A little math help

Anyone who has been reading me for a while knows that I don't think there is much real difference in intelligence, creativity, good or evil between men and women, or black and white. I don't think men are in control of the world, although I can see how it looks like that to someone blind to Yin energy. There are places that men ARE in control (or male energy is) like Afghanistan. And their society is all but crumbled. You just can't oppress half a population without damaging the other half.

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So the question of whether it is "worse" for men to be attracted to hourglass figures and the signs of sexual receptivity (plump red lips, etc.) than for women to be attracted to power isn't answerable in any absolute sense. We'd have to create a scale of values first, and agree upon it. THEN it might be possible to quantify. What I know is that, for instance, I know I'm not gay because when I look at men the little light doesn't go on in the back of my head. When I look at certain women, it does. Sproing! I don't have any control over that response. Few men outside of Porn stars do. And men like what makes them go Sproing. If they don't go Sproing, the human race comes to a screeching halt.

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Really simple, but people don't want to look at that. And women being attracted to power? Wow, that's just looking for a safe nest in which to deposit the eggs. What in the world is so complicated about that? About 95% of the time, that's the transaction I see, and both men and women collaborate in maintaining that balance.

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I'm delighted to hear about more and more women who are powerful and self-reliant being attracted to "hot" guys who have less material wealth. This is the ONLY way that women will ever approach "equality" in terms of Yang power structures--if men are allowed to be more Yin without it impinging on their Sproing action. Otherwise, trust me--those Beta males will rat-fuck you every time you try to climb the corporate ladder. If women are attracted only to Alphas, then every Beta male is a potential saboteur, trust me.

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"A little chubby" is more than just fine. It fits perfectly with enough world aesthetical standard that it is within range for normal health and attractiveness. The standards trying to make women really skinny certainly aren't being promoted by heterosexual men. Look at the women in Men's magazines: they have breasts and hips. It's the women in WOMEN'S magazines who look like scarecrows. To tell you the truth, it was when I realized how many women thought that men were most attracted to these scarecrows that it first hit me that women were just as gullible as men. Frankly, until that time I'd labored under the illusion that women were a little better than us. Too bad. Would have been nice. Who creates those images? On my most cynical days, I'd say gay men and older women, both of whom might have some unconscious motivation to diminish the competitive advantage of the "competition." But that's Cynical Steve talking there.

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Saw "Observe and Report", the new Seth Rogen comedy. I loved it, but man oh man is it dark. Basically, it is "Paul Blart, Mall Cop II--Off his meds." That's it. Rogen, who is more impressive a performer with every film, plays a loutish, 90-IQ fellow with serious emotional problems barely controlled by his medication. Head of security at the local mall, he fantasizes about being a real cop, and idealizes a sleazy sexpot as the ideal woman. One day, he feels so positive about himself that he decides to stop taking his medication...and boy oh boy do things go downhill fast. The director, whose previous movie "Fist Foot Way" is the "King of Comedy" of martial arts films, has an absolute genius in creating scenes that walk a very fine line between genuine lunacy and gut-bustingly funny. The notorious date rape scene is like that, and an interview with Rogen makes it clear how the filmmakers created this sequence with great care, knowing that the audience would be on the edge of their seats, wondering what the #$%% was about to happen, and redeeming the character at the very last moment in the only way possible. I sat there with Tananarive not sure if I was about to walk out of the theater or laugh my ass off. It is, according to Tananarive, the second-best Mall movie ever made. The first is "Dawn of the Dead" (the Romero version.) Easy to see why I love this woman.

Give it a strong "B"

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And remaining with our motif of "how offensive can we be?" There is "Crank II: High Voltage" starring Jason Statham, who was born to play Modesty Blaise's Willie Garvin and probably never will, dammit. Look, if you buy a guy falling a mile out of a helicopter, bouncing off the roof of a car and smacking the street, literally being spatula'd up by Chinese hoods, having his heart removed and put into David Carradine (in Chinese makeup)'s chest and a fritzy artificial one put in his own chest, then leaping out of bed and fighting, screwing, shooting, sprinting and otherwise engaging in freelance mayhem all over L.A. to get his own ticker back (what he calls his "Strawberry Tart," which confused many critics. Cockney rhyming slang, folks: Strawberry Tart--Heart. See?) then you have to accept that this takes place in a very strange cartoon universe, and absolutely anything can happen. Once you're in on the joke, this is a scathingly profane and hilariously vile film, like the most expensive Trauma Pictures movie ever made. I'd swear the Toxic Avenger was lurking in the shadows. WOW was this movie offensive. It was one of those films where the white guy runs around knocking the shit out of every ethnic type around: Asians, blacks, Mexicans, Middle-Easterners, whatever. White guys are also irresistible to all ethnic women, which would ordinarily offend me, but the filmmaker's naked psyches are so stripped raw onscreen that I can't muster the indignation. I knew what I was getting into when I went. All women are whores, all men are thuggish buffoons, including the hero. It's not quite Equal Opportunity offense, but it comes as close as anything I've seen in quite some time

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"Crank" has more energy than any three ordinary "Action" movies. It is an overdose on Pop Tarts and Red Bull, filtered through the extended adolescence that still believes that strippers are the apex of womanhood, and the four-letter word for "Intercourse" is more than a mere verb or noun, but in fact the Holy Grail of linguistics, to be inserted in a script more often than the word "the" if possible. If they gave Academy Awards for ludicrous over-the-top racist sexist misanthropic cockeyed brilliance, "Crank" might get it. Stay away if you can't get in touch with your inner adolescent, however. This one is REALLY one of those "so bad it's good" movies that is totally aware of what it is. Are there some genuinely unpleasant stereotypes lurking under it's good-natured ultraviolence? Why, sure. But oddly, I have a sense that these filmmakers were going so far out that they damn near created art. Filmed with like 100 cheap high-def video cameras, they create a hyperkinetic kaleidoscope that is as close to a live-action cartoon on Adult Swim as anything you're ever likely to see. It bodes well for low-budget filmmakers, really. For discriminating adults: STAY AWAY. For the lunatics out there...an "A" damned near. Wow. What insanity.

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WARNING: SAMBO ALERT

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Uhh...well, screw it. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.

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By the way, I joined the Susan Boyle fan club on Facebook. I hope to God that this woman gets a makeup artist, a little help with diet and exercise...and lets her light shine. Yeah, I said it. My guess? She spent years caring for her ailing mother, who was plump. As long as she sees something that looks like Momma in the mirror, she isn't quite so alone. There is always a payoff for our behavior. Find it, and you have the key.

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Recently, I spoke to a friend who used to be a cute, sweet, curvy little thing...and is now dealing with serious weight issues. I told her that she needs to find the payoff--the positive result she is receiving from the fat. I have too much respect for her not to believe she's getting something out of it. It costs her pain in her back and her joints, it costs her energy and has cost her work (she is qualified to teach an exercise discipline...but who is going to hire her?)

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She protested, of course. And I said, "listen. If I'm wrong and you're right, no harm no foul. But if I'm right and you're wrong, no amount of diet or exercise planning will ever help you. You'll sabotage yourself again and again, because your inner self and outer self are at war. So think about it."

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And within an hour, a light went on in her eyes. She said that she had been really nasty to a previous boyfriend, pushing him to see if he "really loved" her. She doesn't do that with the current one, but was horrified to realize that she might be doing the exact same thing with her weight: seeing if he would leave her if she got fat. I've seen a number of really sexy slinky women who made bad choices in men do the same thing: they blamed their bodies instead of their judgement, got fat and feel happy that they are finally loved for themselves. So sad: they could have had both, with a little extra insight into human nature.

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Whatever has held back Susan Boyle, my guess is that she's going to get a make-over like you wouldn't believe. And that "never been kissed" line (which I don't believe) won't apply much longer. Is it sad that she'd have to do that? Anyone who thinks it is must love swimming upstream, and I worry for you. Animals groom and display and build nests. Human beings have the capability to abstract and find many unconventional things to be beautiful and powerful. But I've never met a woman who complained about men seeking beauty who did not herself judge men according to external, shallow standards. Or a man who complained about money-grubbing women who was not himself hungering for beauty. The people who are genuinely at peace on this matter seem to understand the game, and are amused by the fact that others are as enmeshed in it as chinchillas. You can spot the ones trapped in the game because they say things like "men are so..." or "women are so..."

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As opposed to "human beings are so..." with a real sense of affectionate appreciation for the fact that we're angels built on an animal chassis.

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I think we're pretty cool, actually.

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Does anyone out there know about the mathematics of bookmaking? I've never really gambled, but have a character, an ex-bookie, brilliant at math, who needs to lay a bet at 3-1 odds, and I need to justify his reasons for believing its a good bet. Help?

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Rest Well, Dillon

Susan Boyle, the unemployed Scot "American Idol" singer is all over the news. I think that the contrast between her visual presentation and her very serious skills...her "never been kissed" claim and the very real sexiness of watching a human being operate at rarified levels of skill...has really kinda captured the country. I think it's terrific. She still has hopes to find love, and I pray she does. Yes, there is an element of judgementalism about her appearance, but since when have human beings not been judgemental? Women more for their looks, men more for their money. Want different results, change the game you're playing: stop expecting the world to change. The television show "Lie To Me" recently had a great bit where a billionaire wants to ask his girlfriend to marry him, and discovers she knew he was rich when she met him (she lied about it), but that she really, genuinely loves him. The advice? Marry her with a prenup. After all, they said, he was attracted to her for her beauty. What's the problem? None, except that we don't tend to be honest about it.

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I don't expect everybody to buy the theory of human attraction above, but I encourage people to have their own, based on universal human principles rather than trying to blame half the human race for the problems of the whole--a form of covert sexism, in my mind, suggesting that women are ineffectual and helpless. Is it more unfair of women to be judged by their beauty than men by their power? Once would have to, in my mind, quantify these things, and determine whether it is more difficult for a woman to hit level X of beauty than it is level Y of power. My position is that it takes (in comparison to the actual amount of free time people have) a relatively small amount of time to learn to present our beauty and power to the world. Boyle's voice, for instance, implies a fantastic number of hours of practice. Take 10% of that and put it into learning how to care for her body, hair, and makeup, and you have a different person. If she isn't willing to do that, then her natural partner is a man who has the same lack of care for his finances...or MAYBE a guy with the same lack of care for his appearance, who is at approximately her level of material success. Maybe. I wouldn't bet that way, but I see it sometimes.

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Sexism in the film industry? Sure. But the mistake would be forgetting how women choose men for intelligence and power. It is certainly easier for a woman to lose weight than it is for a man to gain I.Q. points, but

that doesn't seem to matter to people, does it?

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Porn. You know, my take on porn is that a disproportionate number of the women involved had been abused, and that they chose a life option that makes the most of a bad situation. One of the porn stars I know seems to be in a happy marriage. I sure hope so. The other's heart was completely broken when the star she was dating dumped her because he was told she was hurting his career. In both cases, I have to grant that they may have been following their own star. In a country, or culture, where being a temple prostitute increases your desirability as a mate, I think that such behavior is neutral or positive. But if it diminishes your chance of finding someone to genuinely love and cherish you...I have to come down on the side of "nope." In a perfect world, sexuality would be separate from value judgements, and capable of being judged clearly and without a gigantic emotional load. But both men and women exaggerate or downplay its importance in relationships or society. Because of the need to control the natural outcome of sexual intercourse (pregnancy), we have rules that govern the behavior of both men and women in relation to it, and a gigantic amount of guilt and shame associated with it. Andrew Vachss believes that child abuse is the Rosetta Stone of crime. That assertion looks pretty accurate to me. I think it is also the Rosetta Stone of the sex industry. I'd bet anything that a hugely disproportunate percentage of hookers and porn stars were either abused, or began their sexual experimentation at a very early age.

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In a "perfect" world, would such experimentation cause problems? Probably not. But children (and that includes early teens) tend to think they are far more mature than they actually are. And sex is rocket fuel, no doubt about it. Despite Christian's assertions, I see no problem with actors and actresses portraying sexual beings onscreen. The nature of the scene and the emotional content matters a lot, however...but not necessarily more than with other types of scenes. Actors and actresses in R rated films who concentrate on sexual performances probably don't end up any more banged up by life than those who concentrate on, say, stunt work. Emotionally they probably have more problem in relationships, though. I'd have no problem with Nicki appearing in most PG-13 or R-rated scenes. But "most" doesn't mean "all" by any means. But then, I'd feel uncomfortable about her being in some of the "Saw" movies too.

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For years I've wondered about the filming of love scenes, and have spoken with dozens of actors about them. Most of these people went on to have successful marriages, raise families, seemed healthier than the average person. And most of them giggled that love scenes were one of the best things about their job--the ability to get paid a ton of money to make out with someone beautiful.

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And maybe that's all it is for the Porn stars, too. I accept the very real possibility that that's true, even as I have an instinct that tells me it isn't, quite. That little twitch tells me that for many of them, perhaps most, it is a matter of making the best of a bad hand.

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I got bad news today. My little eight year old cousin Dillon, who has had cancer, was going to his last chemotherapy session...and died of heart failure. We'd all been pulling so hard for him. My last memory was him over at the house for Thanksgiving, and playing with Jason. Little bald kid who had a hard time getting into the family games, but finally was just all smiles. Life is so damned short. I think that's why I try so hard to encourage people to find love, health, success. And am so impatient with what seems to me like excuses. I listen to the excuses, and nod my head...and another friend ends up sleeping on the street. Or divorced. Or their health collapses. Life isn't a dress rehearsal, people. There's nothing realer than the fact we have finite days to dance our dance.

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Please--dance ecstatically, with the partner of your dreams, even if it is only your own precious heart.

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Rest well, Dillon.

The Green Door is Closed

So Arizona State University invited Obama to speak, but doesn't want to give him an honorary doctorate. Hmmm. I'd like to see a list of their previous recipients, since their standards are so high. Arizona troubles me. Being the last state in the union to ratify MLK day suggests a certain lack of enthusiasm about the Melanin-rich. Maybe it's just that Obama beat their home town favorite. Or maybe it's something else, entirely innocent. Right.

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Marilyn Chambers is dead. She was the first superstar of Porn. Linda Lovelace never parlayed her initial success with "Deep Throat" into much of anything, but Marilyn motored on after "Behind the Green Door" and "The Resurrection of Eve" into a multi-decade career, becoming the "star" of the lucrative MILF market. I remember watching "Resurrection of Eve" and being seriously amused by the basic thematic conceit: a bored marriage, and a swing club. The husband talks the wife into getting involved in the swing club. She goes along, but is initially repulsed, while hubby is having the time of his life. Then the next time they go, she meets Johnny Keys, a big black stud who rings her chimes. Suddenly, it's her husband who wants to quit the club, and Marilyn is having none of it. She has been "resurrected." Truth is that the entire story, slightly re-treaded, could have been a TV movie on Oxygen or something.

And the acting actually wasn't bad. If you saw "Rabid", the David Cronenberg horror film, would know that while she was no Judy Dench, she could actually act a little. I remember when I started questioning Porn. I'd always been kind of neutral to it, enjoyed it like most guys I knew. Then one day I was at a bachelor party, and they showed an XXX movie. The girl in the movie could act a little, and it took me by surprise. "Hmmm," I thought. "I wonder if she wanted to be an actress? I wonder if she came out to Hollywood with a dream..." and as I watched the young lady in question practicing bedroom gymnastics, suddenly I started to see her as a little girl, a real human being and not just a shadow-play on the screen. It was very hard to imagine that she, as a child, wanted to end up like this. And I started seeing her as someone's sister. Daughter. And I felt just a little sick at myself.

I didn't feel exactly like that with Marilyn Chambers, who somehow seemed to radiate that she really enjoyed this. Whether she did or not is another question: if she had been able to make equal money without exchanging body fluids, would she? I can't say.

When I heard that a couple of years earlier she had been the Ivory Snow girl, and that the soap company was hugely humiliated when the public became aware, and pulled her boxes off the shelf, I ran out to a local market where their stock was old, old, old...and there on the back of the shelf was a box with her face on it. I bought it, and have it sitting in my office to this day. There was something just so sick about it all that I couldn't resist. Why? I don't know. I really don't. I heard that she had won a role in the off-Broadway play "Deep Throat" before she was found dead in her trailer. It just feels a little sad. A life wasted? Geeze, I don't know. I just know I wouldn't want Nicki to do what she did.

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A guy named Wayne Anthony Ross has been named AG by Sarah Palin. Huffington Post had an article blasting him for defending a student's right to create and display a KKK statue. Apparently, a black student was quite offended. This looks like something worthy of blasting, until you read the part about the fact that the art student was fulfilling an assignment to create a statue of "a monster." Excuse me? I'm not sure what there was to protest here. Presenting a KKK member as a monster sounds pretty good to me. And the psych student clearly was having a visceral reaction that overloaded her logic circuits, as if the KKK is so powerful and dangerous that depicting their images in any way whatsoever would blast the soul. Oh, please. Actually, I kinda like the idea. Palin may have lotsa negative stuff to point at, but I fail to see how this is one of them.

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I was at the Norwescon science fiction convention last weekend, and in-between lecturing, signing autographs, or hanging out with friends I had the chance to talk with young writers about the path ahead. All of them are filled with hopes and dreams that their stories will be the ones that touch a deep well of human emotion, changing the world, changing lives, and filling their bank accounts with loot. Sounds good to me.

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The trick, of course, is that there simply isn't room for everyone at the top. That means that not everyone can be at the top of the NY Times bestseller list--there is only room for fifty-two number one hits in a single year. If you define success too narrowly, you simply bash up against the numbers, and miss the secret altogether. The secret? For a writer, the secret is that, in all probability, you didn't start writing to make money. You started writing to express yourself, to share something, to show the world how clever you are, or to get dreams and nightmares out of your head. If you remember this, then money becomes an interesting and valuable way to keep track of your ability to communicate with audiences, but NOT the primary purpose of your writing.

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Making money is a matter of marketing, learning how to tap into the cultural zeitgeist. It is discipline and hard work and finding ways to get the media to notice you. And all of that is necessary. After all, publishing is a business. But you are the one who will have to get out of bed day after day and spill your guts onto the page. Every day, you have to motivate yourself, motor past the first, obvious ideas to the later, deeper ones. Deal with the negative voices and fears, defeat your laziness and dishonesty. Read everything you can get your hands on, and live life to the absolute full.

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And you just can't motivate yourself to do that with money alone. You will need to tap into the deepest, realest parts of yourself, the most passionate. It will take a commitment to being the very best you can be in this lifetime, and allowing your writing to be one of the windows in on that excellence.

Fiddling About

I've been fiddling with my exercise program for decades. It's part of what amuses me and keeps me engaged with something that otherwise might get pretty boring. As I ramp my fitness up another level in preparation for visiting my first karate instructor, Steve Muhammad, in May, I noticed that I was having problems with recovery. I wasn't sleeping well, and was too damned sore. And started wondering if I was just hitting the age wall. I knew that enough yoga would compensate, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I rebel at the idea of spending more than an hour a day engaged with my body directly--feels a bit like a distraction, even if it's only temporary. But I"m experimenting with a cluster of exercises designed to produce not only fitness, but recovery, in less time (I'd like to get to Bikram once a week, but need the benefits every freaking day.) I'll talk about this more as time goes by, but I think I've got my hands on something very interesting:

Morning: Warrior Wellness joint circles. Djurus (silat patterns). Kettlebell minimums (either five minutes of Get-Ups, or 12-20 minutes of H2H Intervals, or "Fat Rippers" [intervals using a treadmill for "active recovery", one minute one and one minute off]).

All right...then my "Five Minute Miracle" work, every three hours a couple of minutes of Scott Sonnon's Prasara series. These are yoga flows, five basic versions, comprising a total of about 25 poses. The brilliant thing about the Prasara sets is that the transitions between the poses are as important as the poses themselves. Potentially more sophisticated than Ashtanga, because Ashtanga uses the exact same "Vinyasa" to connect every pose with the next, while Prasara demands that you look for the smoothest, most efficient route between each pose, leading to some really elegant and wild maneuvers. These connective asana are just great, and if you're warmed up they release the residual muscle tension as well as...well...it takes 90 minutes of Bikram to release the tension. I've been finding that doing three minutes of Prasara five times a day is damned near comparable. I'm not sure if that's right...need to go to Bikram this week and see how it feels. But damned if it doesn't feel like I've cracked that nut.

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Better still, I throw a die or draw cards to decide which one I'm going to do. The result is that my body has to be ready to move in any direction at any time. So far, so very very good.

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Lotsa work today, and just got back from Norwescon last night, feeling a little dragged out. Need to take a slow day, let myself recover a bit. Toni, my ex, was here at the house visiting with Nicki. Apparently, Jason had them watch one of my favorite old monster movies, "Caltiki the Immortal Monster." Best "Blob" movie ever made. Really good cheese. Would love to see the Mystery Science 3000 version.

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We're going back down the rabbit hole for the third Tennyson Hardwick novel, "From Capetown With Love." It's going to be wild, and tense stuff. At the same time we're juggling a half dozen other things...but you know, I still wish that things had gone better over at Searchlight. That whole thing about everybody being frightened to do movies that haven't been done before. Black films, as such, are pretty much confined to comedies, family dramas and gangster stuff. No horror, science fiction, adventure, or thrillers. Yeah, you get black stars in such things, but they are usually a tiny island of melanine in a sea of pale flesh. Our script would sell in a second if we removed the racial references, but then we'd be betraying the original book, and I can't do that. But damn, it's frustrating.

Awww Well...

"Success is the art of going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm."

Churchill? I forget who said that, but I sure understand it, and that's damn near a major guiding principle in Hollywood. Yesterday we finally had our phone meeting with Fox Searchlight on "The Good House" script--which we wrote last year. We were told it was "fantastic"--but there's a little problem, see...the problem is that no one in Hollywood knows what to do with a horror script revolving around a black family. It's pretty much never been done, and no one knows if there's a market for the project. No, it wasn't racism on the part of the execs--the exec in question is black! Purely market driven. So there goes a couple of years of work (although the project will undoubtedly be recycled and will serve our careers at some other point.

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But anyone wondering why I think so much about race in cinema, there you go. I have to try to think a step ahead of where the crowd is going, and get out in front. Of course, I could just write about white people. Done that. And it grinds at my nerves, thinking that I'm not doing my part to heal the world. Maybe I'm wrong about that. But we're all made the way we're made, and this is a rock my heart really wants to roll. Back off, rest up, try again.

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How do you do it? How do you keep your hopes up, keep falling in love with projects, keep putting your heart and soul into everything you do? The more you care, the more the disappointments hurt. Most of the time, I work for equanimity (as opposed to equine enmity. I don't like it when horses get pissed at me) because I don't like the roller coaster ride. But...if the call had been terrific yesterday, there would have been serious celebration. So...I took the chance. And after the bad news, felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Ah well, it's been worse. Feeling like you've been KNIFED in the gut is worse. Worse still when they twist the knife. It happens, trust me.

But not yesterday. Sigh. It's just back to the drawing board.

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Nothing scientific about this, but of the yoga poses I have Jason do in the morning, I have a sense that headstands help his behavior most. Some combination of intensity, balance, calmed breathing, and perhaps even inverted perspective? Not sure, but it's certainly fun to gather data.

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I take a six-sided die and throw it five times a day. 1-5 are the five basic Prasara flows, and #6 is the Warrior Wellness series (shortened a bit). And I do whatever comes up. I like not knowing what is next: it forces my body to stay prepared for any damn thing. That randomization seems healthy to me. Life, after all, is a series of unexpected changes. The combination of dynamic flexibility, balance and strength in yoga is wonderful. The major thing Coach Sonnon did is apply his breathing scale, and then to sequence the asana so that the movements BETWEEN poses are as important as the poses themselves. Transitioning from plow to shoulder bridge is really fascinating, especially when you slow it down and let yourself really feel the compression on your diaphragm. I've found that the Prasara sets are great for fighting Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS), and boy oh boy, am I happy about that! A major bugaboo for me.

A Perfect Day

I've had a few of them: the day Nicki was born. The day I realized I loved Tananarive. The day I broke through a major block at the Q3-4 workshop in Atlanta (talk to the trees, Steve!) and today might be another one. In the last two weeks major positive stuff seems to be happening. Some of it I'll talk about later, I don't want to jinx it. But if a certain telephone call I'm taking at 3:30 today goes well, I promise I'll spill all the beans.

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What I want to say anyway is that I am in love with life. Every evidence suggests that if you make clear plans, believe in yourself, and work your butt off...as long as you let nothing disappoint you, and keep modeling the success of others...miracles happen. Or at least, your dreams begin to come true, a little step at a time.

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Movies. Say "Zack and Miri Make a Porno" and thought it was great fun. The set-up is that two platonic roommakes, male and female, have been buddies since grade school, but never "done it." After ending up accidentally famous on U-Tube, they decide to make a porn film to cash in on the fame. Said film would climax, so to speak, with the two of them doing the dirty deed. And that's when the raunchy fun begins. Occasssionally bust-a-gut funny, it's mostly kinda chuckly and warm, strange for a Kevin Smith movie. A solid "B."

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"Knowing," the new sci-fi film about a guy (Nick Cage) who gets ahold of a list of disasters leading up to something really un-funny, is actually decent, but I have to give it a SAMBO ALERT.

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(SPOILER)

O.K., the list is a warning from aliens that our world is about to come to an end. The aliens manegest as white people. The only two people we see saved are white people. Sorry, but I've seen entirely too many movies ("When Worlds Collide" anyone?) where the only people in the world worth saving are white for me not to flinch at this. And it's a shame...there was a perfect scene there where they could have shown that the aliens brought people from around the world, from all groups. I thought they were going to do that. Ah, well...this is why I love the pressure various racial groups put on Hollywood to get their members into apprenticeship programs in management and tech. Without representation, this kind of (I'm sure) unconscious exclusion would happen even more often. Thank God Jason doesn't have to grow up surrounded by this crap.

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I'm going to Norwescon in a couple of days. Thinking of having a little room party Saturday night. If anyone reading this is going to attend, please let me know...love to see you!
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And please keep your fingers crossed for me. Like I said, something very very nice could happen at 3:30 pst today.

Music and Story

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ﾠ"I'm curious.

Do you believe that storytelling (more specifically, writing short stories and novels) can serve the same purpose as music? Or does it have a different purpose and, if so, what is that purpose?"

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Yes and no. All art flows from the same place within us, and serves similar purposes in our culture. But each specific art form has its own character. Art is communication of the deep Self, and helps to knit us together as a species. I wouldn't say it is exclusive to humanity, because we'd have to have conversations with animals, asking them which of their actions and songs and structures stem from survival needs, and which ones express their essence for the sake of expression alone. I suspect that some animals do indeed simply express themselves for the sheer joy of it.

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Self expression can take infinite forms: every breath can be a work of art, shared with the divine and a testament to the unity of mind, body, and universe. Every step. Every changing of a diaper, or throwing of a punch. The dissolution of the "I-Thou" relationship (a doorway to flow) is essential to the state of artistic or scientific creation.

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The question with art is: what is being expressed? If Jason scrawls crayon on the walls, is it art? I would suspect so, remembering my own early attempts to share my joy with the world. The CRAFT that one acquires along the way is a separate issue. Craft reminds me of language: that unless you can speak someone's language, they may not be able to hear what you are saying, even if it makes sense in your language. Craft enables you, through repetition and/or modification of accepted forms, to communicate with others who have studied the same forms.

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Storytelling. In my mind, there are only two things to write about:

1) What are human beings?

2) What is the world that they inhabit?

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Question #1 gives you all characterization, as well as stories that turn on romance, anger, psychological pathology, politics, family dynamics...whatever. Question #2 gives you much of science fiction, historical fiction, adventure stories (man versus the elements) and so forth.

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And at the core of the questions about human existence, or the existence of the world around them, is the question: What is true? Who am I?

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Music addresses this without words, through a pure sense of aesthetic connection between one note or series of notes and another, one voice and another, one instrument and another, one art form and another (ballet, opera). Music sans cultural context would be a fascinating thing indeed, and there must be schools of musical psychology that ask how the raw notes affect raw consciousness, without reference to the history of an individual's exposure to previous forms. What fun! Acres of academic speculation.

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The truth is that stories use patterns relating to human psychology and growth (characterization and epistomology) and the external world (plot and cosmology) to reveal truths about the way the writer sees existence. Does the world reward effort? Is love just another word for sex? Etc. etc.

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And at the core of it, the quest to understand the world, and the human beings that inhabit it. Leading to understanding ourselves, leading to dissolution of "self," leading to moments in which we forget ourselves and immerse fully in the experience.

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If we find the right things to connect to, they will guide us through the maze of life, through the physiologically and culturally programmed drives and needs, and to the core of existence. To me, all art aims at this, even if the artist is just trying to earn money, get laid, or share a "Hey Daddy! Look at what I can do!" moment.

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In fact, that last might be the purest artistic expression of all.