to sports polygamy in baseball by a couple factors...growing up with the Brewers, I endured a streak of ten years without a winning season. I've never seen them play a meaningful game aside from the 1992 season (when I was nine). Which is fine when your young and all you really care about is seeing grown men play baseball. But eventually I became hungry for more. I saw the fever of October baseball and I wanted it. The need became even more acute when I experienced the Packer's Super Bowl victory. I wanted that feeling while watching the sport I truly cared about.

I'd flirted with other teams before. Those Oakland A's teams of my early baseball loving days had me a bit. However, my first experience at an actual live baseball game was Brewers-A's game at old County Stadium (chosen partially because of my partiality towards Oakland). But when my dad asked me who I'd cheer for, I increduously replied, "The Brewers!" I couldn't abandon the team of Robin Yount, Paul Molitor, and Jim Gantner.

But then the Brewers sunk into a morass of suckitude...they parted ways with Molitor with the words, "He's just a DH now". Molitor was my favorite Brewer. I have a uber-cute picture of my sister and I with him. My sister once walked underneath a baricade (without ducking) and pulled on his shirt saying, "Mr. Molitor?" looking as cute as possible holding up various articles to be autographed. I'd challenge any ego-maniac superstar to charge for that autograph. So watching him hit a home run in the World Series for the Blue Jays made me sick inside. The words "Just a DH" became words of scorn on my lips. I still think the words Sal Bando (the GM who said that) and "fuck you" at the same time. I don't know if Bando is still working in baseball, but if he is, I hope it's in Single A ball. After Yount retired, I had trouble liking the Brewers.

So there was room in my heart for someone else. Somehow the Red Sox filled that void. Don't ask me how, it just did. Part of it was a fascination with the city of Boston. Part of it was the story. Over the years, they got some likable players like Nomar Garciaparra and Pedro Martinez. They had Fenway. Plus they were contenders at least once a decade. I think guilt at abandoning the Brewers led to an attraction to the tortured history. Maybe it was like getting revenge at a baseball team that had cheated me. I don't know...

What I do know is that when the moment of truth came a couple of years ago when the Red Sox came to Miller Park in 2003, I wore a Red Sox shirt. I cheered enthusiastically when the Red Sox made a big comeback against the Brewers inept bullpen. When the Red Sox won, I left with that post victory glow while sullen Brewers fans filed out thinking about another 90 or 100 loss season. And three of them were sitting next to me, my parents and my sister...

I realize now that what I really loved about the Red Sox was the story. And to me, it is one of the greatest stories of all time. I picture it being like reading Crime and Punishment in installments over the course of ten years. But at the time, it felt like I was a real Red Sox fan. I relished victories, I licked by wounds from dissappointment. And in the end, 2004 capped the story, with the ALCS being the climax, and the World Series a rapid denoument. Despite the fact that I can never really consider myself a true Red Sox fan, that 2004 October was one of the greatest moments in my life.

And then something else happened. The Brewers said they were sorry. The Seligs sold the team, and they actually started building something. In 2005, they went .500! And as for the Red Sox, the story sort of ended and I couldn't care as much anymore. Sure I still cheered for them, but the urgency wasn't there. I came back home after a long journey. And while the Brewers probably aren't playing in October this year, they are my team once again. I love them again.

And I always sort of did...because I grew up with the Brewers. Because I've never been to Boston, and it's culture is foriegn, while Milwaukee is not. Because the Brewers have a sausage race, their stadium is named after cheap beer, and Molitor is in the Hall of Fame as a Brewer. Because I hate the Cubs more than I could ever hate the Yankees. Because I'm from Wisconsin, and the Brewers aren't just a story to me...and I can only be so bitter for so long...

And this is the key to the Bob Dylan-Beatles feud. The analogy isn't perfect, Dylan never wronged me. But to me, Bob Dylan is part of my being, while the Beatles are just a fantastic story. I grew up with Bob Dylan. My mom once said that whenever she went to buy an album, most of the time she just got a Dylan album because she knew she'd like it. So along with Bruce Springsteen and the Who, Dylan is part of my musical DNA. I never really knew that I was listening to the Beatles until my parents got the White Album on CD. In fact, I still sometimes hear a song and realize, "Oh, that's the Beatles!"

But part of it is that Dylan is American. He's from Northern Minnesota. Highway 61 is a highway I've travelled innumerable times. Highway 61 is the sausage race (you can laugh at that sentence if you like...I just did). "Like A Rolling Stone" is Paul Molitor.

On a drive from Stevens Point to Winona with Ann once, I mentioned to Ann that I never really felt patriotic when I heard "The Star Spangled Banner". I never felt that being American was all that special, and that other countries weren't any better or worse than America. Ann thought that was incredibly sad. I realized though, that my sentiments weren't really true at all. But where I feel truly patriotic is in the arena of music and literature. I don't necessarily think that any of it better or worse than any other country's art. Just as I don't think any country is, at its core any better or worse than America. In fact, most of my favorite books are Russian...but American things are more important to me. And so when Bob Dylan beats out the Beatles, it puts a little hop in my step.

Ancient Greece

So a bit over a year ago I took a history class about ancient Greece. It was pretty sweet, but there was this one book we never got around to reading called The Naked Olympics. I just started reading it not too long ago. Now, I will hold off on a full review until I've finished the thing (which shouldn't take long...it's a quick read and clocks in at an echonomical 185 pages). And unlike much of my recent history reading, it's a bit more lighthearted than, say, the Holocaust or World War I. One side effect of the reading however, is that it's making me nostalgic for that ancient Greece class.

Now, other people in the class might wonder what there is to be nostalgic about. We had to read The Illiad in a week. No other class I've taken has had a more masochistic reading regimin. And while the reading wasn't always good (never, under any circumstances read The Theogony...good lord...) there were a few wonderful things about the class:

1) The Illiad and The Odysee - I liked The Illiad slightly better, but both are magnificent pieces of work. While the sheer size of it was daunting, there are plenty of rewards for taking the task. In addition, it led to a good weeklong period where I talked "Homer Style". For example: "For I went to the gas station, where I encountered Kathy, daughter of Meredith and Carl, who hath smote numerous loiterers and shoplifters with her gaze gleaned from the favors of Hades himself. I purchased Doritos with dollars greener than the pastures of Argos, and with my Nikes gleaming under the orb of Apollo, strolled leisurly home, opened my Doritos, and sacrificed the carpets bounty before indulging in a meal of cooler ranch."

There's nothing but fun in that. In addition, it gave rise to the term "Hector's driver" after the seemingly endless bodycount of unfortunate souls being asked by Hector to drive his chariot. Hector would never be hit by spears or arrows, the driver always got the brunt of the attack, "and the dark would swirl over his eyes". So that anytime someone is forced to do something that probably won't work out well, it can be said that they are, "Hector's driver". It's amazing to me that with all the stuff we get from Greek, no one had the sense of humor to make this a common phrase...I can't be the first person to start doing this, can I?

2) Euripedes - It baffled me in this class as to why Sophocles is so widely read, but I'd never heard of Euripedes until I took that class. I read two plays by Euripedes (The Bacchae and Medea) and found both to be infinately more interesting than anything I read by Sophocles. A thought that occurs to me is that at least those two plays by Euripedes primarily concern women, particularly CRAZY women (that capitalization there is warranted, by crazy I mean homicidal maniac) who kill men. Maybe scholars just don't like that sort of thing. Of course, Sophocles wrote Antigone which dealt with a woman...but she wasn't CRAZY...and her dilemma is just so immediate. Wow, look at me ramble...seriously though, pick up Euripedes, another nugget of gold found sifting through the masochistic reading assignments.

3) "That's Gay" - There's a few easy pleasures in life, and one is saying "that's gay" about something that is, in fact, very, very gay. There are about 458,000 opportunities to do this in an Ancient Greece class.

4) Seymore Byman moments - This was my last class with Dr. Seymore Byman. He was a great professor, a masochist, and an asshole. But he also was capable of creating some of the most akward/hilarious moments ever. Like Kanye West and Mike Myers times a thousand. He gets away with these things mostly because he's old and had tenure. Anyways, the most amazing moment like this came towards the beginning of the semester when one of the non-trads (she actually worked at the bookstore at Winona State, very nice lady) was asking some questions about the course. Now, at Winona State, you had to take classes that fulfilled certain "flags"...like the critial thinking flag or the writing flag or the oral flag. There were some other one's I think...they were stupid, in all honesty...as the classes that were supposed to fulfill certain flags had almost nothing to do with the flag they were fulfilling. Anyways, the Ancient Greece course was officially an "Oral Flag" course. Now, our wonderful non-trad bookseller was asking if the class was an oral flag, to which Dr. Byman responded, "I'd like to discuss an anal flag with you after class". I'm sure you can imagine how the classroom felt after that...

So these are the things I've gained, and I remember now that I'm reading about Greece again. Hmm...this post strikes me as slightly self indulgent...oh yeah, it's a blog...the whole damn thing is self indulgent.

Fear and Loathing on the Internet

I've read two articles, one a comment on the other that are quite interesting. The first, by Chuck Klosterman asks why there are no video game critics. You can read it here. The second is by Chris Dahlen and up on Pitchfork (full text here). It draws a similar conclusion, that the story of todays pop culture is primarily technological, and that no one knows how to write about it yet. Both seem to feel that the person who figures out how to do it (Klosterman seems to feel this might be impossible, while Dahlen is a bit more hopeful) will become the next Lester Bangs or Hunter S. Thompson, or at the very least, might a bit of money.

Dahlen focuses on Thompson, saying he had it easy, since his subject matter was drugs, a subject which is much more interesting than, say, podcasts. But drugs have another thing going for them in that we inherently understand that they affect perception much more noticeable ways than technology does. Therefore, writing a Fear and Loathing in the Blogosphere would be difficult unless someone can truly understand its effects on a person's personality.

Lured by thoughts of money and fame, I thought about how I could become this person. The first problem with this proposition is that I feel I'm about as entwined in the culture of technology as a weekend binge drinker is entwined in the drug culture. But then again, my last semester of school I existed in a state of hyperconnectivity. A high speed internet connection allowed me to read The New York Times, The Village Voice, The Economist, Pitchfork, and a host of other news and information sites daily. MP3 blogs allowed me to listen to music on the cheap. I have an iPod (which truth be told, is like a superpowerful walkman, but with status). I own a cell phone. I contribute to the global discourse with this blog, which has reached a few people.

Since then, however, I have retreated a bit from this state. Not to my pre-internet days of course, but still, I wonder if my life is really that different. In a sense, I'm like a prospect with tremendous upside, but I'm somehow not living up to expectations. I have all the physical skills to bat .300 in the major leagues, but for some reason or other, I'm hitting .220 in single A ball. I can reach a global audience, but I'm still doing what I'd probably be doing normally. Most of these ramblings would probably go in some journal that no one would see. I'd still listen to music and probably just use some other less perfect tool to find new music. I'd watch movies and like or dislike them, and tell just a few friends about it, rather than shout it into an abyss of millions who might stumble accross the soundwaves. In other words, same words, bigger megaphone.

But the fact remains, I can do all of these things better. And not just a little bit better, a lot better. And this must have an effect on the way I live. It would be very useful to have someone out there that can hit at exactly how it is affecting my life. Even better, it would be nice if I could hit on how it is affecting my life.

Here's how I differ with Dahlen about Hunter S. Thompson. Thompson wasn't writing about drugs. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is about drugs like Crime and Punishment is about murder. The book is subtitled A Savage Journey Into the Heart of the American Dream. Whether Thompson is obstensibly writing about a drug binge, a presidential campaign or a sporting event, he is really using them to reflect upon American culture. He does it with a savage bite, but with a reverence for the subject as well. The writing comes not from drugs, but from a mindset (perhaps informed by drugs).

Klosterman is more on point while not straying from the video game world as Dahlen does. He drives at the essential problem of video games. They are, simply speaking, a consumer good, and not art. They are games, and while they affect us more than other games, they are at their bare essense just like little wooden puzzles. There exists no idea in them, and they hold as much cultural significance as chess. Therefore, writing like a critic about video games is not possible. However, writing about the culture of video games is.

And in an essence, technology is the same way. Writing about it is like writing about a screwdriver. You can only expend so many words explaining how a screwdriver has changed construction techniques and how it changed society. But writing about the essense of a screwdriver is extremely difficult. I don't want to say impossible, but it's damn near.

But there are certain things that have that stamp of human essence in them, and those are forms of communication. We can critique only what we can talk. Therefore, actual criticism of a Gibson guitar will remain technical, but the critique of the sound someone makes with it can be a vital and interesting. Of course, to echo Dahlens and Klosterman, if someone can figure out the essense of a screwdriver, they will become quite famous. And perhaps they'll be discovered in the blogosphere...

Current Events

There appears to be quite a bit going on in the world these days. Well, there's always something going on in the world, we just seem to stop paying attention to the lingering things after awhile. There's simulaniously wonderful and awful things happening all over the place. But now, there's two open wars going on in the Middle East, neither of which, strictly speaking, had to happen. In other words, the United States could have just ignored Saddam Hussein and Israel could have just ignored Hezbollah and things would have gone on just about the same as they were. Of course, was anyone really happy with the status quo?

And that's the rub. War is the worst of all possible outcomes, but it can be a spectacular agent of change, either positive or negative. A few years back, I heard this statement which startled me quite a bit. I was struck not only by the simplicity of the statement, but the matter of fact cynical correctness it held. "People use violence because violence works". In other words, I could explain to you that I need money quickly and all the reasons I need your money for food and medicine and the horrible desperate situation I'm in. You might give me money out of kindness and pity, but more likely you'll just brush me aside. Of course, if I point a gun at your head, you'll probably comply. It's easy to forget that King George III wasn't bowled over by the ideals of the Declaration of Independence. We had to fight a war afterwards. It wasn't the ideals that gained us our independence, it was gunpowder. Which is a sad fact. In the end, all too often, might makes right rather than right makes right. Sometimes might stacks up in the correct corner, but unfortunately, there are times it doesn't. Which brings out the biggest problem of war. War is a big risk proposition, not always favoring the correct cause.

Since 9/11 though, there has been a rise in militaristic Americanism however. This is the coupling of a belief in American liberal ideals with a belief that America should flex its might to spread it's ideals. The problem with this is that might is a tricky thing to measure. Napoleon said, "God is on the side of the biggest battalions", but that was said when bigger battalions were a good measure of might. Our mission is not necessarily to protect ourselves anymore, but rather to remake the world in our image. In this sense, we've made our larger battalions smaller by increasing the goal. We are trying to use a hammer to do a screwdrivers job. Sure it might work, but it will be a destructive and difficult process. Unfortunately, the people in power only seem to see American strength in terms of military prowess, not in terms of overall might.

I will admit that I initially supported the Iraq war. Saddam Hussein is a horrible man, an enemy to American ideals, and a dangerous person in the region. He started two wars, carried out a policy of murder against the Kurds, and other attrocities. Which is why it is so difficult to be against this current war. I was frustrated with the then status quo which kept Hussein in check, but hurt his poplulation. But a military solution was not the correct one. It was one of impatience and ultimately has hurt America and Iraq more than it has helped. We tried to put in a screw with a hammer.

However, this stance should not be confused with a loss of faith in American activism. Rather it is a dismissal of the use of American militarism. Bill Clinton once said, "There is nothing wrong with America that can't be fixed with what's right with America." I would like to amend that slightly, and said that there is nothing wrong with the world that can't be fixed by what's right with the world. And there are few thing righter with the world than the United States of America. While recent actions have been questionable or wrongheaded, there have been throughout America's history, plenty of mistakes. But we can overcome them and return to our ideals. America can be a very powerful agent of change in the world. We can open up our universities to the world and give people everywhere some of the best education possible. We can open our borders to people who want to work here and make their lives better. We can use our knowlege to help fight disease and famine. We can use our resources to support people all over the world. But we must use our military might wisely, and with the international community in mind. I can think of no greater honor than to simply be a citizen of one of the greatest world power in the history of humanity.

There are things that must occur for us to change course, but first and foremost is to make sure that our government remains open. George W. Bush has remained too secretive and too arrogant to be a great American leader. We are an open society for a reason. So that the people and the other branches of the government can make a real judgement of our actions. I can think of no more immediate need for America than to elect truly great people into office who will take the responisibilities of being an AMERICAN leader on. That means holding the right of the average citizen to know and consent to their actions as the highest responsibility. That also means remembering John Winthrop's words about his Puritan community in Massachusettes that carry over to American in general, "For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us." When you go to the ballot box this fall, it would be nice if people put petty issues aside and instead voted based upon these considerations. It would be a new dawn for America, and would save it from the unfortunate direction we are heading currently.

Los Angelels, I'm Yours

Halfway on my walk to the library I started listening to some Jane’s Addiction. Since then, approximately 1.5% of my available brainpower dedicates itself to wanting to go to Los Angeles. I don’t recall ever wanting to visit LA before, nor have I, in fact, ever visited said locale. Nonetheless, during quiet moments (mostly while driving or staring at walls) I think about visiting there, what it would be like, what I would do there. Of course, I know little about LA. I’ve seen it on television shows and movies of course, but that gives me about as much of an idea of the place as, well, television and movies. I suppose Beijing gave me an indirect point of reference, as Dr. Yard, the leader of my travel group there, said, “It just looks like Los Angeles now.” To be fair, I doubt LA boast any “toilets” that are merely two boards over a large hole in the ground. Though I would give my Beijing experience only three stars (though I thing the sick day was less China’s fault and more the fault of Mongolia), I would certainly go back. For a better idea of how much I like Beijing, here is a quick rating of major cities I have spent time in:

1) Chicago, IL

2) Toronto, ON

3) Twin Cities, MN

4) Beijing, China

5) New Orleans, LA

6) Ulaan Bataar, Mongolia

7) St. Louis, MO

8) Houston, TX

9) Tampa/St. Petersburg, FL

10) Milwaukee, WI

11) Phoenix, AZ

If Los Angeles is in fact just like Beijing, it’s in line to be very high on that list, perhaps gaining points for the flush toilets, though possibly losing points for not being a thousand year old capital with things like the Great Wall of China and Tiananmen Square.

I know people that have been to LA, my dad and Ann. But my dad usually talks about cities from the point of view of a truck driver, and from a trucker’s point of view, the best a large city can hope for is the ever fantastic description “the traffic’s not as bad as ________.” Although I suspect his views of large cities have changed slightly now that he doesn’t have to navigate an eighteen wheeler through their streets (or maybe not, as he now deals with the poor souls that do have to…) As for Ann, she’s been there a couple of times to visit her friend, but all I’ve gathered from her is that her friend leads a fairly interesting life and that if Matt Leinardt hadn’t gotten a second chance to score against Notre Dame, people would probably have been murdered. I will also say this, when I mentioned to Ann my LA fixation, she seemed excited about the prospect not only of visiting there, but also of moving there. Of course, she also wants to live in Iowa, so that has to be taken with a grain of salt (ba-dum-bum! Easy joke, sorry. Actually, with all seriousness, I like Iowa a lot. Northeastern Iowa to Des Moines is actually some of the prettiest areas I’ve ever seen in the whole US of A.)

So, these five things I know about LA:

1) If you’re famous, or know a famous person, it’s easy to get laid.

2) The traffic is horrendous.

3)Ann’s friend lives there and lives a fairly exciting life.

4) Ann seems to like it there, and apparently, so does her friend.

5) They’re very much into USC football.

So three points in favor of LA (I think the famous should get as much sex as they like, it’s the way nature intended it), and two points against (I’m suspect of people who are a little too into college football. I picture someone who owns a Cadillac dealership in Alabama giving an Escalade to some eighteen year old offensive lineman prospect just because he said “Roll Tide”).

Of course, I could make lists like this for all kinds of cities I’ve never been to. The question for me is why LA? If there’s anything I’m pondering more than what LA is like, it’s why the hell do I want to go there? No one I know gives the place a ringing endorsement. The only song about Los Angeles I can think of off the top of my head is “Los Angeles I’m Yours” by the Decemberists which boasts the line “An ocean’s garbled vomit on the shore”. In fact, upon further reflection, Dr. Yard’s comment about Beijing being just like Los Angeles was really just a knock on Beijing if I remember his vocal intonation correctly. Theirs is nothing I’ve read or seen about LA that seems remotely appealing. But the fact remains, I really want to go there, and I’ve had about two dreams about visiting there in recent nights. All because I listened to Ritual de lo Habitual?

So yes, the whole thing seems rather silly, and it also gives me a bit of a chuckle as well…but then there’s part of me that’s dead serious about this LA thing. According to the book’s introduction, pretty much everyone is familiar with The Alchemist. Now in this book, there’s a boy that has a dream about the pyramids and figures out he has to go there to find his treasure. It’s his “Personal Legend”. When I read it, to be honest, I had really no idea what my personal legend was. But this whole LA thing has hit me over the head like a ton of bricks, and I’m starting to suspect more and more that it has something to do with what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. So I’m going to make a concerted effort to at the very least travel there…And that’s what’s new in ZT’s life.

Deadlines Approaching, Ambition Falling...

I have a disease involving reading too much Hunter S. Thompson and then firing off incoherent and slightly disturbing emails to old friends. The best way to avoid these sorts of things is to remain in touch with me regularly, otherwise you're liable to recieve a rambling email about the Brothers Karamazov. That or not inform me of email address changes, which is happening to me as people graduate from college. Blogging has been able to save my old friends a few unwelcome emails, but still, a bit of gonzo journalism and the right song will still send me in a keyboard clacking mania...

Yes, the right song makes me think of something I did in high school or my freshman year in college. Get's me thinking, "Hey, what is so and so doing now? I should tell him my exact feelings on this whole Iran-nuclear thing!" Then I read Hell's Angels and this seems like the only stand up thing to do. I usually do not recieve responses...which calls into question the "stand up" aspect of this activity.

I think I have a kindred spirit in Craig Finn of the Hold Steady, who I would imagine seems like the drunk dialing type. And my emails are written in an inebriated sort of state. My head full of a song that has my emotions going all flubba-flubba remembering some car drive. And in this state I write something like a strange mutation of the Good Doctor and Mr. Finn with all kinds of half truths, exagerations and manic excitement. Yes Mr. Finn, certain songs get so scratched into my soul.

What songs? Oh, what a ridiculously good segue into a list! Not forced one bit!

1) Radiohead - "Kid A": Not the album, the song...this has a connection with a road in Stevens Point, WI that has lots of woods and old Polish people living on it. I almost always took this road to a friend's house late at night. So it's inevitable that this song would make me think of this friend, and the paranoid, alien sound of the song pretty much ensures that the email will be of the rambling lunatic sort.

2) Wilco - "Jesus, ect" and "Ashes of American Flags": Wilco has always struck me as backward looking, trapped in the past. Therefore, it makes me wish I still talked to old friends. But not in the "hey, how are you doing" sort of manner, but in a meaningful way. Because Wilco is deep, man.

3) Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here": Oh my, how cliche is that one?

4) Eminem - "Way I Am": I used to listen to this before ultimate frisbee practices, where I met most of my old friends. Now there is no more dangerous combination than reminiscing about friends and ultimate frisbee. There once was a team I was involved in, and there's always the tug of the old comraderie from the team pulling me towards reconnecting with that feeling.

5) Green Day - "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)": Haha, just kidding...this isn't a long distance commercial...

Combine any of these songs and "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved", and something awful will arrive in your inbox. You've been warned...

Same Ghost Every Night

Saying “I don’t regret anything” is a horribly dishonest way of saying, “I’ve come to terms with things I’ve done.” The difference between the two phrases is light years apart, but people try to disguise the latter by saying the former without batting an eye. The only people who can truly say the former are psychopaths and the completely virtuous (who don’t exist). Regret wallows in negativity, and people don’t like to admit that they spend time regretting things. But it really isn’t such a bad thing, merely an unpleasant thing. It’s always warned against, people make vows of “no regrets”, or go through life changes proudly declaring they regret nothing anymore. Or, in the instance of a rather large mistake, only regret one thing about the whole thing. We are often told there’s no point regretting something because we cannot change what happened. Which is bullshit.

Regret is actually a pretty cool thing. For one, it keeps us from doing stupid things (“I’m going to regret this”). It exists as a teaching tool. But its biggest strength is that it keeps at us allowing us to remember all those bad times. I like regrets. I have plenty of them. I think about them a lot. They mostly come at night when I can’t fall asleep. There are so many paths I could have taken that would probably lead me somewhere else a little better than where I am right now. I dwell on mistakes I’ve made, analyzed them and wondered, “what if?”

This does not make me terribly unhappy. I’m a happy person. I like waking up in the morning. My most unpleasant feeling during a typical day is boredom. I’ve had hard times, and I regret them deeply. I think about them, and pangs of sadness visit me. This is a good thing. Warren Zevon said, “I’d rather feel bad than not feel anything at all.” How could I let myself forget the bad things I’ve done? How could I cheapen them by laughing about them? They were sad events and I should feel sad about them. If I let them go, then I won’t feel anything, and that would be infinitely worse than feeling bad about something.

What is important is coming to terms with regrets. Allowing them to exist, but not letting them keep you from continuing. But I will always have more respect for the person with regrets that haunt them to distraction than the person who ignores their existence. The second person is a liar, and worse, foists the lie onto others and brags about it. I have come to terms with my regrets, but only by letting them exist and letting them make me sad. Because you can never make yourself a better person if you don’t allow yourself to be sad.

Jumping Overboard With a Deranged Smile and Peace In My Heart

Talking last night with Ann, she had read my blog post on Born to Run, and ensuing comments and said something about wanting to comment that, "You guys are stupid, you don't know the artist, why the hell are you wasting time talking about this for, ect." She then mentioned that, "I have been a little crazy about the music." My initial thought was, "Then maybe you shouldn't have gotten me that iPod for Christmas," and then I thought, "I really don't like you right now."

But the point remains, I have in fact jumped off the deep end and am quite immersed in popular music. I talk about it a lot on this blog, more than any other subject. And in the end, yes, it is pretty dorky to know what my top 50 albums of all time are, as well as writing a long blog post about each of my top 10 albums. The whole thing is entirely ridiculous and pointless. The world will not stop spinning because I wrote something about Springsteen's lyrical directness, cancer will not be cured when I finally write about Odelay, and I'm sure many other more well adjusted people do not concern themselves with what separates Springsteen from similar songwriters. This point, I think, has been beaten to death by a variety of people, most of whom are a little too into a form of entertainment. Nary a sportswriter exists that has not stepped back a moment to point out the utter ridiculousness of the entire enterprise. Those among us who are sane realize that in the short term, this stuff doesn't matter.

But I contend that it does matter a lot more than we think. I know that art is important, sometimes more important that more serious endeavors. It represents culture more than any other endeavor. In my time at Winona State, I have taken two classes that taught history primarily through literature rather than historical texts. They were the two best classes I have taken here. One of the things I'm proudest of while here was a presentation I gave on the Great Depression told through the photography of Dorothea Lange and writing of John Steinbeck. In the telling of history, statistics and documentation are important, but art makes it alive and truly important. I could describe the desperation and the poverty that took place during the Great Depression, or I could show this picture:


In the end this picture, or The Grapes of Wrath will endure longer in the public consciousness than a chart detailing the number of Okies living in California year by year. While the latter gets at the hard facts of migration in the fallout of the Dust Bowl, the former has a more enduring appeal.

Art and entertainment is important for that very reason. It is a deeper explanation to future generations than any other document. And this is why we debate it, explain it, and think about it endlessly. Sure, some of us care about it a little more than others. Some of it is a guess, or a pleading for future generations to care about something as much as we do. So much falls by the wayside. How many people in this country have ever read Mikhail Lermontov's A Hero of Our Time? I wish more would, and I would hate to know that many years from now, no one will know that Lermontov existed, and he will be forgotten. So I talk about it and hope that others will read it and enjoy it.

Art and entertainment also have a way of getting at something inside us, but rarely in a direct way. The human condition is a difficult thing to get at, and art tries to, and we struggle to understand that. The good stuff sparks conversation. We want to understand how sounds or words or images can express something. So this is why these things are important to me. Why I check baseball scores everyday, why I update this blog mostly with musical happenings, why slog through a two hour movie and then express what I thought about it. Because I like to think that my opinion matters at least a little bit, and that someone is interested in hearing it.