
Tuesday

web log (late 20th c. – early 21st c.)

This week, and weekend was actually super meh. Some of these links may be older, from my secret stash of meh. Last night, I made the mistake of forgoing a concert by the Geri Allen Quartet in favor of sushi and Coraline, both completely full. Like, the entire city of Portland was sold out. I ended up watching an anthology of Christian scare films from the ’60s. There was a pretty brutal one on “trainables,” mentally handicapped people who have enough mental reasoning to teach sex ed to. Anyway, here’s what you’ve all been waiting for:
1. The Abstainance Clown!
This Abs-clown recieved $50,000 from the Bush administration for teaching abstainance education. I know that not everybody follows up on links, but this one is worth watching. Entertaining in every respect.
2. Caleb Burnhans
Except for, like, the particulars, I really want to be this man.
EARLY this summer Caleb Burhans cleared his performance calendar for the first time since 2001, when he graduated from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester and moved to New York City. He wasn’t taking a vacation, exactly. Lincoln Center and Alarm Will Sound, a new-music orchestra in which he plays violin, had commissioned him to write a work to be performed in March as part of the reopening festivities at Alice Tully Hall, and Mr. Burhans resolved to do nothing but compose.
Well, sort of. He set aside his weekly bread-and-butter job, singing as a countertenor in the Trinity Choir on Sunday mornings, and turned down pickup orchestra gigs.
But at the Bang on a Can Marathon in June, he played his “No,” for violin and electronics, and performed with Alarm Will Sound and another new-music group, Signal. He also performed with Signal at the Ojai Music Festival in California. And in a three-day stretch in August, in New York, he sang with two chamber choirs (also conducting one of them), played and sang in a pop theater piece and gave a concert with itsnotyouitsme, his ambient rock duo.
And when his Sept. 1 deadline arrived, the industrious Mr. Burhans not only had completed his work for Lincoln Center, “oh ye of little faith … (do you know where your children are?),” but had started two more pieces as well.
3. Hallelujah
As people who know me personally know, I love Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah.” This is a piece about the song by a British journalist, and is one of the better pieces of pop criticism that I have ever read. You should too.
Like I said, “meh.”
This weekend brought me two works that may not seem to be related, but cover with the same themes.

The first is Where I Was From, by Joan Didion. This book is basically an extended essay dealing with the author’s struggles to understand her heritage as a member of an old California family and the way that the land still affects her, even though she has spent her entire professional life in the East. While examining such things as how the Donner party affected racism in early California, how the implosion of the aerospace industry in Southern California gace rise to the infamous “Spur Posse” of Lakewood California, and the enormous influence of the California Prison Guards Union, Didion circles back to a fundamental truth; many of the self-perceptions and myths that Californians believe are completely incompatible with the actual history of the land. Paraphrasing Didion, “The entire state has been shaped by people mortgaging their future for immediate monetary gain.”

The second work is Robert Towne’s 1974 film, Chinatown. Chinatown follows Jake Gittes, a Los Angeles private detective working in the 1930’s. An innocent job following a man suspected of adultery leads to a dizzying maze of murder, power and secrets that leads right to the most powerful men in the city.
Both works are peopled with independent, hungry men looking for the magic way to get wealthy. They fancy themselves pioneers, in Didion’s case literally scratching a living from a newly opened land. In Chinatown everybody is trying to pretend that their desert is a tropical paradise.
When he first come out here, he figured if you dumped water into the desert sand and let it percolate down to the bedrock, it would stay there instead of evaporate the way it does in most reservoirs. You only lose 20% instead of 70 or 80. He made this city.
Noah Cross and his Department of Water may believe that they have transformed the desert with the blood of the Owens Valley, but as Hollis Mulwray himself says, “You dig beneath the buildings, beneath the streets and you get hot dry desert sand.”
But Hollis and Noah are not thinking about the desert. They have out-engineered it. They have mastered the land. They have sold precious water to fuel an unsustainable desert Xanadu. And this short term thinking, trading planning for temporary riches has been a facet of California life for as long as there have been settlers.
In the beginning of California’s history, the state used to be attractive to only a certain type of person: one who was willing to uproot his family, travel with only what they could carry, and ultimately one who was willing to change his trade at the drop of a hat. This sets up a curious xenophobia; all Old California families are suspicious of “new” people who came in the postwar boom. And of course, Chinese, Mexican, or Indians could never be “old,” regardless of how long they have lived here. In reality, all of these immigrant groups (except, of course, the Native Americans) were in the state for the same reason as the old settlers.
Even more interesting is the story of those who actually ended up wealthy. From the beginning, California’s economic growth has been fueled by handouts from the Federal government. In the last century, that came in the form of land grants, railroad expansion, and vast public works projects in the state, in this century it came in the form of the defense industry that employed much of Southern California from the airplane manufacturers in Burbank to the shipyards of Long Beach to the unbelievably large California penal system. And yet all of those workers would claim a California heritage of hard-working individualism.
That’s the big irony: a state that prides itself on its independence has always been completely dependent on the federal government to finance an overly large artificial middle class. The history of the state is a repeating cycle of decisions made for quick gain leading to problems fixed by the federal government setting up other problems. It’s why it appears backwards to many visitors. It’s why we have a budget crisis today. The future…
1. Bruce Springsteen at the Super Bowl was not very good. As my friend NevilleJohn put it, “The Boss = A Loss.” What surprises me more than that was that the people on my Twitter feed really liked it. Perhaps it’s a generational thing.
2. The co-winners of my contest were NevilleJohn and Sturgeo. They will recieve a blue ribbon in their inboxes tonight.
1. A Small World
Once again proving that I am not a part of the social elite, I had never known of the existence of A Small World, a jet set/social elite version of Facebook before Wikipedia browsing. Apparently, it is an invitation only service (and you have to be recommended by 10 existing members before gaining access to the holy of holies) that caters to wealthy socialites centered in London, New York and Paris. They moniter your credit rating, actions on the site, and social capital.
2. Segmented Sleep
Also from Wikipedia, this is apparently the way that people slept before artificial illumination. Basically, workers would be too tired after a long day of work to do anything but eat and sleep. So they woke before dawn for what we would consider leisure activities (and, according to Wikipedia, lovemaking) before going back to sleep before work. Maybe my sleep schedule isn’t as weird as I think it is.
3. Best Sculpture Ever.

4. Drunken Anderson Cooper after January 20th