"Don't hate the player; hate the game."

This is a kind of trite thing to say, but it's pretty damn true. The massive post-War project in the United States of mass post-secondary education coupled with the now dominance of the internet has put "literature" in transition. There are more people in the USA than ever doing "literature." At the same time, the means of production and distribution are wildly different than they were just some twelve years ago. The industry (whatever that is) is in flux. I know absolutely no one involved in this latest niche imbroglio, and only know of a couple of people secondarily or tertiarily related to it. It seems that a lot of the commenting has been about siding with one party over the other based on loyalties, friendships, aesthetic/political or "poetics" stances, et cetera. That is fine and good. Everyone should have a friend.

Two people removed from the situation each have a more systemic (I know ... another trite word) take on the matter. Mike Meginnis breaks it down in a kind of microeconomics style, while Joseph P. Wood breaks it down in a kind of sociological/political economy style. Both takes seem to me the most clear-headed and insightful. I think that both takes end up more or less "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Even if you could care less about "indie-lit," the dynamics of the imbroglio and the subsequent discussion have analogous threads in any creative enterprise these days. The means of production and distribution of music and film have very certainly and very radically changed. Making and distributing is way easier and way cheaper. The "barrier to entry" is nearly ground-level. What was "indie vs. mainstream" twelve years ago isn't "indie vs. mainstream" today. Maybe, as Joseph Wood hints, it's a matter of whether to view the arts on a spectrum rather than oppositional. Maybe the spectrum has been the usual, but the Twentieth Century's means of production and distribution, e.g. mass media, set up binary oppositions - i.e. "mainstream" vs. "alternative/avant/ ..." Maybe this 20th Century type of means of production was an anomalous hiccup.

And so maybe that's why there's so much difficulty, anxiety, screw-ups, shadiness, and hurt feelings right now. We've all been raised and schooled under a mass-media model of culture - mass production (and its opposition) , mass distribution (and its opposition) - that just isn't operative anymore. Maybe it's a new game, and maybe the players are figuring it out as they go along.

Der letzte Mann

The first time that I saw The Last Laugh was in college for an intro to film studies class. The professor had us watch it as an example of 1920s-era German Expressionism (the conventional film studies wisdom being that this was the last film in that vein). Watching the film even then, at my most jaded mid-90s self, I was moved to several teary moments.

Fast-forward roughly a decade later, and there I was watching The Last Laugh again ... and I was even more teary more often than last time. This time, my friends in the Rats & People Motion Picture Orchestra were performing a score that they had written for it at Webster University. Maybe it's just that I had turned into an old romantic fool by then, but I think that a lot of it had to do with how beautifully and seamlessly my friends' music evoked the mood of the film and complemented it.

Fast-forward to now, and it's my honor to be a part of this ensemble. It's also an honor to have a small part in a free R&P MPO screening of The Last Laugh this coming Labor Day evening at El Leñador.

What can I tell you about The Last Laugh without any spoilers? Well, how about this: To me lately, The Last Laugh is about the pride and identity one brings to her or his station in life, and how quickly that station can change, and how psychically devastating that can be. I know, I know ... heavy stuff for the last night of a Labor Day weekend. But then again, maybe given what day it is, it's especially appropriate.

F.W. Murnau's The Last Laugh

Musical score written and performed by
The Rats & People Motion Picture Orchestra
Monday, September 5th
11 PM Movie Time
El Leñador

3124 Cherokee St. STL MO

21+, free admission (but donations welcome and appreciated)

This Evening's Walk

"Hey, what's up, man."

"Hi."

We pass each other on the sidewalk. He has more to say, though.

"Hey man you remind me of my friend Matt who died in a car accident yesterday."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Hey, keep your head up, alright?"

"Thanks. Likewise."

I decide to make sure and wait for all green lights and walk signs for the remainder of my stroll.

Three Hypotheses

Hypothesis 1

balding dudes with shaved heads who are avid bicyclists/dudes who are avid bicyclists
>
balding dudes with shaved heads/dudes

CLoEV*: High

Hypothesis 2

balding dudes with shaved heads who are avid runners/dudes who are avid runners
>
balding dudes with shaved heads/dudes

CLoEV: High

Hypothesis 3

balding dudes with shaved heads who are avid bicyclists/dudes who are avid bicyclists
>
balding dudes with shaved heads who are avid runners/dudes who are avid runners

CLoEV: Medium



*- Confidence Level of Empirical Validation

Not a HaikuLou

Not a HaikuLou


Fawn in the leaves
Doom Town cooks
Andrew Bryant arrives
From Mississippi
Theodore Fete

A single beautiful moment

"Dear friends, known and unknown to me, my dear compatriots, and all the people of the world:

In the next few minutes a mighty spaceship will carry me off into the distant spaces of the universe.

What can I say to you during these last few minutes before the start? All my life now appears as a single beautiful moment to me. All I have done and lived for has been done and lived for this moment."

Yuri Gagarin, April 12, 1961

Kickstarter

Poor Forms, inspired, writes a devastatingly beautiful post riffing off of another devastatingly beautiful post by Sugar. I figure riffing off of the riff would be a good way to get this small and humble piece of the internet started, so here is some advice from myself on March 24, 2011 to myself on March 24, 2000 (when I was 22 years old). I wonder whether I'd listen to me.

Here goes:

The sooner you drop the Manichean worldview that you have right now, the better. Everybody gets treated poorly in this world (and most get treated way more poorly than you have been treated). There's nothing special about you in that regard. It's unhealthy because you're about to waste several years being trapped and static because of your attitude.

Next year, you're going to get a cushy office job that allows you to use your talents as a writer and reader. You're going to think that you don't really have to finish that bachelor's degree. This new job will not last. Finish your bachelor's degree now while you're working at the grocery store and when your hours are more flexible. Trust me on this one.

Hang out with your friends and enjoy your time with them to the fullest. People are going to move (including you). People are going to get married and have children. People are going to pursue their ambitions and goals and take on responsibilities. You won't be able to see everybody as much. Tell your friends how much you care about them.

Get over your fear of failure. It's self-destructive.

Organize a Midwest tour for the Baysayboos.

Show more caring and kindness to your parents and siblings. You're going to need them in a big way some ten years from now.

Quit smoking now. The longer you keep smoking, the more you will feel inextricably hooked to nicotine.

Spend more time listening and less time talking when you go out on a date with a woman whom you like.

Spend more time listening and less time talking when you hang out with your friends.

There are rewards to hard work. The rewards very rarely are what you had envisioned, and even more rarely are readily apparent to others. Don't let that stop you from working hard and applying yourself to something about which you care. Status and accolades are often empty signifiers.

Write this advice down in a letter, and ask someone to mail it to you on March 24, 2011. Most of this advice still will be relevant.