2.17: On Writing and the Self

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Looking at my office walls I can see that I’ve become a version of what I always thought a writer was as a kid. The walls are covered with pictures and cool framed passages of writing–some of it my own. There are magnetic strips in the places where I sit to collect my thoughts and there they are, collected in scribbled blacks and reds and blues on little yellow squares of paper or on the backs of things that weren’t meant for notes and suspended from the walls on colorful round magnets.

Here I sit, sipping on a sugary mess of coffee, wondering what if anything I have to say next. I came to this place last night. I was holding a beer (the remains of which I pushed aside to plant my coffee on the solitary coaster) and grading papers. There were tortilla chips and music in the background and the whole thing felt different. It lacked the reverence of the morning session and even that kindling of desire to be in the space producing something more. I don’t know what that means–if it means anything. Here is what I do know:

Louis Pasteur said (loosely translated), “Chance favors the prepared mind.” I believe he meant to express that inspiration and intuition are cultivated through practice and, ultimately, by creating the conditions that allow for such things to flourish. Lately I have been focused on learning what that preparation and those conditions look like for me. By that I mean the ‘me’ of the present. Often I feel like I am restricting myself by relying on–catering to even–the me of the past and the me that, then, I believed I would become. I can often fall into a set of idealized behaviors and beliefs based upon an outmoded value system. Or, to quote Doc Dre, ‘Trying to turn me back to the old me.”

But he’s dead. He’s a fixed part of history and the new me has new goals, patterns, beliefs, etc. The new me takes his coffee with less cream and drinks the occasional beer. The new me wants different things out of his writing and thinks in different ways. The new me loves differently.

So, if this is to have some warm ending message then I suppose it would be that the way you do things ought to be based on who you are. Not were.

 

Some Thoughts:

  1. Call. Coffee. Post. What comes next?

2.16: On Character and Ka

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Here is a truth: Game of Thrones matters because of the vast array of often compelling characters put in situations to respond to extreme violence and sexuality. In other words, it isn’t just the conditions that interrupted their lives (the plot) but the characters themselves and the programming that each of them are born into that codes their response to the obstacles placed in their path.

We are all set upon a path. It wide and roughhewn, pointing in every possible direction. The act of living creates obstacles that fall unto that path and trigger us into motion or drive us to end our own journey. The act of moving, or not is often called self-determinism. I don’t know that naming a thing here really matters. It gives it power, yes, and even a framework by which to discuss from a philosophical or psychological standpoint, but ultimately discussing the composition of our motivations isn’t what this is about.

It’s about the characters.

The beauty of a story is to recognize the soul of the indivdual(s) living in it and to root for them or to hate them or wish them harm or joy or pleasure or ka. In that way we become a sort of ka-tet with the characters. I’m using King’s terms here. We become linked with them–the well written ones–or we wear them like pants and live in their place in the story and thrill with the movements that are made as they are to our liking or they are not.

Characters populate worlds and words and for any writer to find their way back to the heart of story they must find their way back to character.

Some Thoughts:

  1. Everything in the Universe happens for a reason, even if that reason is the butt remainder of some great and distant equation. It remains within our power and ability to give ourselves reason beyond the hand that shaped us. This, I believe, is central to the idea of being conscious.
  2. A long time ago Stephen King tapped into something in that way that authors sometimes do–In the way that Game of Thrones did, but greater more fully and deeply and more connected to the idea of real and true people–the ones who are awake and the ones still asleep, drifting along the path of their perspective beams or adrift between them.

2.15: All Today’s Parties

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Call. Coffee. Post.

Last month I took a look at my responsibilities and was pleasantly surprised at how little was on my plate. Not that there were no tasks to be accomplished but how little I chose to make an active part of my life left a ton of time to just be. Turns out I needed just a bit more to do. More specifically, I needed–need a better way to use that downtime.

What I’m getting at is… I watch a lot of bad TV. I suppose I could make an argument for watching bad TV as a way to understand good story, but that is just arguing for the sake of covering things up. No, I watch trash. In fact, I stayed up till two in the morning last night watching Popstar and I know this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it. I could’ve been reading Beacon 23, one of the latest releases from Hugh Howey. In truth, I could’ve been doing my own Howey–creating maverick stories in my bedroom and releasing them into the world on my terms.

What I’m getting at is… The infinite nature of time is an illusion. It is also a comfort. I put off to tomorrow the important work of today because there is going to be a tomorrow where I can actually buckle down and work. This allows me to slough off the burden of today in order to ‘recharge’ for tomorrow.

What I’m getting at is… Tomorrow is illusory. Today is the last moment you are guaranteed for anything, so each day ought to be optimized to make the best use of it. Patience is good, but don’t wait forever. Don’t wait so long that you wake up old, fat, and sad having not accomplished a single thing.

What I’m getting at is… Today is a gift. unwrap it with the joy you had as a kid on your birthday or christmas or the first time you went to the park.

2.14: The Creative and the Created

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I’ve started to wonder if Minecraft is draining my creativity. I must admit there is some logic to the argument. The game is an act of creating. In the latest iteration I’ve created an underground city, a mock Wayne Manor complete with Batcave, and now I find myself walling off a small village into some type of keep. I haven’t decided what it will look like, but I know there will be a Batcave deep beneath the surface. This tells me two things: I still love batcaves (secret rooms of all sorts, in fact) and I’m pouring creative energy into things that are not writing.

This is not to say I am not writing. I penned the opening paragraph of a story just two days ago and then stopped. Lately it has been more of the stop and go and slow process of trying to get to the page and make things happen. I am taking outside advice and pulling back from the closed-in drama in my own life to try to reach outside of that and create a situation for myself that gives me the material from which to write. I am trying to do all that without looking like a creeper, which is hard when your entire goal is to observe people in their element and from those brief observations glean character and story.

So, maybe I am a bit of a creeper. What writer isn’t? I am no Stephen King—an admission that deeply pains me—but I do seek out terrifying and interesting characters to populate my imaginary worlds. Which brings us back to Minecraft.

The fact is Minecraft allows me to build structures and, to a lesser extent, worlds which are forged around the principal of discovering, enhancing, and exploiting what already exists and what was already created via randomized seed. Stories are populated by characters. Minecraft is populated by things. So, when I do craft I am feeding a version of the creative need, but I am not telling stories and I am not shaping identities. Still, I’ve long held to the Minecraft excuse. That means that it is a smokescreen for what is really going on.

While I am still uncertain of what that is exactly, I now recognize that it has to do with characters.

2.13: On Process

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I spent the better part of the last 48 hours thinking about and planning a lesson for this morning’s class on AI in science fiction. The lesson planning was more like lesson learning for me, as it allowed me to advance my own understanding of the no-longer fledgling field of research and the possibilities inherent therein. I suppose from a philosophical perspective the planning was my largest leap in understanding since I began reading Simulation & Simulacra after watching the Matrix all those years ago. I mean for my teaching to be reflective of my own learning process in a way and to ignite the process of others. Movies are meant to cause conversation and discussion and to promote more than entertainment.

One thought that continually stood out throughout the process of creation was the idea of process itself. For example, I have been on the path to ‘habitizing’ this process of how and when I write the blog (2.0) for 13 days now. It takes on average 66 days to form a habit and 21 to break one. I don’t believe I lasted the full 21 in my brief repose from the talisblog, but the formation of this new process should subsist for the entire timeframe. In fact I plan to make the number, 66, something of a goal of mine moving forward academically, personally, etc. 21 is likewise to be part of my process.

I am engaged in a number of transformative processes at this point in time. One is the breaking of my reformed soda habit. I’d like to quit entirely, but I like Jack and cokes and the occasional Red Bull, so the best I am willing to allow is a great moderation. 21 days from now we will see if I’ve broken the habit of simply reaching for a soda in the ‘soda fridge’. In truth, the best option there is to remove the stimulant and replace it with a better substance for me and my jazzed up boys.

In the end it all swirls back to the idea of process and the comfort and security of that. Each morning I wake up, say good morning to my love, go downstairs to prepare coffee and languish in the stages of that process. Then my coffee and I are here at the desk writing for the next ten minutes. That process–that familiarity is extremely grounding. If my kids are with me, they become a part of that process. However, they are not always here and will eventually grow and move on, so the core process remains love, coffee, and words. There is a simplicity and a wonder in that which warms my heart and lightens my soul.

Some Thoughts:

  1. A friend asked me if I was a jealous person. I said no. I don’t think I was lying, but I feel like the answer is incomplete. In matters of the heart I am jealous to a certain extent. That extent is less physical than emotional. I don’t understand how to share love. That continues to be a problem.
  2. I don’t believe my writing days are over. I don’t think the stories are gone from my mind or that my access to the stream has been revoked. I believe it is clogged the way a drain clogs from too much rough use. I know this because in moments, in flashes of shadow and movement I see stories.

2.12: In position for success

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So you wanna be a winner? Stop being a loser!

It was that sort of early life advice that had me realizing that the answers to personal success were not going to be found anywhere near my zip code. I grew up in Harlem, NY where success was defined on two levels. To most, success was staying out of jail and off the smack. My success in that regard was preordained. I lived in an area where the village very much strove to raise the child. If I stepped out of line anywhere in a ten block radius my mother would not only know about it but would be told in a cheerful way by someone who wanted to quickly remind her that her shit did indeed stink.

I was that shit.

The other level of success in Harlem felt way out of reach to just about everyone. Those who made it still walked among us, but it was clear that you reached that level of success by having a unique talent or coming from old money. If that talent was not readily apparent then you were tracked into a mundane existence. My mother wanted me to be a garbage man. The kid who lived across the street and played his drumsticks nonstop on the top of a bucket, he was told to shut up and learn a skill. They told him that everyday. But Larry had a unique talent and it took him somewhere.

We had a place around the corner called Striver’s Row. It was all fancy looking brownstones down one narrow street. These houses–and they were houses–had small backyards and nice cars cluttering the narrow street. These were the doctors and lawyers and folks who were in many ways Harlem royalty. These were the ones who had something and took it to the top.

I grew up next to all of this, noticing what it was like to see success but not be it. It hurt me a little, I suppose, because when I finally tasted success I rested on that for a long time and lost all momentum. Now, I’m in a spot where success is almost invisible in the rear view. I’m living off the dying glow of work I did years ago and there is no new kindling of the imagination to strike a match to. Changing that will take time and effort.

Some Thoughts:

  1. I think the primary problem between me and the rest of the world–especially the love of my life–is communication. Namely, I have trouble really hearing and understanding what people are saying. I often spend that time interpreting what I think is being said and not said. Unlearning is taking a while.
  2. I miss Obama. I miss the cool collectedness of the one time leader of the free world. He didn’t create problems. He fixed them.
  3. I missed the obvious 211 reference yesterday.

2.11: On Male Relationships

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Lately I’ve been searching for topics to write about. One that continues to swirl in my head is the idea of modern friendships. Ever since that stretch of bachelor party movies that started, probably in the 80’s, there has been the question in my mind of wha a friendship is supposed to look like. When I read novels that deal with friendship the topic is often treated with a lack of intimacy when it comes to male relationships as though the gender stereotypes supersede the ability to create interesting relationships. The same is generally true in real life. I have few male friends. Furthermore I have next to zero single male friends. This means the friendship dynamic there often involves a female who reinforces, in their particular way, the male stereotypes that put such limitations on male friendships.

I’m not really the go out for a beer kind of guy. I mean I’ll do it, and I’ll have a good time, but I don’t need an activity to create the necessity to hang out with a guy. My best male friend is like a brother to me and we call each other and talk about our lives and what is going on in them. I’m good with that type of bond. Lately I’ve been trying to recognize whether or not that singular situation is enough for me, or if I need more to be truly happy as a social creature.

I suspect the real answer to that lies in the idea of what I want to do with my time on this planet. Travel, see cool stuff, play video games. Notice I didn’t put ‘write’ there again. I guess I am still burnt out in that respect.

Some Thoughts:

  1. Loving someone often means putting yourself in a position to be hurt. When you love you open and you trust. Even the hurt then has value, because you learn what works and what doesn’t and you try.

2.10: The Spiderman Homecoming

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Welcome back to Marvel Studios, Spiderman. Of course, the studio rolled out the red carpet and gave the webbed one a warm and raucous welcome. Spiderman: Homecoming is in every possible way a double meaning. The film exists on two levels: 1) to reintroduce Spiderman as the high school ‘avenger’ and 2) to reintroduce the MCU to all of their possible titles. In fact, the central conceit of the movie is that it exists as a ‘We’re moving’ movie whose plot swirls around the fact that Tony Stark sold the Avengers tower to an unnamed entity. I wonder what group has a symbol that looks strikingly like the A in Avengers tower and has been looking for a cinematic home to do them justice?

That being hinted at wasn’t the whole ballgame here. The Spiderman movie works on a level that feels slightly above the mayhem of the Hell’s Kitchen gang, but still exists on a power level far below the world-breaking madness the Avengers deal with every film. In other words, Marvel nailed it.

If you look closely you’ll see a film that is layered with easter eggs and in in every possible way a reboot that removes the iconic versions of characters such as Flash and MJ, replacing them with racially different versions. This is a thing now, but it didn’t feel like so much of a thing that it was distracting. Instead the film ignored iconic love interests and focused on a more fun and nuanced approach to the high school life and interests of the Superhero.

If that isn’t enough, the last line of the movie is perfectly set up throughout and delivered in amazing hilarity. I laughed and clapped and people looked at me like, ‘wow, he really liked that.’

Well, I did.

2.9: A Political Rant about the Media

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I’m going to rant about so-called fake news here for a minute. In doing so, I’m going to give a shout out to BBC and BBC America. I cannot recognize your target audience and that is cool. That means that you are casting words to a large net and hoping to, at least in spirit, report in an unbiased fashion. I truly feel like other news outlets are quickly closing ranks and targeting specific political or demographic audiences with how they report and what they say. It is all politics and profit, of course. I’m not just talking about FOX news. I’m talking CNN as well as MSNBC–all of them are in this strange ‘not fight’ for viewers. By that I mean that they are not competing news networks. Each carves out its own niche and speaks directly to that audience with the news and ‘truth’ it feels it ought to report and will get the viewers to return. FOX has its pro-republican slant, CNN has its grounding in ‘liberalistic’ storytelling and globe hopping. I say ‘liberal’ in quotes because I don’t know what that means other than not republican. It is the basis of this binary exclusionism that is core to the American political process–us and not us. Defining the not-us as a catch all category is as important as gerrymandering to preserving the strength of the ‘us’.

Okay there, I ranted.

 

Some Thoughts:

  1. The hardest thing for me to accept is that I might not be right or might not be enough, which in turn means that I might wind up alone. I think that is my greatest fear. Not to die alone, because I have family and friends who will be around me. No, to live alone. I want to experience the world and explore and make connections globally. The act of doing that alone is a far different venture than the act of doing it with another person who you care about and want to be with every day of your life.

2.8: On the Anticipation of the Webbed Reincarnation

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I hate comics.

I used to love them. I used to be terribly enthralled in all of the storylines that moved my beloved heroes through the world. I used to think Marvel comics could do no wrong. I wondered aloud at the Uncanny X-men and the love triangle between Jean Grey, Cyclops, and Wolverine. I saw the icons of the label as characters who were largely untouchable and beautiful and capable of amazing stories.

That fell apart around the teenage years.

It happened most vividly as the 2d world of comics made it’s fiercest entry in to the realm of movies. As the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Earth-199999) was in the nascent idea stages, the comic universe was straight up falling apart. I believe 2006’s Civil War represents the peak of the comic landscape for that particular brand. This is where comics and politics blatantly interacted in a way the marvel universe in particular had never chosen to do. Unfortunately, the storytelling went completely off the rails by the end. It led to some good (World War Hulk) and some bad (the eventual retcon of Steve Rogers as a hydra lackey and ‘pass the shield’ philosophy that followed his ‘death’). It also sparked the modern MCU.

Meanwhile DC was on the rise. Crisis on Infinite Earths (1985) proved they had the infrastructure to reboot comics wholesale and in an effective way. Nevermind the Goku level superheroes and limited plot devices, these guys had writers and a collaborative nature that was bar none. Infinite Crisis and Flashpoint were incredibly directed stories that crossed through so many comics that I went legit broke. I discovered a fascination for many more heroes than I’d followed even in Marvel. I fell in love with the Bat family–namely Oracle and Tim Drake (Red Robin, World’s actual greatest detective) and then that all went to hell.

The wonder of Flashpoint led to the horror of New 52 where they changed everything… in the sing song way that Marvel changed everything to make more user-friendly characters. It is all bad now in both worlds. Red Robin is basically a cast off–one of a half dozen Robins walking the earth. The cool asian Batgirl is, well, not Batgirl as they retconned Oracle to be not crippled, ruining an incredible storyline. Marvel…. well, at this point there are more ‘spider people’ than I can count. You can catch at least six of them on the latest Disney Spiderman show…

Maybe that is it right there. I won’t blame Disney entirely, because Batman vs. Superman shows that everyone can get a hero story very wrong. Still, the storytelling I grew up loving has all but faded from this world. Logan payed homage to a lot of that. It serves as a reminder that there was a golden age of superheroes, but now the media and merchandising rule the day.