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Tomorrow morning is the best day of the year. Everyone in the United States, except for the fine people of Arizona and Hawaii, are awarded an extra hour of sleep with the end of Daylight Savings Time. And that is really just the best thing ever.
Kory and Amy came over for dinner last night. Kory made a comment that my blog is becoming increasingly more disenchanting. I admit, I am increasingly more disenchanted with the world around me myself. It's like the whole failed potential thing. Amy's seeing it right now in her hotel job. I've seen it in many of my crappy service jobs (the drive-in, the movie theater, the porn store, etc.), but I also see it in the world. There's so much unused potential out there, and there's so little any of us could do about it. The world could, with a little work, be an amazing place. But people are lazy and greedy, so that won't ever happen. And that's disenchanting, which I guess comes out in my writing.
Now, don't get me wrong -- no matter how shitty the world gets, and how disappointing it becomes, I plan to carve out my little space and do my thing. I also plan to work on making it a better place through the typical things like random acts of kindness, etc. It's all I can do. And for nothing else, I'm going to continue to observe the world as it inevitably goes to shit as if I was watching a fast-motion security camera video of a hot day with broken A/C at Madame Tussaud's.
I guess the point is, no matter how bad it gets, I'll still be here and I'll still be doing something. And if I'm not, I won't know any better anyway. With that attitude, the disenchanting world becomes nothing more than a setting, a decor or a background for the life I'll lead. Even my view on disenchantment is disenchanting. It's a time like this that I should go to my dark wood-paneled study and consider the world in my captain's chair with brandy-on-the-rocks and a cigar. If I had a wood-paneled study, a captain's chair, if I drank (I don't anymore, though I don't remember mentioning that...), and if I was in the mood for a cigar.
Meh.
In doing some appropriate musical listening this week during a mental health downswing, I began to wonder how in the world two of the best albums of this decade were Johnny Cash albums (American III and American IV, which are both brilliant and worthy of your listen). Then, I began to wonder what we should call this decade. It's odd that we're six years into the decade and there's no consensus.
I remember in the 1980s (Back to the Future!) it seemed to be the consensus that after the turn into the 2000s, everything would be called like "twenty-ten" or "twenty-twentyfive). And that sounded okay, I suppose. It worked in the 1900s when every year was "nineteen-ninetyfive" and it should work now. Except for this first decade of the bunch, where there's the awkward zerio. Would it be "twenty-oh-five," then? Obviously that didn't work, because we called it "two-thousand-five." Under the logic with which we named the 1990-99 decade the "nineteen-nineties," wouldn't the 2000-2009 decade be the "two-thousands?" That doesn't work, because the "two-thousands" would apply to the entire century (2000-2099) like the "nineteen-hundreds" does to the 1900-1999 period.
I think I read somewhere that a growing trend is to call this decade the "oughties." I've heard really old people call years the 1900-1909 decade "nineteen-ought-six," but I'm pretty sure that anyone who used this method is long dead. I've certainly not heard anyone do it for a number of years, and certainly not the younger generation who will (for some god-forsaken reason) look back at this decade is an uber-romanticized way. But, the "oughties" has a ring to it, and it rhymes with the "nineties" and such. Can something be so forced, and so fake? I mean, I know that the other decades were just as fabricated of temporal identities, but people took on to calling the decades by those monikers on their own and even before the decades began. Wouldn't the "oughties" be a cop-out by comparison, something shoved down our throat as a convenient nickname (a la "why-two-kay" or "nine-eleven", or even "The Q" for the old Gund Arena in Cleveland) so that they media can shorten the soundbites even further?
And of course, you can call the decade the "Naughty Oughties" which will certainly thrill soft-core pornographers, the religious right, abortion-clinic bombers, New Years Eve-only sluts, preachers, sex stores, stupid talking heads on Fox and other jerkoffs?
Of course, this brings us back to a conversation with Kory... it seems as though our generation and those just younger than us are growing up in a time when there is no shame. I mean, think about it. In our lives, the amount of "shock" entertainment grew considerably in quantity and vulgarity. There have been popular music songs about killing women and children, about aborting fetuses and eating them, about eating turds, about vomiting during sex, about how lap dances are so better when the stripper is crying (do-do-do-do-do-dodo, do-do). Every home with the internet has instant access to thousands of sites containing child porn, critter porn, old person porn, and any oddball crazy political belief in the world. The shock is gone.
But does that really affect kids? Maybe, maybe not. Then again, tonight was the annual Halloween craziness in Kent, where everyone dresses up and participates in a town-wide evening of debauchery. Of course, for many young girls, this is a chance to dress up like an absolute slut and face positively no negative social ramifications, even from catty, super-competitive girlfriends. We saw literally hundreds of naughty nurses, naughty cops, naughty pirates, naughty cowgirls (how practical is a mini-miniskirt if you ride a horse? Maybe the internet will answer that question in ways we don't want to learn....), naughty everythings. No creativity whatsoever. But these did not really catch my eyes. Well, they did, but that's another story.
When I'm talking about the absolute sluts, I'm talking about the ones who wear super short skirts with wide-knit fishnet stockings and no underwear, so that when the wind blows up just barely (as it did), I get an eye full of ass and camel-toe. I saw two bare asses this way. At this point, we're only steps away from smiley face stickers over the nipples and a clear plastic triangle over the crotch. I wonder if this increasing lack of shame has anything to do with the inability to shock this coming generation. I went to a number of halloween parties in college and I never saw shit like that. Even the girls who were going to frat parties and wore napkins didn't reveal that much! Even though that one girl's skirt blew up and I saw plenty, she didn't react, try to cover up or anything. No one walking behind her really even reacted, and they were mostly guys.
In my perverted college-guy days, I would have at least clapped. Okay, I would have tonight too had I been outside.
Then again, my modesty is all in my head and it's partially programmed because I've been told to be ashamed of my body all my life... not in the psycho-Christian way, but the fat-kid way. But you know, flesh is flesh and I don't mind flesh at all. I am a dude, and I am married but not dead. But camel-toes hanging out are a little much for me, even when you're pretending to be someone you're not for Halloween.
Just a glimpse of our future?
I'm going to go take my one extra hour of sleep. I get to borrow it until March, so I'm going to take as much advantage as possible, because either way I have to pay it back then.
Now, don't get me wrong -- no matter how shitty the world gets, and how disappointing it becomes, I plan to carve out my little space and do my thing. I also plan to work on making it a better place through the typical things like random acts of kindness, etc. It's all I can do. And for nothing else, I'm going to continue to observe the world as it inevitably goes to shit as if I was watching a fast-motion security camera video of a hot day with broken A/C at Madame Tussaud's.
I guess the point is, no matter how bad it gets, I'll still be here and I'll still be doing something. And if I'm not, I won't know any better anyway. With that attitude, the disenchanting world becomes nothing more than a setting, a decor or a background for the life I'll lead. Even my view on disenchantment is disenchanting. It's a time like this that I should go to my dark wood-paneled study and consider the world in my captain's chair with brandy-on-the-rocks and a cigar. If I had a wood-paneled study, a captain's chair, if I drank (I don't anymore, though I don't remember mentioning that...), and if I was in the mood for a cigar.
Meh.
In doing some appropriate musical listening this week during a mental health downswing, I began to wonder how in the world two of the best albums of this decade were Johnny Cash albums (American III and American IV, which are both brilliant and worthy of your listen). Then, I began to wonder what we should call this decade. It's odd that we're six years into the decade and there's no consensus.
I remember in the 1980s (Back to the Future!) it seemed to be the consensus that after the turn into the 2000s, everything would be called like "twenty-ten" or "twenty-twentyfive). And that sounded okay, I suppose. It worked in the 1900s when every year was "nineteen-ninetyfive" and it should work now. Except for this first decade of the bunch, where there's the awkward zerio. Would it be "twenty-oh-five," then? Obviously that didn't work, because we called it "two-thousand-five." Under the logic with which we named the 1990-99 decade the "nineteen-nineties," wouldn't the 2000-2009 decade be the "two-thousands?" That doesn't work, because the "two-thousands" would apply to the entire century (2000-2099) like the "nineteen-hundreds" does to the 1900-1999 period.
I think I read somewhere that a growing trend is to call this decade the "oughties." I've heard really old people call years the 1900-1909 decade "nineteen-ought-six," but I'm pretty sure that anyone who used this method is long dead. I've certainly not heard anyone do it for a number of years, and certainly not the younger generation who will (for some god-forsaken reason) look back at this decade is an uber-romanticized way. But, the "oughties" has a ring to it, and it rhymes with the "nineties" and such. Can something be so forced, and so fake? I mean, I know that the other decades were just as fabricated of temporal identities, but people took on to calling the decades by those monikers on their own and even before the decades began. Wouldn't the "oughties" be a cop-out by comparison, something shoved down our throat as a convenient nickname (a la "why-two-kay" or "nine-eleven", or even "The Q" for the old Gund Arena in Cleveland) so that they media can shorten the soundbites even further?
And of course, you can call the decade the "Naughty Oughties" which will certainly thrill soft-core pornographers, the religious right, abortion-clinic bombers, New Years Eve-only sluts, preachers, sex stores, stupid talking heads on Fox and other jerkoffs?
Of course, this brings us back to a conversation with Kory... it seems as though our generation and those just younger than us are growing up in a time when there is no shame. I mean, think about it. In our lives, the amount of "shock" entertainment grew considerably in quantity and vulgarity. There have been popular music songs about killing women and children, about aborting fetuses and eating them, about eating turds, about vomiting during sex, about how lap dances are so better when the stripper is crying (do-do-do-do-do-dodo, do-do). Every home with the internet has instant access to thousands of sites containing child porn, critter porn, old person porn, and any oddball crazy political belief in the world. The shock is gone.
But does that really affect kids? Maybe, maybe not. Then again, tonight was the annual Halloween craziness in Kent, where everyone dresses up and participates in a town-wide evening of debauchery. Of course, for many young girls, this is a chance to dress up like an absolute slut and face positively no negative social ramifications, even from catty, super-competitive girlfriends. We saw literally hundreds of naughty nurses, naughty cops, naughty pirates, naughty cowgirls (how practical is a mini-miniskirt if you ride a horse? Maybe the internet will answer that question in ways we don't want to learn....), naughty everythings. No creativity whatsoever. But these did not really catch my eyes. Well, they did, but that's another story.
When I'm talking about the absolute sluts, I'm talking about the ones who wear super short skirts with wide-knit fishnet stockings and no underwear, so that when the wind blows up just barely (as it did), I get an eye full of ass and camel-toe. I saw two bare asses this way. At this point, we're only steps away from smiley face stickers over the nipples and a clear plastic triangle over the crotch. I wonder if this increasing lack of shame has anything to do with the inability to shock this coming generation. I went to a number of halloween parties in college and I never saw shit like that. Even the girls who were going to frat parties and wore napkins didn't reveal that much! Even though that one girl's skirt blew up and I saw plenty, she didn't react, try to cover up or anything. No one walking behind her really even reacted, and they were mostly guys.
In my perverted college-guy days, I would have at least clapped. Okay, I would have tonight too had I been outside.
Then again, my modesty is all in my head and it's partially programmed because I've been told to be ashamed of my body all my life... not in the psycho-Christian way, but the fat-kid way. But you know, flesh is flesh and I don't mind flesh at all. I am a dude, and I am married but not dead. But camel-toes hanging out are a little much for me, even when you're pretending to be someone you're not for Halloween.
Just a glimpse of our future?
I'm going to go take my one extra hour of sleep. I get to borrow it until March, so I'm going to take as much advantage as possible, because either way I have to pay it back then.
Posted by Your Friendly Neighborhood DJ on October 29, 2006 01:10 AM | Permalink
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