This Movie Was Just What I Needed

Republican Presidential Slogan 2012

Since the republican presidential candidates all love referring to the bible--and all seem to want to dismantle the welfare state--I think the following would be a good campaign slogan for whoever wins the primary:

Republican Candidate, 2012: "Am I My Brother's Keeper?"

Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

As Thanksgiving approaches, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few scenes from my favorite movie of all time:

"I want a fucking car, right. fucking. now"



"You're going the wrong way! You're going to kill somebody!"



"You wanna hurt me?" A funny movie with a big heart that reveals its depth early:



You'll never beat Kevin Bacon in a race for a taxi cab:



and, the scene that never fails to make me cry:

Drinking the Mortal Brew: Come Join Our Hopeless Cause

"Some men spend their whole life furnishing for themselves the things proper to life without realizing that at our birth each of us was poured a mortal brew to drink" ~ Epicurus, 30th Vatican Saying.

"Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully." ~ Samuel Johnson

I have a disease that is eating away my intestines. It has spread to my stomach, created great ulcers, and has the potential to eventually form a cancer that will kill me. I'm sorry to bring it up, but it's a fact. There's often a mild pain in my gut that reminds me that I'm not immortal. I'm thankful for it. I may not die from this specific condition, but I will die somehow; this is a fact that can be forgotten as we carry on with our day-to-day business.

In my best moments, I am always trying to affirm life--always reminding myself to appreciate clouds and bright Autumn leaves and the sight of children playing; but it's impossible to affirm life without factoring in decay. After all, clouds dissipate. Leaves fall, children grow into adults, and adults grow old and die.

It's good to remember death. We are all dying. We are all transitioning. We are short, strange bursts of energy, and we are as alone as we are together. It's humbling to realize that one day all memory of us will be erased. These words, and the handful of people who read them, will be gone. There will be a world that doesn't know Shakespeare. One day, there will be no world at all. While we're alive, we're those brightly burning Autumn leaves.

So, if all of our work amounts to stitches in a great fabric that will one day be unwoven, why work? And if our lights will one day go out, what difference does it make when they go out?

Of all the advice I've received on this issue, I think Albert Camus puts it in the best (and possibly least comforting) way:

"The absurd man will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions ... and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the "divine irresponsibility" of the condemned man"

I guess the reason we keep going on is because we can, as an act of sheer will in a mechanical and impersonal universe. We provide the universe with the personal. Our lights will go out, and we will accept the extinguishing when it comes, but until then we will persist, because we can. And we will do good work because there is nothing else worth doing. If we're all residents of the Titanic, what's the point in pillaging the rooms of rich evacuees and transporting the goods they left behind to our own rooms, which are rapidly filling with icy water? The only thing worth doing is good. We will play our instruments as the ship goes down. We will help others to higher ground while there is higher ground to go to. We will value each other as intensely as we can in this moment, because our last moment is rapidly approaching.



for more posts in this series, click here.

Voted

No on Issue 2 (Ohio's infamous Senate Bill 5), No on Issue 3 (tea party backed initiative to allow Ohio to opt out of 'Obamacare'), yes on my school district's levy (because my kids need art, music, and gym, goddammit), and I wrote Hunter S. Thompson in for the board of education. So, if things go the way I want them to, union bosses will be running through the streets naked & insane with power, Ohioans will be stuck with death panels & long lines at the doctor's office, and all of my neighbors will have to pay higher taxes just so my kids can do a little finger painting during school hours.

I have done my civic duty for the day.

PS: you would think death panels would shorten the lines at the doctor's office, but I guess government isn't efficient at anything.

Why Should I Cry For You?

This is a great version of what is easily my favorite Sting song:



Men are brought up in my culture to be very low in emotional intelligence, and when I discovered (around 15 or 16) that Sting wrote this song about his father, I was surprised and intrigued. Lines like 'sometimes I see your face/stars seem to lose their place' aren't written for fathers! We write lines like that for girls that we want to fuck.

In my cultural context, guys aren't supposed to be sentimental about each other. We're not supposed to love one another. Fathers raise their sons to be soldiers, and sons raise their sons to be soldiers. Creatures of mere utility. Like replaceable liners for garbage cans. I know I don't want to raise my children like that, and I know that I can't be reduced to some utilitarian function. I love my boys, and I want them to feel comfortable loving me.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to write this post. Maybe I need some more years on me before I'll be able to make enough sense of this subject to talk about it. Maybe it will never make enough sense to talk about. All I know is that life is short, and there are aspects of it that can be difficult to understand. Our relationships are constantly evolving, and if we don't pay attention to them, they can atrophy.

I'm glad to be a father, whatever that means. I think it's supposed to be a support role. As our father below did, I suspect I'm responsible for sharing some kind of illumination with my children; some kind of hard-won knowledge plucked from the tree of my experience. I think fatherhood is about stories, and games, and openness, and daydreaming; but also discipline, and hard work. Christ, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

October, Cincinnati, 2011

A few snapshots from my 5 day interlude...

the structure at friendship park by the Ohio river:

inside the structure:

getting rid of some unwanted furniture in the fire pit in my backyard:

it's easy to take nice pictures when everything is naturally well lit:

corn maze at Shaw's Farm:

laying on my back on one of the supports on my front porch, looking up. Half sky, half roof:

"Everyone learns faster on fire"

Some Truth About Kids & Parents

“The more boring a child is, the more the parents, when showing off the child, receive adulation for being good parents — because they have a tame child-creature in their house.” ~ Frank Zappa

Getting Some Love From The Friendly Atheist...

here.

New Approach Needed In Care For The Mentally Ill

Check out my piece at the Cincinnati Enquirer.

There is a division in thinking among mental health service providers and civil rights activists that has led to stagnation rather than solutions.

We have advocates for civil liberties who have decided that principle should overcome pragmatism when it comes to involuntary committal and treatment of mentally ill individuals. The threat that untreated severely mentally ill individuals pose to themselves and others is viewed as secondary to the principled assertion that all should be able to self determine. This is the position that is endorsed by law and ethical standards in the United States.

On the other hand we have people who believe that severely mentally ill individuals are incapable of self determination while under the influence of their illness, and should be - in the name of their own well being and the well being of others - able to be committed or forced to receive treatment, so that their ability to self determine can be returned to them.

Both of these positions are principled and can be understood from various vantage points. Protecting the rights of those who are least able to advocate for themselves is a hallmark of the human services and liberal movements and should continue to be so. The principle that underlies the current law and popular thinking is admirable; but it has left a vacuum in care for individuals who are unable to self determine under the burden of their mental health issues.

Cincinnati's Drop Inn Center has a safe shelter for individuals experiencing homelessness to stay in, and - hopefully - to receive further appropriate services. A large portion of the population at the safe shelter could be classified as the "most difficult to serve." These are individuals who are experiencing various degrees of behavioral decline as a function of either substance abuse or mental illness. Among this population is a sub-group of individuals whose behavior is such that - for the safety and peace of mind of other residents of this shelter - they must be asked to leave until they have received treatment that would allow them to function passably within the community.

When these individuals are not in the safe shelter, they are roaming the streets. They're sleeping under bridges, on benches, in doorways, or in the jail house, because their behavior has caused them to break a law that has led to their arrest. It is possible for mental health agencies or police to "put a hold" on a person (requiring police to take them to the hospital for observation for up to 72 hours), but treatment cannot be administered without permission. Often these individuals are released to the street for the cycle to begin again, often only stopping when a severe enough crime is committed to warrant sending them to prison for prolonged periods of time.

This is unacceptable, but the solution to this problem need not be a full reversal of important civil rights victories.

What is needed is a forum. That's what I hope to achieve in my city. A forum where all of the players from all of the human services and civil rights organizations sit down and seek to address this unfortunate - and unintended - consequence of progress.

The solution may be something as simple as an extension of the allowed hold time in the psychiatric ward at the local hospital to the creation of more housing options with wrap-around services for those suffering from severe mental illness. Maybe our governing bodies should direct more funds toward our city's safe shelters so that we can adequately staff them with trained psychiatric staff. Maybe a middle ground can be found on the issue of involuntary committal and treatment. These are just a few ideas.

Whatever the solution is, it won't be discovered in silence. Hopefully by mobilizing a base of concerned service providers and advocates, we can start a discussion that will lead to real solutions for the populations we care for, and the communities we live and work in.

Hunter S. Thompson Knew Why The Media Doesn't Work

"The most consistent and ultimately damaging failure of political journalism in America has its roots in the clubby/cocktail personal relationships that inevitably develop between politicians and journalists--in Washington or anywhere else they meet on a day-to-day basis. When professional antagonists become after-hours drinking buddies, they are not likely to turn each other in...especially not for 'minor infractions' of rules that neither side takes seriously; and on the rare occasions when minor infractions suddenly become major, there is panic on both ends." ~ Hunter S. Thompson, p. 194 'The Great Shark Hunt'

That's right. Conflict breeds creation. Sometimes we need to shout and bruise, and get shouted at and bruised. A person without enemies isn't doing anything important.

Bad Lip Reading: Mitt Romney

This is the funniest thing I've ever, ever seen.



t/y Andrew Sullivan

October Soundtrack, part 2

1. Bill Frisell, Keep Your Eyes Open



2. Boccherini, Night Music Of the Streets Of Madrid, Opus 30



3. Bright Eyes, We Are Nowhere & It's Now



4. First Aid Kit, Hard Believer



5. David Bowie, All The Young Dudes




6. OK Go, End Love



7. King Curtis, Memphis Soul Stew



8. R.L. Burnside, Shake'Em On Down



9. Medeski, Martin, and Wood, End Of The World



10. John Zorn, Little Bittern



11. Tom Waits, Come On Up To The House

The History Of My Love Life, part 1

This was my first girlfriend's favorite song. I was in 3rd grade, and she was in 4th grade. She broke up with me because I told some neighbor kids we were going out. The relationship lasted for about a week in the summertime, and the high point was when we walked down to the 'dead end' (a place on our street where two roads that once connected were divided by a  manufactured hill, some trees, and a big yellow rail) and held hands.

It was later on in the very same summer that this girl and I got into a fist fight on the sidewalk, over something I can't remember. She was tall and lanky, and I was short and pudgy. She ended up on top of me, wailing me as I tried to get back up. My next door neighbor's dad came home from work and yelled at us to cut it out through his car window as he pulled onto our street. She got off me, and I got up, brushed myself off, and said to my neighbor, 'you just saved her a whole lot of trouble'. And he said--with a voice pregnant with sarcasm--'Yeah, it looks like it'.

Why I Still Read Lovecraft (In Spite Of His Racism)

I was going through the 'likes' over at Greater Than Lapsed, and came across the following post from a blog called wtfwhiteprivilege:

"Just so we're clear: Lovecraft's racism doesn't make his work null and void. I just won't be reading any of it.

I think about what it would mean to have his work on my bookshelf. I am not a person of color, but my children will be.

What if they were to find that poem? What if they came to me,

“Mama, look at this. Did you know about this?”

I’m not going to lie to them, yes I did know. I disregarded what this man thought about my children for the sake of art. I knowingly read to them from a book by a person who thought they were sub-human. I hurt my children. Do you really think saying,

“Well, the author’s beliefs are separate from his work” is going to undo that hurt? Really?

Didn’t think so."

I am a big fan of H.P. Lovecraft's writing, and I am a white person (in a relationship with a white woman, with whom I have 3 white children). I am also aware of Lovecraft's racism, and have had to think about whether or not it should be cause not to read him. Although I can sympathize with quotation above, I don't think Lovecraft's racism is a deal breaker; not because I support the view that we should separate artists' biography and psychology from their work--I don't--but because I think H.P. Lovecraft's racism was a byproduct of his mental illness, and what we get when we read Lovecraft is a trip through the mind of a mentally ill man. To me, Lovecraft's work is in it's very essence a manifestation of his psychology and biography.  Anyone who has experienced isolation, fear of 'the other' ( I hate that phrase), paranoia, or morbid fears of any kind should recognize what is truly chilling about Lovecraft's work.

I should clarify that I don't find his work appealing in the voyeuristic way some folks find Wesley Willis appealing; I think Lovecraft was a true artist--not a sideshow act to gawk and laugh at. Through his art, he gave expression to his deepest fears and neuroses, and allows us to experience a taste of them when we read his work. I also believe that Lovecraft used art--as many mentally ill people do--as therapy, and what we witness in his writing is a kind of momentary exorcism.

So his racism doesn't bother me; not because I separate it from his work, but because I understand it in the context of his psychology, and his biography. If I ever had to answer the kind of hypothetical question the writer of the above quote imagined their young bi-racial child asking them, I hope this explanation would suffice.

A Cinderella Story. Outta Nowhere.

Every Fall I take my kids to Alms Park in Cincinnati to catch leaves as they fall from the trees. The story I used to tell them was that fairies would unhinge the leaves from the trees and ride them down to the ground; if we caught the leaves before they hit the ground, we might also catch a fairy.

Over the years the story part of it has kind of faded away, and we just catch leaves. In this video, we are waiting for the wind to pick up to blow some of them around. Suddenly a leaf comes loose, and an epic race against time and gravity occurs. Not for any real sports fan to miss!

If Hollywood Has Taught Me Anything...

it's that you'll never go broke making white liberals feel good about themselves.

10.5.11

I love this fucking weather. It's impossible for me to talk about how Fall makes me feel without swearing. It's just a great fucking time of year that makes me feel fucking great.

I sat out on the front porch reading one of Henry Rollins's travel journals, drinking coffee, and listening to birds chirp to each other. Every now and then the wind blows, and because the leaves are all dying they get this rattling sound that I like.

The weather could even get a little cooler and still be to my liking. Since I work at the shelter now, my joy in cool weather is a little tinged by the knowledge that cold weather is not as welcome to citizens who have to sleep out on the streets, or do most of their business outside. Knowledge will do that to you; there's an up and down side to everything.

But I'm excited about the weather because it fills me with energy. I think our city is better prepared to deal with the cold weather this year too; we're going to have a cold shelter open every night, rather than just on the coldest nights. This will be a big boon for citizens who have to sleep outside. It will also be a big boon for the human services, because it will give us a chance to engage folks who we otherwise might not have a chance to engage; everyone will--hopefully--be persuaded to sleep in a shelter, so everyone will be in only a few places; this should make it easier for outreach workers to connect with people, and collect their information so they can help them find appropriate services.

I'm also glad during weather like this that i'm not bogged down with too many obligations outside of work and family. It took me 8 years to get my psych. degree, and I was working full time and going to school (mostly) full time the whole time. It's been two years, but I'm still grateful for my downtime. I want to make the best of it, because people weren't kidding me when they warned me my kids would grow up fast. In the short time that I have, I want to help them enjoy themselves and learn as much as possible.

Pascal's Wager: Easy To See Through, Hard To Resist

Pretty much everyone openly admits that Pascal's wager is a lame and cynical path to religious faith. It's cynical in that it assumes God would be impressed by such a hollow kind of endorsement, and it's lame because it's so fearful, and requires no real thought to commit to. For a thorough dismantling of this cop-out, check out my friend Bridget McKinney's piece over at Greater Than Lapsed.

Even though it's pretty much dismissed publicly by anyone with even the smallest shred of sophistication, I submit that privately, it's adhered to quite often, and quite fiercely.

Hell is a scary prospect, and so is the thought of transitioning from a religious orientation to a reason-based orientation (this is particularly true for folks who are making their living in the religion business). Because we all realize that pascal's wager is bullshit, we need to trick ourselves into believing we're not subscribing to it when--in reality--we are. This turns out to be something that humans are particularly good at.

If privately we take Pascal's gambit and publicly declare that our faith is genuine, we still need to take measures to ensure that our case for belief appears feasible, or, if not feasible, then at least impenetrable. This is achieved through religious obscurantism, which is a well documented tool of the faithful.

When you hear really smart people saying very opaque things in defense of their faith, it is by design, conscious or subconscious. It allows them to keep their (conscious or subconscious) investment in pascal's wager.

So since we're all a bunch of gamblers when it gets down to it, I'd like to offer an alternative to all of the folks who publicly (and privately) take Pascal's wager. It's called 'Troxell's Wager', and it goes something like this:

If there's a god, and if that god is good, he/she is not going to send you to hell for unbelief. If there is no god and you don't believe, then you spare yourself the misery of trying to make heads and tails out of a bunch of religious bullshit during your life, and you still won't go to hell. So don't believe in god, and save yourself a lot of trouble.

I think this is as good a proposal as Pascal's, maybe even better, because it frees you up on Sundays.