... word vom....

take the below post for what it is... the utterly pointless ramblings of a Cultural Studies major asked to sum up how her degree applies to the industry which she works in and lives in....

I just saw a commercial for a rerun of the MMVAs with clips from the two-hour live broadcast, and seeing all the biggest stars in pop culture, gathered on the streets of  Toronto’s entertainment district.  There were a decent amount of Canadians stars on that stage.

… And not the minor Canadian celebrities that MuchMusic has always trotted out in order to reach some kind of CanCon quota. We had Justin Bieber, we had Drake, Hedley, Shenae Gimes…

Don’t get me wrong, I am not defending the talent of these people. I know as much as the next guy that they are all pretty much fluff or drivel, at best. But they are certifiably famous. Famous in the annoying TeenBeat, CW, Perez Hilton kinda way…

Canadians have really entered the world arena... And they have done it as Canadians. The fact that the telecast of this awards rivalled the cheesiest the CW or Nickelodeon could come up with attests to that fact. Except it was distinctly Canadian. 

The show is filmed live in the streets of a city that is currently being locked down for an International Political Summit, the G20. And its born of necessity. Toronto has no Kodak theatre. there is just no camera ready venue in Toronto. But that colours the semiotics of the product as much as if it were a conscious decision. But that openness, that inclusion, the agora created by including everyone and anyone that happened on Queen and John on Sunday evening (even though only a moron or a sadist would have approached it without a backstage pass) is the exact thing that you are seeing at the Grammys, the MTV Movie Awards, and the Oscars. Call it the influence of the internet. Call it the inevitable and long-awaited  democracy and equality that has been growing for years. But the world is ready to see itself, in all its weird and varied, disparate and beautiful glory. 

All the stars up on those stages are moving further and further away from the stick thin or big muscled empty vessel that characterized the 1990s. We want to see some PERSONALITY (even if it is in whitewashed and measured doses... so as not to scare the white bread). We want our Kate Perry's, our GaGa's , our Miley "cant be tamed" Cyrus... We want the people we put at the middle of our lives stories to be whoever the hell they are... just like we want to be, and still believe that we can be the star of our own story. 


And thats what the MMVAs delivered. For the people, Of the people.

In short, Muchmusic, the most Canadian broadcaster i can think of that is not run by the Government, nailed it.

But they had help from popular opinion. Its kind of just our time to shine, the “celebrity” is more and more closely resembling the Archetype of the Canadian Hero. a misfit that has been developed over centuries of film, tv, books and theatre in the “other” North American country.

This particular idea, of the Canadian as a deviant antihero, is a theory I have been compiling for the better part of a decade. The Canadian Hero has always jumped out at me as being defined only as being the “other”. He’s an antihero. She’s quirky, he’s dark, she’s a deviant.

Being located just to North of the 49^th parallel has given this country a complex, to be sure. Since the dawn of the TV age, and through the rise of Cinema, The USA has been the frontrunner on the world stage. And not just on the screen. They have led the way in arenas of business, politics, military, and definitely cultural production. And Canada has always lived on the edges of that bright shining spotlight. 

We are the nice next door neighbour, the reliable, slightly dumpy yet utterly lovable cousin. we are the black sheep of the family.

Canadians are almost American, but not quite. And our National Identity has been built in defining the ways we are Not with a capital N. Not Republican, Not Warmongers, Not Mainstream, Not Closeminded. We are defined by the paradigm that surrounds the American Patriot.

However, in a post-911, post-Bush, post-Guantanamo, post-Economic Crash world it is just that person, the NOTS, that are being celebrated and pushed into the worlds eyes as heros and role models.

It is the deviants, the creative’s, the open-minded, open-armed friends of the world that we need at the forefront, and the US Cultural Machine has a ready pool of talent to draw from.

Its been building slowly since the fall of Bush and the rise of the Yes We Can ObamaNation. Popular Culture wants a leader that is Not everything they have had. an antonym to the last decade.

and we, as a nation, have been studying them carefully for a century. We mimic their products, their customs, their costumes, but just NOT QUITE. We are the Other.

And the world needs a little Other right now.

Hurray for the Other.

... Future with a capital F....

Once again, William Gibson has found the words.

From his blog (bolding is my own, to stress my favourite bits):


"The Future, capital-F, be it crystalline city on the hill or radioactive post-nuclear wasteland, is gone. Ahead of us, there is merely…more stuff. Events. Some tending to the crystalline, some to the wasteland-y. Stuff: the mixed bag of the quotidian.


Please don’t mistake this for one of those “after us, the deluge” moments on my part. I’ve always found those appalling, and most particularly when uttered by aging futurists, who of all people should know better. This newfound state of No Future is, in my opinion, a very good thing. It indicates a kind of maturity, an understanding that every future is someone else’s past, every present someone else’s future. Upon arriving in the capital-F Future, we discover it, invariably, to be the lower-case now."

... two bands, two things...

When i write cards, be they birthday, goodbye, congratulations or random, I always write,

"may life bring you good luck and happy coincidence."

I was lucky tonight. i got both. I did one of my favourite things... I got a last minute invite from a friend to go hear a band i didnt know... and they were awesome. so was the band that opened for them.

First Aid Kit and Samantha Crain both rocked the Riv tonite.

And i learned two very valuable lessons. Valuable enough that i felt they needed to be recorded for posterity, to last for all time on the interweb (the closest modern day equivalent i have to stone tablets):

"a hard on doesn't mean you're in love"  - Samantha Crain

"time is tough on me"  - First Aid Kit

both valuable insights.....

... my hero...

I may have mentioned one or two times before that William Gibson is the closest thing to a god that this agnostic little jew has known.... Seriously, the way that man sees the world, and foresees it, it blows my mind....

And I think I may have just locked into the secret of the whole thing in this interview he did with Amazon.com:

"Amazon.com : We have your original proposal for the book up on our site, and the thing that struck me immediately was that none of the characters you discuss ended up, at least with the specifics that you give them at the time, in the final book. I'm just curious how you progress from one group of characters to another as you're planning the book or writing it.
Gibson: Well, I think the key thing there is that I never really believe in the proposal. 

Loves it....

No one ends up what they start out to be... The key is to not tie yourself too much to what you claimed in the beginning...

By the way, you can read the whole interview here on Gibson's website.... which you should check out anyway, cuz he just kicks all kinds of ass


***** i am adding to this post again... I did it twice already, and now it feels like cheating not to admit i jkeep coming back and adding more stuff... But I forgot how much I love this man... so many things out of his mouth are the ones i wished i had said first (if I had ever done anything worth asking me my opinion on these matters, anyway). This little gem is from his blog

"It’s unlikely that meeting a writer of fiction will get me any closer to the writer’s work, in my experience. The opposite effect is sometimes noted. Writers of fiction, as I understand them, are writers because they can get closer to you *as marks on paper* than they can any other way. They cannot sit and tell you. If they could tell you, then why would they write? They cannot explain. They do not know, that way. They know transiently, at best, in the act of marking paper."

... for the love of beards...

I have been following this blog ever since i first got a reader... in fact, it was the very first blog i ever added to my reader....

I love that she's been writing about, collecting images and even making beard crafts for almost 2 years...

loves it!

ps. if you want to secure my undying love or one whopper of a good mood, get me one of her yarn beards... i so want one

... the hunt....

I first read this article for a first year class. Actually it was this article that led me to consider cultural theory as a degree.

Someone reminded me about it today. I was talking about 'coohunting'. Not the website (no matter how much i love it), but the profession, marketing practice that was popular pre-internet. Searching through streets and stores and skate parks and dark bars for the people whoknew what was 'up' and then ripping it from their hands (or off their feet, their backs, their bookshelves and cd racks) and selling it to the public... forcing the alterna-kids to find the 'next big thing'.

It got me to thinking about whether that is possible, or even worthwhile in the exponentially faster trend cycle of the internet age... and so I went to search for it online. To remind myself what exactly that article said that made me so curious about spotting meaning in social symbol, and the process by which things become "things"... the journey of a real-world meme. and whether that process which so enchanted me a decade ago could be applied to the world i live in now...

.... and after some googling to avoid paying for a New Yorker Subscription to access their online archives i realized it was written by Malcolm Gladwell... The Canadian-raised author and theorist who had his 15 minutes when his books Blink, and the Tipping Point became the hottest things to pick up in the airport before a transatlantic flight, or a long weekend at the cottage. I always resisted, even refused, to read these books... for the same reason I hate Michael Moore movies. They have all the right ideas, but men like Gladwell and Moore make it so easy to fire off empty catch phrases without any content, research or thought... It propagandizes ideas which I actually believe to be true, worthwhile and useful. But they are never implemented or even studied because people would rather have the cliche than the lesson. It pisses me off that no matter how much I hate the Tipping Point for its Celestine-Prophecy-freakonomics-michael-moore-fly-by-night-nyt-bestseller list popularity Gladwell has a point...

I just think he pretty much summed it up in this article.... in 1997.

What does Gladwell think about trending in the internet age? I should probably read his book.

Its ironic that the only reason i dont want to read it is because everyone else loved it so much....

... the pursuit....

from Late Nights on Air by Elizabeth Hay:

"Oh, Harry," she said, "I wish I were a different kind of person."

He took off his glasses with one hand, a gesture she loved, and studied her. He was exposing himself to her gaze even as he was seeing her with his own eyes.

What kind of person, he wanted to know.

"Someone," she said slowly, "who truly loves life."

He was still looking at her, still cradling his glasses in his left hand. He said, "You're the kind of person who never stops trying."

***********************

i don't know, in some ways, i think that the person always trying has it better off.

... a lesson in radio...

in my last semester of university i took an independent study course in radio editing. i did it with a friend, and we had a professor, Brian Morel. brian was a tenured professor without a track. the university had slowly cut off his courses as they transitioned from a hands-on to a theoretical approach to Cultural Studies, an already quirky and tiny faculty in a school putting its dollars into Scientific Research.

Brian was the crazy uncle left to quietly amuse himself. officially, he was responsible for the summer arts programme and tiny symposiums hosted by the department. but mostly he just hung around the cultural studies building, acting as unofficial caretaker, affable host and occasional mentor to the wackiest of grad students. The buiilding itself was a saggy townhome that teetered precariously on the steepest part of Peel Street. There was a screening room on the first floor (the only part of the building still used for any form of actual teaching), a few offices on the second floor for associate proffesors not valued enough for a space on the campus proper, and on the third was Brians lair. his office, playground and kingdom.

this is where i took perhaps the most applicable and useless course of my post-secondary education.

For the sake of clarity i would like to say upfront that i have never used the fine skill of splicing tape i learned on that third floor... and the lessons on delivery certainly didnt help me out during my audition as an audio book narrator for the CNIB. but Brian taught me how to enjoy yourself in a professional situation that is... shall we say, less than a balls-out marathon of tasks and deadlines.

Brian knew that two young graduates of a cultural theory degree in the new millenium had little need for the skills he excelled in. the antiquated processes of the CBC in the 70s, the reel to reel editing and radio documentary. but those lessons were a background to our true education. Above all else Brian stressed finding fun and lightheartedness in your daily work, curiousity and passionate engagement with whatever the task at hand.

one day my friend and i found ourselves literally pawing through a box of dress up clothes, making fun on the third floor, to fill time and engage in the play of radio drama. i learned the number one rule of interviews - to ask the next question, always ask - during long afternoon talks with him in his office, learning about his crazy life, seeing his photographs, listening to gossip about other professors.

i use those skills all the time, every day. ask any graduate with an arts degree. no one cares what you know or think about McLuhan. and the ability to reason your way through the most difficult of subjective hypotheses in 50 pages apperently does not prove that you can run the department. things become cliche because they are so often thecase, you simply must pay your dues. as a result you will spend a lot of years with tasks too simple and a lot of time on your hands. This is a simple fact, but not necessarily to your detriment, as brian was to teach us. reaching the other end of the spectrum, he was in his twilight years, constantly beating back his retirement in perhaps the one job that cant make him go away. he loved working, no matter how ridiculous he looked to the rest of us. and he taught me how to love my work, no matter what it happens to be.

he taught me that the best thing you can do is be curious.... about your job, your company, the processes and people involved in what you do. you need to make a life for yourself in your job. not make a job your life mind you, but the exact opposite.

Learn, whatever you can.... and care about what that means. make sure you have a few laughs, enjoy what you are doing every day. even if it wastes a little time and indulges the most childish of impulses. as long as you are engaged and aware of your function - your responsibilities, the fun can come in the spaces where there is room for it.

you probably don't think this was a skill that could be applied, or at least, not a learned skill. but Brian taught me about finding your niche in the world, a world that doesnt always make room for you to shine in all your capable glory. He was waiting for his moment, and finding value in the time he had and the space it afforded him to indulge his curiousity, his need to learn about and experience life. the opportunity it afforded him to stretch himself, to enjoy himself while remaining responsible and finding worth in the work he did do, the few places where he retained his value to the bureaucratic machine that ran the University.

he was dead serious about his work, but he also loved his life.