Two posts in as many days. Rock on us! We're back, and this time to we're gonna keep it going, at-least until finals and other academic dribble takes over. But now I want to address the idea of blogging, and by extension my writing process. First let me say I do not consider myself a strong writer, and by no means do I enjoy writing. This maybe not be something you would expect a blogger to say, especially one who's posts ramble on with self-loving obliviousness to the readers, but hell, nobody reads this anyway. So I struggle and stumble over every word, revise and edit, and end up just as annoyed as I was to start. Consequently each post I write ends up getting written over the course of several days, and any possible sense of cohesion is in the trash next to the first three drafts, and several other concepts/ideas I could not seem to articulate and I wouldn't with myself, or this hijacked pseudonym. My Voodoo recap, I promise its coming soon, has been started on three separate occasions, and my current version is in a state of disrepair similar to parts New Orleans itself.
Part of my continual battle with these posts, comes from my uncertainty on how to approach blogging, my subjects, and the readers. I think my own writing style can be wordy, polluted with run-ons and asides. I find myself trying to balance a critical academic approach with youthful honesty and cerisma. Of course I would like to blend the two, and that would be the accurate representation of me, but too often I see the results as heavy handed its simplicity or stale and unoriginal. But enough of my whining.
So now you know, that despite literary handicap I am often trying to provide a new post that you will hopefully enjoy enough to read to the end. As for the laziness of my colleagues, well that rests squarely on their sub-six foot shoulders. They often tell me of their ability to run off several pages in a few hours time when class and their procrastination demand it, yet they appear unfit to complete a weekly, forget semi-daily, written exercise in creative opinionation or brainstorming for what will surely be a defining event in our lives.
Look for my Voodoo recap and destinations of interest in upcoming posts.
Showing posts with label pretentious philosphizing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pretentious philosphizing. Show all posts
29.1.08
Driving tunes: A post for the blog's sake
Since posting has more or less stopped I figured I'd post a something on the lighter side. I just drove back to school in Savannah, GA, and the 11+ hours spent in the car prompted me to write this post. What is the best music to drive to? I tend to listen to albums in their entirety, although I think this puts me in the minority. I know that crafting a good mixtape is an skill unto itself, however I have never really been able to sink my teeth into the process, and have left it in the hands of the artists. But I want to hear what people have to say on the subject. You can recommend single songs, albums, mixs, as well as what type of drive they would be suitable for. Be as specific (song, album, traffic conditions, length of drive, destination) or as broad (artist/genre) as you want. Here are some of my picks, in no particular order:
Will there you have it, a taste of my drives to school and back. Like I said these drives are done by myself, so I enjoy being able to select an album and listen to it from front back. I'd love to hear what other people listen to when in similar situations, or any other driving situation.
- Steve Reich - Music for Eighteen Musicians Steve Reich was one of the leading minimalist composers of the 1970's, and honestly this is the only work of his I have in my music library, or have really been exposed to, but I've wanted to get my hands on some of his other work for a while now and just never got around to I. I like driving to this album (the whole album is a single hour long track) when driving long distances. I tend to listen to Music… 5 or 6 hours into a day of driving. At this point in the drive I want music that is not going to demand my attention to be enjoyed and not put me to sleep. Reich's construction (and deconstruction) of a repeated theme, and all it's permutations, is certainly worthy of a focused headphone listen, but it can also serve as a beautiful backdrop while speeding down I-95.
- Kraftwerk - Electric Café & Daft Punk - Homework Two of my favorite electronic albums. The Kraftwerk album really gets me into the mind set of being a robot, which helps when driving for a while. The first three songs are very strong, you really feel their presence, but the final three tend to receeded in the spectrum of my wondering, long-drive mind, however they never fall off into background music. Homework is similar in this sense, it starts of bumping and then slows down, then it picks back up, however it never regains the enthusiasm it started with. In addition to being longer then Electric Café, most of its energy comes from fast tempo, pulsing rhythm, and flashy sample modulation, instead of a simpler more open, non-techno soundscape. Moderism vs Post-modernism, in my opinion.
- Tool - Lateralus This album is fucking amazing. I don't know how I discovered it, probably because of "Schism" but thank God, no thank Satan I did. Imagine King Crimson, taking black acid and listening to Sabbath, a beatutiful mix of heavey metal drums, Velvet feedback drones, and psychadelic conceptualism. The drums alone will keep you awake and driving. I highly recomend buying the physical CD, the album/booklet art makes for a great package.
- The Grateful Dead - American Beauty You know when people say, "Think of a happy place." For me, this album is that place. Accordingly, American Beauty, and most Dead is better during the day, its a nice complement to the sun. Personally, I enjoy the Dead's studio recordings to the numerous live sets available. It showcases their composition and musical talent, without slipping into self-indulgence or familiarity. "Ripple" to "Brokedown Palace" is phenomenal.
Will there you have it, a taste of my drives to school and back. Like I said these drives are done by myself, so I enjoy being able to select an album and listen to it from front back. I'd love to hear what other people listen to when in similar situations, or any other driving situation.
23.12.07
Happy Holidays
I would like to take a second to wish everyone happy holidays. For me this time of year is a chance to see relatives I see infrequently and since being in college it also allows me to spend a few days with my whole (my brother, sister, and I just finished wrestling and tickling each other in true pre-teen fashion). I never understood the common portrayal of Christmas family gatherings, or my favorite holiday Thanksgiving, as these disastrous implosions that cause everyone to dread their arrival. If the the Bluths three short seasons on Fox has any long lasting effect on our lives besides showcasing the talents of Jason Bateman, Will Arnett, and Michael Cera, it should be the corny line that was repeated till the shows end, "Family first." Seriously, suck it up for half a day, leave your ego at the door and just enjoy the company of family. This is why I've always loved Thanksgiving so much, it simplifies a holiday to exactly what it should be, a good meal with those you love. No, I don't want to spend everyday with my entire family, or even one day every week, but for those few hours its perfect. These are are people I've know my entire life, they know me for me (to some degree) and I can be relaxed and perfectly at ease with myself.
I hope many of you feel as I do and are looking forward to being around family and those that are special to you this holiday season. Myself, friends, and family wish everyone a safe, relaxing, and fun holiday season and an exciting new year.
I hope many of you feel as I do and are looking forward to being around family and those that are special to you this holiday season. Myself, friends, and family wish everyone a safe, relaxing, and fun holiday season and an exciting new year.
10.12.07
Reflections on New Orleans, Savannah, and Voodoo Fest
A few notes about Voodoo Fest and the south from Hoosier:
-People really like Jesus along the I-10 corrior between New Orleans and Jacksonville, and this is a bad thing when your car breaks down in Alabama at about seven a.m. on a Sunday morning because everyone is in church, even truckers (they have churches at truck stops)
-Rage rocked, as to be expected, but my two favorite acts were probably Tiesto (thanks, mep), and a jam band from Jacksonville named Mofro. Tiesto may not be to everyone's taste, as he's techno, although I would recommend at least giving him a try, but Mofro is a pretty good band and are especially worthwhile to see live
-When going to an all day concert, I would advise not driving thirteen hours through the night to get there. That is, unless, of course you enjoy not sleeping for 45 hours straight and falling asleep while standing up during the middle of Kings of Leon...and not being able to go out the one full night you have in New Orleans because someone, cough*Rock*cough, thinks it would be a good idea to just "lay down for like thirty minutes then head down to Bourbon Street." You never just lay down for thirty minutes after having been awake for 45 hours; you sleep for 12 hours straight.
-Savannah, if you have not been, is maybe my favorite city in the contiguous United State (I've been to every city on the eastern sea board, most of the mid-western ones, and LA). It's a beautiful, charming place that feels more like a big town than a city. It's worth visiting for a few days, and just walking. Check out the eerie cemetaries, sample the food, admire the architecture and the Spanish moss, sit for a while in one of the many city squares- just go to Savannah. Trust me on this, and don't let Pinks tell you otherwise.
Lastly, I want to write about New Orleans. I'm not quite sure how to go about it. I feel like me writing about New Orleans would be like me writing about someone I've met twice in my life: sure, I've met them, and I might have a broadly superficial view of who they are, what has shaped them, but for me to pretend, for even a moment, to know their character would be a gross miscalculation. That's how I feel about New Orleans. It would be unfair for me to write with any kind of certainty about a city I've spent a mere 44 hours in.
Still, I think it's something to address. Since Katrina, I've heard a similar refrain: New Orleans used to be a great American city, right up there with New York, San Francisco, etc. It used to be a town with a unique, a bit off kilter character. It was like no place you'd ever been or would be again. After Katrina, although it's never been overtly said, the implication has always been that, well, it's lost something. It's like that uncle a lot of people have, the one who was a lot of fun in his youth but hasn't been the same since the divorce and the dui, but no one wants to acknowledge the fact he's different.
Of course, something has been lost. A large portion of the population, mostly black, has not returned to the city they once called home. And what makes a place but the people who inhabit it? That said, by all accounts, New Orleans, and its citizens, have doggedly attempted to return to "normalcy" after Katrina...whatever that might be. It was this, then- the desire to see New Orleans with my own eyes, to walk through its streets, to sample the creole cuisine, smell the briny air- that drew me to this trip. I honestly had little to no desire to go to the concert; I just wanted to see New Orleans.
So what did I see? A lot, I suppose, although I'm not sure what to make of it. Downtown, the commercial sector and the French Quarter, the areas most tourists will see, is mostly rehabbed. There are still a few bordered up buildings downtown, but the French Quarter- by all accounts one of the least damaged areas in Katrina- looks as if nothing ever happened. It's a beautiful place, full of 18th Century, Spanish and Victorian themed architecture, and a whole lot of steel lace balconies. While Bourbon Street is the main draw, I recommend visiting during the afternoon, when the crowds are at a minimum, and walking through the entire neighborhood. A lot of the side streets are peaceful and languidly beautiful; there's a considerable amount of options for good food (try a Po Boy sandwich); and you might run into one of the many, surprisingly entertaining street artists (we spent a good twenty minutes watching a magician/comedian). While it's still a touristy experience, you get the sense it's more genuine than most.
Despite downtown's resurgence, considerable portions of the area are still damaged- and I say this without having spent much time outside of the downtown sector. The drive into New Orleans, on route 10, is sobering. Many of the neighborhoods along the highway are still in shambles: one story ranch homes are still gutted, roofs still have holes in them, windows are still boarded up. Some blocks seem rehabbed, and then out of nowhere, an entire house will just be a pile of rubble.
In the city proper, many of the poorer parishes are supposedly still severely dilapitated and damaged. Unfortunately, the three of us didn't spend much time on the outskirts of town. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but we chose to get drunk on Bourbon Street in the middle of the afternoon as opposed to driving through the lower Ninth Ward, or other poverty stricken parts of the city. The honest truth is, the thought of driving through the poorer parts of the city never even entered our minds.
That said, on our first morning in New Orleans, fresh off of our 13 hour drive from Savannah, we did drive through some of the poorer sections. Using a book called Road Food as our guide, we searched the city for a variety of restaurants. The first one we tried was in a neighborhood not terribly far from downtown, just under an overpass for Route 10. An old brick, steepled church marked the entrance to the area, and the street, even though it was nearly noon, was completely empty. Many of the homes were either boarded up or clearly uninhabited. Most still bore spray paint inscriptions from the immediate aftermath of the hurricane. The restauraunt we were looking for, sitting on a corner, had been described in the book as lively and always packed on weekday afteroons (it was a Friday). It was closed, and looked to have been that way for quite sometime. Disappointed, and considerably somber, we chose another restaurant, and drove a few minutes across town, past more boarded up homes, down streets that felt more suitable for ghost towns of the Wild West than a major American city. This restaurant, too, was closed. It had closed during Katrina, and had simply never reopened.
Our third choice worked out; not only was it open, but it was a thriving, upscale cafe a few blocks from the French Quarter. And, after this, our experiences limited to the downtown portion of the city, it was easy to forget we were in a city that, for so many, represented a home town lost. Saturday night, before beginning our long haul back to Savannah, the three of us went down to Bourbon Street, figuring it was an integral part of the New Orleans experience. It was overwhelming, to be honest, and not really in a good way. The street was jammed for blocks on end, drunk college kids, many in costume for halloween, pouring out of bars and strip clubs. In a lot of ways, its a cess pool of debauchery and young people looking to fuck, and not a whole lot more. I mean, sure, it was vibrant, and I saw a few pairs of boobs, and Ron Jeremy walking out of one strip club and into another, but I couldn't help but wonder if this is what New Orleans had become. Sure, it's always been known as a place for debauchery and partying, and that lack of depth and structure and consequences has a strong American appeal (see Las Vegas), but in a city where so many people lost their lives, and their homes, is it really ok for a bunch of kids- most of them not actually from New Orleans- to come and mindlessly get drunk? Is that part of the healing process? Is the ability to party, without heeding the incredible tragedy all around you, a part of moving forward? Or does it represent a certain callousness that I fear pervades our world these days, a me first selfishness that puts personal pleasure above public good?
I honestly don't know. I can't say what New Orleans was like before Katrina- I'll never be able to know how the city was then. Nor can I even begin to think I know what is healthy for it in the long, slow process of rebuilding. I don't want to espouse on the spirit of the city, or its people, because really, I'm not qualified to. Still, I can say that in a place many of us left for dead, most of its residents consciously decided to come back and rebuild, knowing full well that another hurricane, another ruin, might lurk just around the bend. That speaks to a basic human attribute: our incredible ability to suffer pain, and loss, and to keep living. That, or our incredible stupidity in the face of overwhelming empircal evidence. But I'm feeling romantic today, so I'll classify it as the former- we don't know how, or when, to give up, not just as Americans or citizens of New Orleans, but as humans. We persevere, and that's an admirable thing.
So I guess that's how I'll end. I will say this: do visit New Orleans. Even if it's only to get drunk and see boobs on Bourbon Street. But I would hope you would go for more than that. Go to experience an integral part of our country and our history. Go to help with the rehabilitation. Mostly, go to think, go to reflect, and go to admire the persistence that is our human mark on this world.
-People really like Jesus along the I-10 corrior between New Orleans and Jacksonville, and this is a bad thing when your car breaks down in Alabama at about seven a.m. on a Sunday morning because everyone is in church, even truckers (they have churches at truck stops)
-Rage rocked, as to be expected, but my two favorite acts were probably Tiesto (thanks, mep), and a jam band from Jacksonville named Mofro. Tiesto may not be to everyone's taste, as he's techno, although I would recommend at least giving him a try, but Mofro is a pretty good band and are especially worthwhile to see live
-When going to an all day concert, I would advise not driving thirteen hours through the night to get there. That is, unless, of course you enjoy not sleeping for 45 hours straight and falling asleep while standing up during the middle of Kings of Leon...and not being able to go out the one full night you have in New Orleans because someone, cough*Rock*cough, thinks it would be a good idea to just "lay down for like thirty minutes then head down to Bourbon Street." You never just lay down for thirty minutes after having been awake for 45 hours; you sleep for 12 hours straight.
-Savannah, if you have not been, is maybe my favorite city in the contiguous United State (I've been to every city on the eastern sea board, most of the mid-western ones, and LA). It's a beautiful, charming place that feels more like a big town than a city. It's worth visiting for a few days, and just walking. Check out the eerie cemetaries, sample the food, admire the architecture and the Spanish moss, sit for a while in one of the many city squares- just go to Savannah. Trust me on this, and don't let Pinks tell you otherwise.
Lastly, I want to write about New Orleans. I'm not quite sure how to go about it. I feel like me writing about New Orleans would be like me writing about someone I've met twice in my life: sure, I've met them, and I might have a broadly superficial view of who they are, what has shaped them, but for me to pretend, for even a moment, to know their character would be a gross miscalculation. That's how I feel about New Orleans. It would be unfair for me to write with any kind of certainty about a city I've spent a mere 44 hours in.
Still, I think it's something to address. Since Katrina, I've heard a similar refrain: New Orleans used to be a great American city, right up there with New York, San Francisco, etc. It used to be a town with a unique, a bit off kilter character. It was like no place you'd ever been or would be again. After Katrina, although it's never been overtly said, the implication has always been that, well, it's lost something. It's like that uncle a lot of people have, the one who was a lot of fun in his youth but hasn't been the same since the divorce and the dui, but no one wants to acknowledge the fact he's different.
Of course, something has been lost. A large portion of the population, mostly black, has not returned to the city they once called home. And what makes a place but the people who inhabit it? That said, by all accounts, New Orleans, and its citizens, have doggedly attempted to return to "normalcy" after Katrina...whatever that might be. It was this, then- the desire to see New Orleans with my own eyes, to walk through its streets, to sample the creole cuisine, smell the briny air- that drew me to this trip. I honestly had little to no desire to go to the concert; I just wanted to see New Orleans.
So what did I see? A lot, I suppose, although I'm not sure what to make of it. Downtown, the commercial sector and the French Quarter, the areas most tourists will see, is mostly rehabbed. There are still a few bordered up buildings downtown, but the French Quarter- by all accounts one of the least damaged areas in Katrina- looks as if nothing ever happened. It's a beautiful place, full of 18th Century, Spanish and Victorian themed architecture, and a whole lot of steel lace balconies. While Bourbon Street is the main draw, I recommend visiting during the afternoon, when the crowds are at a minimum, and walking through the entire neighborhood. A lot of the side streets are peaceful and languidly beautiful; there's a considerable amount of options for good food (try a Po Boy sandwich); and you might run into one of the many, surprisingly entertaining street artists (we spent a good twenty minutes watching a magician/comedian). While it's still a touristy experience, you get the sense it's more genuine than most.
Despite downtown's resurgence, considerable portions of the area are still damaged- and I say this without having spent much time outside of the downtown sector. The drive into New Orleans, on route 10, is sobering. Many of the neighborhoods along the highway are still in shambles: one story ranch homes are still gutted, roofs still have holes in them, windows are still boarded up. Some blocks seem rehabbed, and then out of nowhere, an entire house will just be a pile of rubble.
In the city proper, many of the poorer parishes are supposedly still severely dilapitated and damaged. Unfortunately, the three of us didn't spend much time on the outskirts of town. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but we chose to get drunk on Bourbon Street in the middle of the afternoon as opposed to driving through the lower Ninth Ward, or other poverty stricken parts of the city. The honest truth is, the thought of driving through the poorer parts of the city never even entered our minds.
That said, on our first morning in New Orleans, fresh off of our 13 hour drive from Savannah, we did drive through some of the poorer sections. Using a book called Road Food as our guide, we searched the city for a variety of restaurants. The first one we tried was in a neighborhood not terribly far from downtown, just under an overpass for Route 10. An old brick, steepled church marked the entrance to the area, and the street, even though it was nearly noon, was completely empty. Many of the homes were either boarded up or clearly uninhabited. Most still bore spray paint inscriptions from the immediate aftermath of the hurricane. The restauraunt we were looking for, sitting on a corner, had been described in the book as lively and always packed on weekday afteroons (it was a Friday). It was closed, and looked to have been that way for quite sometime. Disappointed, and considerably somber, we chose another restaurant, and drove a few minutes across town, past more boarded up homes, down streets that felt more suitable for ghost towns of the Wild West than a major American city. This restaurant, too, was closed. It had closed during Katrina, and had simply never reopened.
Our third choice worked out; not only was it open, but it was a thriving, upscale cafe a few blocks from the French Quarter. And, after this, our experiences limited to the downtown portion of the city, it was easy to forget we were in a city that, for so many, represented a home town lost. Saturday night, before beginning our long haul back to Savannah, the three of us went down to Bourbon Street, figuring it was an integral part of the New Orleans experience. It was overwhelming, to be honest, and not really in a good way. The street was jammed for blocks on end, drunk college kids, many in costume for halloween, pouring out of bars and strip clubs. In a lot of ways, its a cess pool of debauchery and young people looking to fuck, and not a whole lot more. I mean, sure, it was vibrant, and I saw a few pairs of boobs, and Ron Jeremy walking out of one strip club and into another, but I couldn't help but wonder if this is what New Orleans had become. Sure, it's always been known as a place for debauchery and partying, and that lack of depth and structure and consequences has a strong American appeal (see Las Vegas), but in a city where so many people lost their lives, and their homes, is it really ok for a bunch of kids- most of them not actually from New Orleans- to come and mindlessly get drunk? Is that part of the healing process? Is the ability to party, without heeding the incredible tragedy all around you, a part of moving forward? Or does it represent a certain callousness that I fear pervades our world these days, a me first selfishness that puts personal pleasure above public good?
I honestly don't know. I can't say what New Orleans was like before Katrina- I'll never be able to know how the city was then. Nor can I even begin to think I know what is healthy for it in the long, slow process of rebuilding. I don't want to espouse on the spirit of the city, or its people, because really, I'm not qualified to. Still, I can say that in a place many of us left for dead, most of its residents consciously decided to come back and rebuild, knowing full well that another hurricane, another ruin, might lurk just around the bend. That speaks to a basic human attribute: our incredible ability to suffer pain, and loss, and to keep living. That, or our incredible stupidity in the face of overwhelming empircal evidence. But I'm feeling romantic today, so I'll classify it as the former- we don't know how, or when, to give up, not just as Americans or citizens of New Orleans, but as humans. We persevere, and that's an admirable thing.
So I guess that's how I'll end. I will say this: do visit New Orleans. Even if it's only to get drunk and see boobs on Bourbon Street. But I would hope you would go for more than that. Go to experience an integral part of our country and our history. Go to help with the rehabilitation. Mostly, go to think, go to reflect, and go to admire the persistence that is our human mark on this world.
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