I won't be blogging for the next week, but instead will be finishing these half-finished books.
Bonfire of the Vanities: This is an excellent book because you can impose your own meaning onto it. Is it about race in New York? The unfairness of the criminal system? Or is it about the mid-life crisis of the 38-year old protagonist? Or about the dangers of infidelity? Or about the futility of pursuing status? I told a friend that being around New York hedge fund people at a party made me not regret checking out of the status game. He, in turn, recommended Bonfire. He was right. There's no way to win, and you will always be malcontent. Why play a rigged game?
I suppose the counter is that you cannot escape the status game. Even the boojis in Middle America need a new minivan when Bob Smith rides up in his new Dodge. Yet the status came can be escaped by not caring. Whenever I start to get riled up about something, I stop. I ask myself: "Why care?" Usually there is no good reason to care. My emotions boil due to some heating of the collective unconscious stew in my head. (I'll probably finish Jung, too.) Very few things are worth caring about.
And consider what we do care about. There's a hurricane in Puerto Rico. Everyone "cares," but do they? Are they writing checks or actually doing anything other than "caring"? If you're not going to do anything but play a Peeping Tom, why care at all?
This attitude can lead to apathy and inaction. If you stop caring about everything, then you'll have no motivation to do anything. The best strategy is to care, just not about most things. When an emotion is trigged, ask, "Why care?" If you can't find a good reason to care, dismiss the emotion and continue with more important business.
The Devil and Dr. Barnes: I read this after watching "The Art of the Steal," which is required watching in itself. Albert Barnes was a visionary who knew it. He brought Impressionistic art into the United States, and made it famous worldwide. While he was spreading the Gospel of a new art, critics rejected him and his "vulgar" paintings. He told them all to fuck off. Because of this, he's a "bad" man. What about the critics who, had they won, would have kept Impressionism from coming to American? The critics are the villains, yet they were polite - even though in reality they were passive-aggressive cunts. Thus the Great Man who brought Impressionism to America is the bad guy - possessed by the Devil. What a joke, and yet it's an American joke. We've gone from a nation of empire builders to go-along-get-along beta males. The joke will be on the rest of America soon enough.
The Imperfecionists: Life in a newspaper. It's not great, like Bonfire, but is still a very good look at human relationships - in the workplace and beyond.
The Devil and Sherlock Holmes: Tales of Murder, Madness, and Obsession: Best understood as a collection of excellent New Yorker style essays on crime and criminals. The introduction was a fascinating piece on the unsolved murder (or was it?) of a Sherlock Holmes fanatic. The piece on the Aryan Brotherhood was good, too.
Hitch-22: So far a disappointment, as Hitchens lacks reflection. His life story is interesting, but in an autobiography I expect existential musings. It's supposed to be narcissistic, self-involved, and reflective. Hitchens, for example, wanted to bang his mom - or at least that's how it seemed to me. Yet he never examined his own erotic feelings for his mother. Instead, he just kept talking about how beautiful she was and how everyone else must have wanted to bang her.
And while he is someone who takes pride in his looks and youth, he avoided talking about his transition into middle and old age. Surely this caused him psychological trauma. How did he feel when he could not longer score hot chicks using his looks and charm? Surely he has groupies even at 60, but it's not the same thing.
Incidentally, no guy has written a great piece on transitioning to middle and old age, yet every guy has sorrow in his eyes when noting his 40th and 50th birthdays. (Once you hit 60, the happiness research shows, you are "over it," and actually look forward to birthdays again - since it means you're alive.) Why not? Are men too afraid to write about it, or would other men be too afraid to buy it?
Probably the only type of man who'd write such a book is such a huge pussy that no one would find his transition from swinging dick alpha to whiny beta of interest. A.J. Jacobs is probably the kind of person who'd write a book on transitioning to middle age. His entire life has been one of supplication, and thus he has no transition to write of.
With men, we have emotions, and then we get over them. Whatever emotions we had when transitioning through life cycles are in the rear view mirror. What's to talk about? That was so yesterday?
Done right, it'd be a fun book. Fortunately, I'm still too young to write it. Time stops for no man, though, and aging is going to slam into me eventually. It'd be useful to learn from those who have actually aged. What would my 50-year old self say to my 30-year old self? They will never meet, but they are interdependent.
I've been thinking of aging as stewardship. I'm 32, but I am eventually going to be 42. I am thus only borrowing my body/self/soul on behalf of my 42, 52, and 62 year old selves. The choices I make today are going to impact them - although the "them" will eventually be "I." What would they want me to do? How would their interest conflict with my own interests?
Probably they'd all want to me to make some memories to nurture their old souls, and so I'm off.
See you next week.
P.S. The poem on growing old has been written:
evening class, 20 years later
the hungry tug of too late;
webs of needles,
the same trees are here;
and grass grown on grass
but the faces now are young
and as you walk across the campus thinking
"memory is a poor excuse for the present"
the legs want to let the body fall as
old images cling to you like mollusks
and the girls now gone who once
claimed your substance
hang like broken shades
across the windows of your mind;
—at one time here
everything was mine—
now young lions claim the territory
and look out casually
over loose paws
and decide
mercifully to let this poor game crawl by. he, of course,
no match for the young lionesses,
or the Spring in the early sky.
at one time here—
once—
I enter a room and stand against a wall
and hear my name read, and
no, it is not the same:
my old professor looked like a walrus
as he spit my name out
into the spittoon of the world
and I said, HERE! while
feeling the sun run down
thru the hair of my head
like wires feeding life into life:
white rain, sea wild;
but this new one whispers my name (and it is dark);
and like a claw reaching down into some pit of me,
surrounded by walls like tombs I answer meekly,
here, and he moves on to another name.
I am older than he
and certainly not as fortunate
as the lionesses curl at his feet and purr delightedly,
and one gray old cat
twists its neck
and asks me: have you been here before?
yes, yes, yes, yes
I have
been here
before.
1. The housing market continues to crumble. More sob stories about fucked boomers who can't sell. The real estate industry keeps pumping out happy bullshit. The republican and dems who defend the financial industry face angry crowds. The too big to fail bankers pass more laws to rig the system. A cash economy starts bypassing the banking system. This prompts tougher laws that turn average citizen into a criminal for not feeding the financial beast. The trust of the system that has marked the last century starts to wither. Anti-government extremism grows like crazy. This causes a corrosion of society unlike anything we've ever seen before.
2. The retail economy starts to crumble. Who needs a flat screen TV or new game system when you don't have job? Malls die even more than they are doing now. Large spaces of malls and big box stores are converted into government use buildings or demolished. Look for more flea markets in others. "Shop till you drop" seems as distant in time as "Remember the Maine."
3. The garage sale/Ebay economy takes off. Boomers sell off their stuff. Want a luxury car? A boat? A fancy furniture set? They can be yours if the price is right and you have a truck to haul it off. We have to much stuff. Who really needs anything new? Because this economy is off the books, so is enforcement. Disputes once settled in small claims court are settled with baseball bats. This actually is a plus for society. Scammers and petty criminals are killed off or have their bones broken. People aren't working to keep up with the Joneses anymore. A lot of the pressures of the granite counter/SUV culture are gone. As the boomers die off, their stupidity becomes even more apparent. They become a laughable footnote in history. Thanks for the music though!
4. Gas prices drop. Jobless people don't drive. People fearful for their jobs drive smaller cars. The SUV economy dies. It's used minivans now. People are forced live in denser areas. Fringes of the suburbs start to turn into weed-covered wastelands.
5. You have boomers who can't afford to move and Gen Yers who can't find jobs. They become roomies! You have kids living with their parents well into their 30s. Boomers forgets about those retirements to Tuscany. Fun times are had around the dinner table. Domestic violence between generations. Shut your pie-hole gramps or I'll beat you again with this HDMI cable!
6. Story after story of boomers dying due to lack of decent medical care. Can't afford your insulin or heart medicine? Tuff shit! Buh bye! Boomers who laughed at Obamacare are now all for massive government health care. Gen Xers and Yers join them. Too bad we spent the money for a public options on wars!
7. Wal-mart even takes a hit. They have to close stores in hard hit small towns, this kills small towns ever further. Whole parts of rural areas are abandoned like detroit.
8. Crime invades once rich suburbs. Crimes like drug dealing and meth production now become part of the lost middle class. Connor and Dakota are the new market for drug dealing thugs. Clueless boomer parents are suddenly dealing with drive bys and the rough end of all those "get tuff on crime" laws they voted for. Got meth in your house? It's not yours? Tuff shit! You're going to jail! Now you know what inner city blacks have been dealing with for years. Assume the position Milton!
9. The US military withers. Sorry folks! No tax money? No mean green war machine. Red states take it hardest. How's that "government off our backs" talk workin' for ya? Hypocrite republicans scramble to get their share of an ever shrinking amount of government pork.
10. The highway system starts breaking down in parts. Want to drive through the USA? You might have to go off road on to gravel roads. Some sections might become undrivable and cut off from the rest of the nation. I hope you have GPS and plenty of gas. Break down in the middle of nowhere? Meet the locals! Squeeeal like a pig!
11. Crumbling infrastructure kills large chunks of the retail economy further. Even grocery stores have trouble keep stock on the shelves. Want fresh milk? We're out! Go get your own cow. Local farms take up the slack. This actually creates jobs.
12. Colleges start to close because there is no one who believes a degree gets you anywhere anymore. Even the rich don't believe in colleges anymore. They hire private tutors. American learning goes backwards. Bluto from Animal House looks like a Rhodes scholar. At least he knew there was a Pearl Harbor and a World War II. Some kids can't even speak one language. They grunt and snarl like animals and watch TV thinking TV shows are real.
13. Cops and local groups of armed citizens go to war with each other. Interesting times in some HOA controlled neighborhoods become their own city states.
In the end, the United States degrades into several ungovernable sections. Civilization survives, but on a much more humble level. People rebuild, but the days of hyperconsumption and globalization are over.