Archive for category Family & Friends

Critical Review

So, Cathy and I were just chatting idly about blogging while wrapping up a few evening tasks in the office, and she expressed a rather negative opinion of my tone and style in this blog. After a few back-and-forths nailing down what exactly she objected to, she finally admitted this:

Cathy: “Your blog’s tone is black and cynical.”

Me: “What? WHAT!? Can I quote you on that? Cathy McDonald says ‘this blog is black and cynical.’”

Cathy: “That’s understated. Let’s be more accurate. Your blog is depressing and it makes me want to stick a pencil in my eye and swirl it around.”

Yes, those were her exact words:  “stick a pencil in my eye and swirl it around.”  I was flabbergasted… I mean, I know I tend to posture myself as a fatalist (more out of habit than actuality, I think) but I had no idea that my tone read that bad.

The real question that keeps coming to mind is… should I consider this a victory or a failure?

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Bad Philosophy

It has been an interesting week and a half.  I’m still coughing out the lingering cold that has been sucking marrow from my bones.  Last week a career opportunity beaned me out of left field and yesterday I gave notice to my friend and current employer, which was a good step for me pragmatically but not exactly what I would classify as a satisfying emotional experience (Poem, David, Nakey, Mason: I’m going to miss you).  The stock markets are a disaster area.  The federal budget is totally hosed.  Global warming seems intent on making Roland Emmerich look subtle.  Oh, and my house still feels a lot like a hotel: I have no idea where my clothes are, and I keep looking in the wrong places for dishes and the garbage bin.

My sister wrote a blog post today.  It’s title, fittingly enough, was “Fuck It.”  Her bitterness today makes my own look like the carefree ramblings of a gradeschooler ;-)

I have NO CONTROL over the bad things in the world, the shit that people do to each other, over cancer, and pollution and violence and that ASSHOLE DRIVING DOWN THE ROAD THAT DOESN’T USE HIS TURN SIGNAL…I only have control over how I react to to these things. (Emma Bush, http://emmabush.com/?p=946)

Strangely enough, this sounds a lot like the thesis I started writing for my final paper back at UW 8 years ago — the one I never finished, thus failing to achieve my all important diploma.  How droll.

Today, I went to my favorite beach — my place for walking in solitude, for contemplation, for stepping out of the world — and found that someone had tagged the shoulder with the phrase “Hello Coal.  G’bye Beach.”  Could my beach actually go away?  In any case, we’ll become strangers: I’m moving south this winter, with no plans for an immediate return.

Is the world ending?

Four Horseman, or Forty Bazillion?

The answer is yes, but not the way you’d think.  War, hatred, intolerance, stupidity, ignorance — these things are simply not the villainous forces that we have taken them for.  Do a google image search for the phrase “apocalypse” and take note of what you see.  Mushroom clouds, superheroes, zombies, and desolated cities — a lot of them.  No real people.  These notions of destruction are a distraction from the real force actively aging you, eroding you, and with almost imperceptible slowness destroying your world.  The truth is, most dramatic acts of distraction have the effect of stopping time, and slowing it down — keeping the real force of destruction at bay.  Organizational skills, indifference, distraction, and efficiency are the servants of the true destroyer.

Namely, Time.  An parade consisting of an infinite succession of horses.  Each horse signifies a moment passed, never to return.  Some of them will bring you gifts; some will carry your children to you.  One of them will nuzzle you insistently, and you will ride away with it.  They carry the world away, but no faster than they bring replacements for everything they take.  They destroy the world, and recreate it, one grain of sand at a time.

Eight years ago, I was philosophically distressed.  This sort of conception of the singularity of every life and every minute felt weighted, depressing.  I am thankful to have shaken free of this sort of fatalism, which did neither more nor the world any good whatsoever.  Instead, I am glad to be destroyed, to be part of the process.

If you live on the assumption that the world is constantly ending/ended/rebooting/starting again, that means that every day is new.  Slavery to the past, to history, to habit — these are all a misconception created by the illusion that you’re still living in the same world you lived in yesterday.  We are freer than we feel.

Embrace your freedom, and your time: appreciate every microcosm you can.

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Writing Soundtracks is Hard Work

Bad ComposerMy friend Michael asked me to take a stab at putting together some soundtrack music for a film he is working on (in fact, he just locked the script — which deserves enormous congratulations).  Being a basically foolish person, I agreed.

Here’s what I have so far:

Far Trader – Title Theme

I have a long to-do list for it: the tempo fluctuations need to feel more natural throughout; the flute can NOT vibrato like that, it’s just NOT natural!; and the synthesizer in the middle really just sounds kind of bad. But I am rather proud of the general shape of the confoun — err — composition. Another dozen hours of work should yield something almost bearable to listen to.

Remind me not to apply for Hans Zimmer’s job when he dies — may he live forever making beautiful soundtracks.  I think that his Time theme from Inception was actually a large part of the reason why I liked the movie.

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“All That Crap Down the Hillside”

I was sitting in the office this morning, minding my own business, when I accidentally eavesdropped on Cathy’s conversation with her daughter LaRae.  Specifically, my keen ears picked up Cathy referring to my ongoing landscaping project as “all that crap down the hillside.”  I discretely shouted “be silent, you crazy woman!” and was ignored according to our longstanding tradition of Cathy not paying any attention to me when I shout things at her from a distance.

I should step back for a moment and explain: one of the reasons Cathy and I bought our house is that, while it has a conventional front on Lynn Street, it came bundled with a long, skinny plot of land (almost a half acre) that descends down a steep embankment and into the Squalicum Creek basin.  It’s a very beautiful and very polluted little landscape — and one of the principal reasons why we chose this house of all the places we looked at in Bellingham, back when we were on the market, and before the real estate crash.  This green space in the middle of the city makes me feel cheerful about negative equity!

Three Cottonwood Trees in the Squalicum Creek Valley

Wild Cherries and a Wheelbarrow

Wild Cherries and a Wheelbarrow

Ralph, Supine

In any case, I have been undertaking a long term landscaping project which involves clearing and partially taming the hillside about halfway down to the valley floor.   It’s a very liminal space, not suburb, not wilderness, but somewhere in between.  It’s infested with bindweed (calling it morning “glory” makes me want to holler about the injustice of it all), himalayan blackberries, and ivy, crawling with millipedes and salamanders, and littered with mouldering woodwork and nails from home improvement projects that have been discarded for half a century.  I love it — it reminds me of growing up.  Furthermore, I have grand plans — a staircase descending down to the halfway mark, a fireplace, a patio.  BBQs in summer, music in the afternoons and projected movies in the evenings.  In spring, the smell of skunk cabbage blooming — in summer, cottonwoods flowering — in fall, the smell of maple leaves turning into soil.  A world apart.

In the interim, however, it is kind of nasty, and I don’t believe Cathy actually considers it part of our property.  I am still hoping to convince her that this is a worthwhile project…  not just a bunch of crap strewn down a hill in the woods.

 

McNielsen Homestead, Hillside Project

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Nuisances

(10:42:12 PM) Emma Bush: i decided NO to the surgery because the double vision thing is just a nusiance.

Further documentation that my sister is a certifiable, unrestrainable, grade-A, punch-first-and-ask-questions-later ass-kicker.  Yes, people — that’s MY sister.  So you better treat me right, or I will point her in your direction and tell her you kicked my cat or insulted one of my paintings, and she will do her thing.

Of course, she is totally crazy:

(10:48:35 PM) Emma Bush: so thankful.  that same punch split me open, can you imagine if she got to keep pounding me in that eye? what damage COULD have been done?
(10:48:37 PM) Emma Bush: lol
(10:48:46 PM) Emma Bush: that, is the definition of blessing in disguise
(10:48:49 PM) Kevin: shit
(10:49:03 PM) Kevin: there were two dozen people shouting for the ref to let the fight keep going
(10:49:10 PM) Emma Bush: ha!
(10:49:13 PM) Kevin: stupid blood sports
(10:49:23 PM) Emma Bush: i know, if they wouldn’t have stopped it, I would have kept going
(10:49:36 PM) Emma Bush: but honestly i was so relieved when they did because i couldn’t see a damn thing
(10:49:38 PM) Emma Bush: lol

So consider yourself warned.  My sister does NOT need her sense of vision to keep on kickin’ your butt.  And she’s still on my side for now ;-)