It’s a success. The Muppets cover Nirvana now. Pearl Jam covers the Makaha Sons of Ni’ihau. We made what we wanted for everyone. You might argue it’s been co-opted. But punk is inside now. People who never would have known it have it in their awareness.
Seventy
I don’t understand why people who believe in an afterlife mourn or fear death. What does a 70-year, 70-day, 70-second lifespan mean when compared to forever?
I went to a cemetery two days ago and the marble from just 200 years ago had, by weather, been sandblasted, rendering anonymity to those lying beneath. And the flowers on the graves of the recent dead mocked the empty graves, but stronger still, mocked our hopeless, desperate grasps at permanence.
Situations
Things rarely happen in the ether. Normally, things require situations. And though some of us might lead lives that beg them to occur, sometimes what happens is the product of a situation, and not begging. Situations. Not necessarily ones that one would choose, but that were still compelling enough to choose to live by. Especially if life was the predominate choice. It all depends upon your situation. And there are lots of situations.
Automated ball-strike (ABS)
The Automated Ball-Strike (ABS) challenge system goes live this year. And as much as I hate an obviously bad call, I believe this is another step away from a tradition-based, romantic, agrarian—human!—pastime into something more sterile. I still vacillate about the pitch clock. Iʻm happy that the pointless superstitions of a lifetime .225 hitter, endlessly fidgeting with his hands in glove and feet in dirt, have been eliminated (for the most part). But you also sacrifice those aching moments, tied late with a 3-2 count and runners in scoring position, when the pitcher takes his time and draws out each pitch to whenever the hell heʻs ready. The ABS, though? Why donʻt we just build AI robots and let them perfectly play every position, while multi-camera AI umpires make perfect calls? Umpires do a very good job in real-time. And they have personalities, and thatʻs part of the game. We all know who the shitty umpires are (Angel Hernandez, anyone?), but they are easily identified and essentially ostracized. Weʻll see how it goes. My gut feeling is that we donʻt need it. My overreaction take is that this rule brings us one step closer to Skynet becoming self-aware, and deciding we are no longer the proper solution to the problem of existence.
I am gall
I’m loathe to admit when I’m wrong. Especially when I’m wrong. I only used to ever see four in the morning from the wrong side. The sunrise is just as beautiful with heavy eyelids and a racing mind. Benign reflections and genuflection come easier. Sleep is easier.
For thirty years my mantra has been furtive pleas complaining of the difficulties of sleep. Endless nights of late-night television and Netflix. And when I say nights I mean years, mean life. I don’t make it to the first commercial now.
One of my favorite lines by one of my favorite writers, Gerard Manley Hopkins speaks eloquently of my recent epiphany. I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree bitter would have me taste, my taste was me.
I’ll encapsulate for those uninterested in poetic vivisection, i.e., most. Those sleepless night you blame on the Universe? You only need look in the mirror.
Pā mai nei ka lā ma koʻu ili
I am fucking consumed with optimism, ambition, and a sense of purpose. And anger. I went to the heiau again, and the sun was drowning me in yellow rays of hope. Pā mai nei ka lā ma koʻu ʻili. Whatever isn’t forbidden is compulsory. Heads will roll, and storms will follow. But in this moment, I rule myself, and the world lies before me. And what I do next has to make a difference. Because until this moment, I have pissed on what was given to me. I make the same mistake over and over again. I know the wall is hard, but I can put my hard head through it this time. I miss my kids, and I love every single person I have ever loved. Aloha for me is not something that goes away. Not with betrayal. Not with lies. Certainly not with disappointment. Aloha means love among many other things. You don’t need to know ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi to know what it means. It’s that feeling in your chest when you pick up your daughter after her first day of kindergarten. It’s the smile that beams when you buy an unhoused kupuna a sandwich. I’m rambling, but my point is it’s all connected. Hewa in the right hand becomes hewa in the left. Aloha spreads the same way. You can’t keep it until you freely give it away.
Animal fat
I’m going to sit here and listen to pop music. Blurred lines. It is mayonnaise. Bread is easier to chew with animal fat. She would say how does meditating bring an animal fat in to your mind? Why can’t you just breathe? Count down. Okay, 100. 99. 98. 97. 96. 68. Turn the lights on. I cannot. I cannot breathe.
You are not dumb. But you are not smart. What’s upsetting to me is that you’re not concerned about what you don’t know. You like being stupid. Not stupid, ignorant. You like not knowing the answer. For me? Never. I have to know why. You? You want a dark-skinned stranger to make the margarine flat on the bread. Me? I’m looking for butter.
God
What monsters are alive right now when god is not awake? The time is short. Spacetime is a difficult concept. Matter bends spacetime in a way that’s difficult to wrap your mind around. Matter moves spacetime. More matter, more movement. But your and my time is short. We don’t live in the capacity of spacetime. I mean, we do, but our capacity to understand can only see years. Minutes. Sometimes, seconds make a difference in our understanding. Time, as we speak about it, though, is a human construct.
We talk about what I would do if Hitler were alive. Read. Read. And then read. Know. They aren’t putting Jews in an oven. But this is what happens first.
Consensus
The thing about doing the right thing. You’re probably going to piss someone off. There is no consensus. Think about it. What question has a consensus answer? Beatles or Stones? Creamy or chunky? Tits or ass? You want to go a little deeper? Buddha or Jesus? They both kind of said the same thing. There is no such thing as everyone agrees unless someone with a gun is pointing it and saying, “Agree!” At that point, come on. I’ll say anything with a gun in my face or a knife at my throat. The irony is we’re all the same. We’re all exactly the same. There were different traumas along the way. We’re all verily, similarly fucked up. In the same way, when you watch Discovery, and you thought chimpanzees were herbivores, and then they rip a monkey’s head off. I mean, you understand they have to eat, but that was violent in a way you don’t learn at the zoo.
Thatʻs not funny
These jokes are funny only if someone doesn’t know you. When they know you’re not lying. When they know it’s the truth. The irony is that’s what’s funny. Lies aren’t funny. You laugh at a clown because he painted a face over the truth. When you know the clown, it’s not haha funny. The paint comes off sooner or later.