The Gates

No, thankfully, this is not about Bill. It's Christo & Jeanne Claude in Central Park. They have decorated many large areas, but, I'm glad they saved their largest city project for NYC, their home, and mine.

When I left NY in '83, you couldn't walk in Central Park, you couldn't go to Times Square, the rivers and streets were filled with trash, the city was filthy and even walking around in broad daylight was gamey and felt risky. I'd spend a day in the city and feel buoyed by simply surviving it. Ford had told us to "drop dead", we were bankrupt. Bernard Getz was found not guilty after shooting four unarmed black men, by reason of self defense, that's how terrified New Yorkers were of the thugs and muggers who had free run of Koch's botches. We'd endured Son of Sam and the horrendous assasination of John Lennon in front of his home.

My folks and sister moved to Laguna Niguel at the same time I moved to Cupertino, so, for many many years, I never looked back. But, a big part of me has always missed my home. Artists are to NY what techies are to this area, not only is the actual art incomparable to any other part of this country, but, the populace is far more attuned to art and the art world. They are cultured. Not as cultured as they are in Europe, but far more cultured than we are out here.

So, watching these orange flags unfurl today, after 26 years, yes, makes me cry. I cry out of pride that my hometown has recovered into the beautiful city it should be. It's been bombed, decimated, flattened, it's suffered every problem and every insult imaginable. It's the original melting pot, and international symbol of freedom and enterprise. It's a, if not the, cultural capital of the world, art, fashion, publishing, the original home of music, and TV. And I cry out of missing my home, and all the art and culture and learning it afforded me.

I'm sorry I'll never get to see The Gates,(unless I bail on about 5 band practices this week) they're only there for 16 days, a longer life-span than most of Christo & Jeanne Claude's works. But, I've loved their temporary, organic process art for a very long time, almost as long as I've loved New York. And I'm very happy this project has finally come to fruition. Perhaps, like fine wine, it's the fuller for waiting. The art may be temporary but the love of art and NY is not.

A Day Without A Mexican Rap

What a title for a movie,
sure makes you think,
a day without a Mexican
surely would stink.

The film was funny,
the message is not.
These are great people.
We need them a lot.

One day they're all gone
was a selecting virus used?
It took all the "right" people.
Was our trust abused?

Makes you wonder about a virus,
came along in the eighties.
Reagan had been in there
and he loved some haters.

A virus was spread.
It killed all the "right" people.
Society changed.
We went right to the steeple.

We got Baker and Falwell,
a Religious Right.
Look at them now.
Their boy is in the White

So, check out this movie.
It's campy and cute.
And think about things,
next time you eat fruit.

The Prince Becomes a Man

Prince Charles is ready to marry Camilla. From all I can tell, he's loved her all his life. He never loved Diana, but, mommy told him he had to marry a virgin... got to keep that bloodline pure you know... couldn't take a chance, especially in pre-DNA proving days, that the young prince didn't spawn from the older.

Diana was physically examined before the marriage to make sure her hyman was intact. Charles was in his mid-thirties at the time, it was kind of hard to find virgins in 1980, pre-AIDS. So, he rationalized the whole thing as essentially giving her the "job" as Princess. He had no rapport with her. Camilla understood him, she was always his friend, his confidante.

I think when people are planning to have kids, they look for certain characteristics in a partner. When they're older, through the kid stuff, they know themselves better, they start to see that there's less life ahead than behind & they begin to want a true life partner, not a parenting partner.

So, I admire Charles for following his heart... finally.

Aha

Actual boring but empirical proof of what I've been saying all along. I found this study on Techdirt (via Boing Boing). You can see how hard it is to get data. The labels are very secretive about finances, for obvious reasons, so, to get data, extensive interviewing of artists is necessary.

The study makes an incorrect and damaging assumption, that more music is created than can be consumed, and that's why we need "gatekeepers" (labels, DJs etc.). I disagree. The pool of listeners outnumbers the pool of artists, probably a hundredfold, if not more. It's not about numbers. It's about the human inclination to listen to what their friends & coworkers & general public is listening to... the need to be "with it". And, some music is catchier, more commercial, more appealing to the masses.

But, that may very well be a phenomenon that grew out of pre-internet distribution models. Maybe kids now are more interested in finding their own treasures and turning on their friends. As the labels & mass retailers (not so fast, Wal-mart is now calling the tune for Three Doors Down's new album, at least in terms of due date) lose their hold on the kids and broadbanders, perhaps the trend will change. But, maybe not, drive across the country and it's no longer a quilt of mom & pop stores, it's all one big connect the dots of one Wal-mart to the next identical one in the next town down the road.

While the internet does encourage individuality, our love of low-priced crap has kept us quite homogenous. But, even Wal-mart can't compete with free, and their willingness to loss lead albums to sell electronics will probably expire in a few years. The market for album-buying will contract into a niche market for audiophiles and collectors.

Music consumption is still a hugely expandable number. And music consumption has increased exponentially since Napster, with a billion tracks a month being downloaded. Brits consume ten times more paid, recorded music than we do, and they also support their musicians during lean times, allowing them to continue as artists. The framework shown here, where 10% of artists earn 90% of all money spent on music, leaving the other 90% of artists to share the remaining 10%, is undoubtedly even more extreme in the US.

I think ultimately, the only pay point that will work is to take it from the ISP's who, at this point, are the only ones to profit from all the free downloading. The free music is what sells their service, in large part, and that money should be coughed up to Big Champagne, or an equivalent, to be distributed directly to the artists on the basis of what's being downloaded.

Ray

Again, a very aptly entitled man and movie (that's why I didn't twist the name in the title). The blind guy is a ray of light. Talk about your inner direction. I guess that's what it takes to be a ray of light in this world. I could pretty much end the post there, cause, that's it. But, the man had an incredible life and career and I'd love to comment on it. The film gave me an appreciation for his music I never had before.

Ray's music has been around for a long time. He predates rock music, not that I've ever considered him a rock musician, or would even put him in any one category. Like Alicia Keys, he pulls from many different pools. We'll never see anyone cross so many lines again.

I mean, really, a black country singer? He was equally comfortable with the blues,soul, R&B, gospel, rock & roll. Bridging gospel with "the devil's music" was sacrilegious in those days, and he had the courage to do it anyway. He had an amazing, emotional voice, equally comfortable with deep resonance and falsetto clips. I guess when you're a complete original, marching to your own drum, it extends your range. He fought against being trapped into boxes, musically or otherwise. No one told Ray what to do, that's for sure.

Moreover, the man beat heroin cold turkey and never looked back. He was blind but he promised his mom he would never be a victim. So, he focused on his talent and brought it to great heights. At the end of the film his mom returns to him in withdrawals delirium to point out that he is a victim, of addiction, and his drive toward freedom propels him out of it. He was one strong guy, used to walk around NYC, any town, alone, with no cane. Never a victim.

The film clearly illustrates Ray's lack of sight leading to an enhanced sense of hearing. But the blindness probably also contributed to his "sense of god", if there is such a thing. Or whatever you call that inner voice. Artists, essentially, are paid to listen to that voice, unlike so many of us. And Ray did listen, even though many voices are constantly coming at famous, important people. Through the voices of money loving managers & everyone else, Ray backed out of playing before Jim Crow segregated audiences... at the last minute.. but, he did it, at great financial cost, and Ray was an astute businessman. Heroin or no, he was sharp and kept his fortune, donating over $20M to charity in his lifetime.

The man had his demons. He was no angel, he certainly enjoyed not only the access to drugs his fame offered, but the access to sex. His wife basically accepted it and they had a long stable marriage. He had a lot of hard breaks, a lot of sadness, a lot of challenges. It's his overcoming of them that makes his life interesting to watch. Anyone want to watch the movie of W's life... now Bushie gets his silver spoon... here's his first oilwell... here he is in his Skull & Bones hat, here's Daddy's friends giving him money, here he is sending boys & girls to die, here is walking to "Hail to the Chief". What struggle did the man ever overcome, what demons did he face, what inner tune does he listen to? I'll take Ray any day...heroin addiction, womanizing and all.

I know lots of people who seemed to come from basically "good" upbringings. They all think they're great and seem to have no conception that anyone else could think otherwise. They're almost all boring and they have very little empathy or sensitivity... or even awareness. Most of them also have very little going on internally/spiritually. They're PC (politically correct), but you can tell when that's all it is.

I know others from more challenging beginnings and I tend to have so much more respect for these folks. They, almost to a person, have more depth and compassion. One of the reasons I turned to god early on is because there was pain there. I started developing that relationship (with god) early in life. If your childhood is just hunky dory Palo Alto perfect....well, at least now I don't have to worry about my own. This divorce stuff has definitely caused them to grow up a bit too soon, but, there's a lot to be said for having to deal with pain, and emotion, early in life. It builds skill, the skill of dealing with pain. It's something we all have to do sometime in life. I am definitely NOT recommending pain for kids, cause it can also make it very hard for them to achieve & focus. But, I think a certain amount of challenge, early in life, can "build character".

Anyway, Ray, a dirt poor illegitimate southerner, dealt with major pain, losing a brother at age five. He suffered guilt all his life for having stood there watching, frozen, as his brother drowned in a bucket. He lost his sight nine months later. Without that pain though, would he have that depth in his voice? Would his music and life speak to us the same way? Britney Spears has led a charmed little life. What does her "art" say to you.... what can it say to you ever? She wants to be like Madonna, but Madonna lost her mother early in life and her father put her in some harsh Catholic trip. She overcame all the indoctrination to own her own sexuality and her own artistic identity as a scrappy, optimistic, driven dreamer.

Unlike Britney, Ray was far more than a great performer. He was an artist and an inspiration. He will be missed and I look forward to seeing him honored at the Grammy's (I believe it's Norah Jones & Elton!) and at the Oscars.

Vanity Fair

Thackeray's classic slice of mid-nineteenth century English life, which was, at the time, flush with the color of its colonies in India & China has been beautifully fleshed out by one of the few females entrusted with a major studio film. The producers, star & most of the crew were also female. I'm not aware of another film of this size so predominantly female.

So, of course the film's about Vanity, right? Interestingly, the dictionary defines vanity primarily in terms of uselessness, as opposed to self-absorption. From what I understand, the vanity examined in the story is that of the times, at least as much as the protagonist, Becky Sharpe.

She lives in interesting, colorful times and rises from nothing to a life filled with interest, excitement and comparative wealth. I guess some interpret her strictly as a social climber, interested in nothing more than money. I see her as someone guided by a strong will and inner direction that propels her forward and those around her are drawn to that. Maybe I'm coloring her with my own brush here but I see her as motivated by a desire to enjoy her life experience, not a desire for stature.

I think people interested in stature make very different choices, they choose their friends on the basis of the type of connections provided, rather than how interesting they are. They choose stuff on the basis of what it says to others as opposed to what it actually looks & feels like. The vain may make empty choices, but not in vain, they are filled with purpose. The purpose is to get to that next rung on the social ladder.

Apparently, Becky Sharpe was the inspiration for one of my favorite literary characters, Scarlett O'Hara, another feisty girl with, as they say, "pluck". I read Gone With the Wind as a young woman, long before seeing the film, and was impressed with Scarlett's passion, determination, originality, loyalty & honesty. I saw the film recently and this time was struck by the vanity of Scarlett. Not her conceit, which is probably more of a well-deserved confidence anyway, but the vanity of her love for Ashley (as in "loved in vain").

She loved him fully, honestly and passionately, never wavering, her whole life, even though she was attractive to almost every other man but him. He seems so strong and fine to her and she can't, for the life of her, understand what he sees in the milquetoast cousin he's been arranged to marry. She attributes it to duty for decades, only to find out, at the end, that although he admires Scarlett's strength, he sure as hell doesn't share it.

That's a lot of time and energy and love to waste, and served as a bit of a wake-up call for me. In the end, maybe Scarlett was undone by the very loyalty and inner direction, I, and others, find so appealing. After all, Ashley rejected her a number of times. But, it was like she just wouldn't hear it, couldn't believe it, too attuned to her own voice, which was attracted to him. Lesson: Listen!.. especially when people tell you who they are.

Maybe she just couldn't comprehend why someone she perceived as so dynamic would be attracted to someone so passive. And, that combo has always mystified me, even though I've actually spent far more time than I should have in a relationship with a passive man. In my case, I had a really in your face mother and I guess I felt life would be a lot easier with someone with a mellower style. But, in the end, I respect inner strength, and when you really get to know someone, you start to distinguish what's real strength and what's adherence to outer rules or religious phrasing.

So, yes, I admire and relate to Becky and Scarlett. I think one of the DVD commentators summed it up best, saying something to the effect of, there are mavericks and adventurers in every society who figure out how to sort of ride the wave and make the society work for them. Social surfers....not social climbers. The climbers get to their little peak, which is lonely (it's lonely at the top). The surfers are far more connected to the wave, they ride it out, not getting overtaken but not directing either. You can't direct the wave, just enjoy the ride.

Sell You Are

Cellular is a good example of movie much enhanced by its DVD. It's a thriller, not a particularly good one... sort of a single lane plot like Speed. It doesn't even rise to the level of psychological thriller, which at least indicates some mental activity by someone in the film.

But, one of the bonus features went into this whole concept of what the cellular phone is doing to our society. It's been around a while now and I guess I never gave it that much thought because I keep the phone very much at bay in my own life. I'm sure this will clarify a lot for many of you who haven't already figured that out.

But, I do notice more and more people mindlessly blathering on cell phones while in public, restaurants, stores... almost no place is safe, even airlines are now talking about allowing them en route. They already are on board, just at those jacked up rates, but those phones came in pretty handy for those on hijacked flights on 9/11.

There's a huge trade off. We're never going back to the past. Those phones have saved many lives. But, a generation of kids is growing up with a very limited sense of privacy or downtime, and that's a shame. With VoIP, we'll be constantly at the umbilical line off some cell. It will be up to each of us to create our own limits.

Marshall McLuhan called the phone a hot medium, and it's becoming less so. Hot means condensed, your cues are all coming into your ears. I guess that's why I avoid it. I really like to see the facial expressions & body language to get a read on someone. I was a communications major in college, the first one my school ever had and we learned about meta-language... all the communication that goes on besides the actual words. The words themselves are like 2% of the total message

So, now we have cells everywhere, phones omnipresent, yet the more conversation takes place, the less is actually said. A guy on the DVD gave an example of a woman (always a woman, right?) who was actually narrating a walk down the street, "now I'm in the bank, now I'm in the deli", fascinating stuff huh? Don't you wish you were the lucky hubby on the other end of that call?

In the film, the lovely and spirited Kim Basinger has been kidnapped by crooked cops looking for hubby's tape of their killing fun. She gets some hottie on his cell & he proceeds to do every maneuver taught in stunt driving school all over LA. I would have glossed right over this angle had it not been for the highly informative bonus feature on the real life scandal in LA Ramparts Division which ultimately resulted in the conviction of many detectives.

These guys practice justice on the roughest gang terrain around and they live by their own set of rules. They mete out justice with almost no oversight from the community or LAPD, which parsed them out to their own little fiefdom. They were selling mucho drugs on the street and pocketing the cash, lots of it. The killed and framed at will.

This is the background of Mark Furman, OJ framer. As OJ said, "You can believe they framed a guilty man or an innocent man, one or the other". I believe they framed a guilty man, the guy should have fried. But, that's what happens when you have a city with out of control cops who get videotaped beating a black guy and then get cleared by Simi Valley socialites... fear of payback.

The shmucky Brentwood cops got overruled by LA who wanted the trial to be brought downtown to avoid another nasty riot. Bowing to social pressure they ended up with a predominantly black jury, who, as we found out so clearly, after the trial, live in a very different world from white Americans, and know all to well that yes, dozens of police will lie.

It's a code cultivated the same way in fraternities, businesses, PTA, partnerships, social clubs in Stepford, Survivor Island, DC.... if you want in, you say the right things to the right people, you play the game and you play it well and you get in on the special group that has all the nicest homes and coolest jokes and handshakes. And once you're in, that's your family, your homies... you don't turn on your own, right? The end justifies the means, right?