Friday Shoes

yellow shoes One of the few things I bought for myself before leaving France was a pair of tennis shoes. European footwear is a bit different than their American counterparts. Where our tennis shoes tend to come in either white or gray, with a flourish of brighter colors in small flashes, European shoes are often very bold, bright, and colorful.

I decided I wanted the most obnoxious pair of shoes I could find. So I got a pair of bright, neon yellow and green Adidas. They are fantastic!

As with many American companies, the workplace in which I am employed has casual Fridays. On this one day of the week, I am allowed to dress down as it were and wear blue jeans and tennis shoes.

Being that my Converse Allstars now have a big gaping hole in the sole and that I left my only other pair of tennis shoes in France, I generally wear my obnoxious Adidas on Fridays. Everybody at work loves them. They have become my Friday shoes. Without fail, every Friday many people at work comment on my Friday shoes and laugh at how bright they are.

These shoes have become such a big deal that when I don’t wear them on Fridays, everybody is disappointed. Towards the end of Autumn, I decided to wear my sandals on Friday, knowing the end of sandal season was coming soon. As soon as I stepped into the door I got a barrage of

friday shoes
“Mat, where are your Friday shoes?” Last week we got several inches of snow so I wore my bigger, more snow-worthy Doc Martens. Once again I immediately got chastised for not wearing my Friday shoes.

There’s snow on the ground, those shoes have the thinnest of all soles, and have air holes cut into them. My feet would be soaked if I wore them. These things I tried to plead as my case.

They wouldn’t listen. Like a Texas jury, they had no sympathy but only wanted to see me and my big yellow shoes.

Looks like I’ll be wearing the same shoes every Friday for the rest of my life.

The Hot Topic: Technology

From the fevered minds of a loose grouping of self-appointed cultural commentators comes a weekly side-swipe at the issues of the day, providing a pithy and often heated debate on pop culture as they see it.

This is The Hot Topic.

Burning it up this week: Technology

From: Mat Brewster
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

At my place of employment we have a strict rule about not using the internet for personal use at your desk. We have set up several computers in the break room for personal use. Last week all of these computers had to be taken out for repair. It was as if the second-coming had happened all over again. Employees were furious, literally and physically angry. Like we had intentionally taken the computers away from them as punishment, and not because they needed repair.

The other day I was standing in line at the local eatery. A young man is standing before the cashier, chatting on his cell phone. The girl behind the counter attempts several times to inquire as to what the customer’s order might be. Cell phone guy gives her an impatient – what does this simpleton want – look and continue to phone conversate. The girl persists, and the man angrily tells the person on the other side of the phone line to hold, and then orders.

When I think upon these things, and others like them, I wonder when our lives became that important. It’s not like most of us are kings and queens, presidents of the free world. Lives are not at stake here. Yet more and more we behave as if reading the newest e-mail and answering our cell phones are all important tasks that simply must be done. NOW!

Ever been on the losing end of the battle between you and a friend’s ringing cell phone? There you are chatting about Arabian policies, the meaning of jacket’s in Tolstoy’s poetry, or the fine art of dancing with tuna fish and suddenly you are forced to sit politely – if awkwardly – while your friend laughs it up with his cell phone?

Where did courtesy go?

Now, I don’t want to sound like a technophobe. I’m no hater of the new, the technological, the lights and beeps of today’s age. Cell phones are a marvel. They have helped mankind over and over again. From asking the wife which of the six different types of pesto sauce she wants when sending the husband to the grocery store; to getting on the spot directions while in the car, and even saving lives cell phones can more than justify their existence.

I flippin’ love the internet. I have a broadband connection at home and use it daily. Without it I wouldn’t be writing this piece, wouldn’t have married my wife, and would have lost, and never found many friendships. Cyberspace connects the world.

Anyone, no matter how strange, no matter how different they feel, can find someone just like them via the internet. You’re trans man or a lesbian vampire who loves cottage cheese? Come over here, join our group and meet people with the exact same interests. Yet with all of this connecting of niche’s I wonder how much of the rest of the world is being left out. Could finding sympathetic souls who understand make us less tolerable of those who just don’t get it? Could connecting online keep us disconnected to our neighbors?

From: Bennett Dawson
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

Addiction, or passion? How much of our society could be summed up under one of these labels? The normal, everyday passions (great food at a tasteful restaurant, single malt scotch, live theater, a well-directed movie, or a song that demands that you STOP and listen) are fundamentally different from the nervous dedication to a cell phone or internet connection, and should not be lumped together. One group is part of the creativity and enjoyment of life, the other is an addiction to being connected, and is one of the strange paths our world has taken. Is this a lasting phenomenon? Will our culture become ever more focused on immediate communication?

I don’t have a cell phone, and I may never get one. I’m one of those folks that has no problem letting the machine pick up a call, whether I’m busy or not. Real emergencies are rare, and most family conversations can wait a bit. Besides, there’s email now, and (no surprise) I take my time with the reply function. Why give anyone the idea that I respond quickly?

Cell phones are a mixed blessing to be sure. The example you site is outrageous, and I’d have been hard pressed not to fling a comment at the rude bastard. Driving and cell phone use is epidemic, and acts to reinforce the poor driving skills of my neighbors. If I lived in the city, where cell phone related mental lapses added up to serious congestion at an intersection that used to flow smoothly, I think I’d fall prey to road rage and high blood pressure.

Ditto trying to have a meeting or a conversation with a friend that was interrupted by cell phone calls. Who needs that? Perhaps I lack the drive; the need to talk with someone for hours about meaningless details, stuff that doesn’t add anything to the relationship or my understanding of the world. Chatter, got some? It’s like, y’know, like cool? Echhh! My son does this on the phone with his girlfriends and I have to leave the room…

But I love the connectivity of the internet, the opportunity to sell stuff to folks in other countries, to access places like Blogcritics and NASAWatch. Before the net, there was no way to do many of the things we now take for granted. Want to know the answer? It’s a few mouse clicks away. THAT is cool!

So I guess I’m willing to ignore all the rest of the nonsense that has infused our society in this digital information age, as long as I can get at all the knowledge and photographs that are part and parcel of my personal areas of interest.

From: DJ Radiohead
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

I have a love-hate relationship with technology. I curse it one minute and hail it the next. I have had a lot of trouble getting my head around this topic because I found myself to-ing and fro-ing up one side and down the other.

I love the high-tech gadgets. I have owned five iPods. I have a home theater system. My wife has my old computer because I am typing this piece on my PowerBook whilst surfing the web wirelessly… you get the idea. I love technology. I wish I had more money for more gadgets. I have been able to keep up with people with whom I would have probably lost touch. I have been able to have conversations with interesting people I have never met. I have access to information and ideas and all kinds of shit I could never have imagined accessing- and it has all become so fucking easy.

Technology has made communicating easier but has it given us any more to say? In last week’s Hot Topic, we discussed why we create. Technology has made it simpler and more efficient to air our creative wares. It has not necessarily improved them. It is so much easier to record an album today but is the music any better than it was 50 years ago? If so, is it because of the technology? In spite of it? Has it had any impact at all?

I think technology has sped the world up more than it has changed it. Technology allows us to better understand how fucked up the world always was. Technology, in the end, is just a tool. The electric guitar does not play itself and ProTools does not write dreadful songs- Jon Bon Jovi and Scott Stapp do. Cell phones are not rude. Assholes who do not know when and where to use them are rude. People have always sucked. Technology and the spread of technology have just given us new, faster, more efficient ways to suck.

I guess I sound a lot like one of the gun nuts. They say, “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people.” I say, “Technology is not bad, people are bad. And you know what? So are cell phones. Fuck them.”

From: Aaron Fleming
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

It’s interesting how technology (like so much else) can become ingrained into normal everyday activity, suddenly checking email, or checking the mobile phone for text messages becomes a regular thing.

Distracting maybe? I must confess that I waste (and I do mean waste) too much of my time sitting on the internet, aimlessly wondering around the same websites (“oh sitemeter, any new visitors? nope, aw well”), and I often feel quite dispirited afterwards (especially if it was an extra long session of nothingness). Not to say that there’s always a lack of constructive use of time, many a session on Wikipedia, or posting some new masterwork on the blog, or contributing to some fine discussion such as this here.

I guess it’s like DJ Radiohead says, technology is only a tool, and it’s down to those who use it. A good example of this, and one I’m vocal on often, is the use of CGI in film. I always slag the excessive use of CGI in film, usually with regards to crapfests like War Of The Worlds (the remake), or some other big budget flick where the only thing it has going for it is the effects. And as we know, no story, no film. Doesn’t matter how good the visual effects are, they are only a compliment (and can be a great one used properly).

And maybe we can see the pointless use of technology in cinema too. My main thinking here, and it’s one that’s humoured The Duke and I often, is the CGI deer in The Ring 2. They’re CGI! It’s not even hard to see, more obvious pixelation I’ve rarely seen. This is just laziness on the part of film makers.

Oh, there’s something else, does technology make people lazy?

Instead of travelling to someone’s house you can just call them on the phone. Then again, in this busy world, who has time for those types of shenanigans. Technology does have a rather dehumanizing effect, witness instant messaging. I use it often, and it’s great for keeping in touch with people you can’t see regularly, but I despise it. None of the natural human nuances come through in a box of text set within a computer screen. It’s very hard to be a sarcastic bastard, or to have that added effect that the like of hand gestures brings to communication.

And how are you supposed to do that thing where you look at the person you’re in discussion with and nod your head in affirming expression? Or motion towards an attractive lady and form a favorable countenance at that beheld before you?

From: Mark Saleski
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

To avoid coming across like a neo-luddite (which, believe me, may be unavoidable by the end of this bit), let me say that technological advance (or innovation) is not intrinsically good or bad. It just is. Where things go wrong is in the area of application.

On the good side, look at the world of medicine. The modern physician’s diagnostic capability via technology is simply amazing. The software engineer side of me has been involved in the development of some of these machines and, even right up close, the wonder and import is not diminished.

On the bad side, there’s technology for technology’s sake. Let’s face it, just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should. Refrigerators that keep inventory and automatically email orders to the grocer. Computers in your car that schedule appointments via the internet to the dealer. Heck, even food that’s specially constructed to be ‘conveniently’ cooked via the microwave. Convenient, yes? Tasty…NO. Oh, and here’s one of my big pet peeves: laptops at business meetings. I come across as captain luddite at meetings because I’m the only one there with a notebook and a pen. Everybody else is clacking and clicking away, supposedly taking notes but, let’s be honest here…they’re continuing the work they were doing before the meeting started, sending & receiving email, etc. They’re not mentally present. This doesn’t feel like innovation to me.

And then there’s the Internet and cell phones. Again, there’s no denying that both technologies have provided a positive impact. But there’s also the negative social consequences that Mr. Brewster brought up. As much as these things bring us together (and I am just jazzed as all hell about the fantstic collaborations, The Hot Topic surely being one, that this fascilitates), they also put around us a weird buffer of sorts. Ever see two kids driving in a car, both of ’em talking on the phone? How about a couple at a coffee shop, both staring into their own laptops?

I suppose this is some sorta new social construct that I just don’t ‘get’. So be it.

From: Eric Berlin
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Technology

Technology, in the end, means change, doesn’t it? In 2005 what we’re seeing, I think, is change driven into our hearts and homes and minds and spirits and functional utility personal space amplifiers (or what some like to call the “soul”) at an unprecedented rate. Change can be good or change can be bad, it’s all how you roll with it is how I see it.

But let me posit the bright side of the technology onslaught, if I might. Sir Fleming brings up, and very rightly so, some of the downsides of instant messaging a friend whereas, say, as little as 10 years ago one might take the extraordinary step of utilizing human-powered machine-units called “legs” to “walk” to a friend’s house, perhaps, in an act knows in some quarters as “dropping by.”

Be that as it may, technology has recently brought about new universes of communication and community theaters of the mind that were not possible even in the days of cassette tapes and space shuttles and Lee press-on nails.

Let’s take as an example this little band of souls we have right here, bandying and waxing and milking back and forth, straining wit off the muse and considering apocalyptic visions and ideas set forth with worthy visions of producing new understanding and meaning and social synergy.

In other words: we write about shit from disparate parts of the globe and collectively form and argue and forge new understandings about all manner of stuff, without (in most cases) ever having met one another. Which is pretty fucking cool, in my e-book!

So technology allows for people to find one another out there who wish to enter the digital fray for a little sparring and virtual grog swilling. The Duke a good while back said it very well in relating that there’s no longer any shame in meeting a nice young lass online these days. What are the odds of walking into a bar and meeting a chick that liked ska punk records and, importantly, could put up with your idiosyncratic and moody and oftimes megalomaniacal crap?

I got lucky there, as Fate would have it, but pretty damned low, I’d say.

Anyway, technology now allows for an easy and efficient and cheap meeting of the minds from all points of the planet. So for that, if for nothing else, I can put up with the asshole screaming into his cell phone at the head of the line to pay for whatever.

That, and deliciously imagining beating his ass with a metal pole over and over and over again.

Cling to the clang!

The Hot Topic: Creativity

From the composite intellectual consciousness of a mighty entity of social and cultural commentary comes the weekly sneering perusal of the issues of the day.

This is The Hot Topic. This week – Creativity

From: Aaron Fleming
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

The need, the desire, to partake in creative activity is something that is ingrained deep within the human psyche; it is an intrinsic part of human existence, or so it seems. Surely there’s more justification for creativity to be an integral component of the human condition, as opposed to the sorts of capitalistic consumerist banality in which life revolves around the acquisitions that we all desperately ‘need’. Here, express yourself!

Creativity is something that can give a life true meaning and enjoyment that goes beyond a superficial depth. I’m no psychologist so I won’t, and can’t, dive too deeply into that train of thought, I’d be drowning in orgones before I was even partially submerged.

Let’s define creative activity for a moment here: writing, painting, producing music, acting, photography, inventing. There are undoubtedly more, but those are enough to set the stage for discussion.

This whole blogworld thing (the blogosphere as it’s sometimes known; I think The Guardian calls it so) is in many ways a manifestation of the need for a creative outlet. It fulfills that need by providing a showcase for all us personal publishing maniacs (and also the diary need of mass narcissism).

So the question is, in this overt environment for individuals participating in creativity, what motivates you in the creative processes, any set routines or procedures, where do those ideas originate?

For me, I like to write, but why?

Catharsis, a purgation of the mind. Putting down those thoughts and ideas has an odd effect, a relief of pressure in the head, abstract or otherwise. As William S. Burroughs said: “Perhaps all pleasure is only relief.”

These things get all stored up in there, bouncing around, I’d hate to see the mess in there, ya know what those little cogitations are like, bunch of fuckers. One time I caught them in a mescaline frenzy, party poppers were everywhere, and the walls were covered in sticky-back plastic, almost a nightmare vision of Blue Peter, now that I think about it.

I don’t really have a set process for coming up with writing ideas. (I doubt many people have a prescribed course for this sort of thing.) Some ideas are kicked off by certain incidents witnessed, or discussions, or something I’ve read, or heard, or watched.

I tend to endeavor to entertain in my writing, usually trying to be funny, with elements of satire and mass exaggeration. My self-deprecating way of looking at it is that I’ve got nothing profound and ground-breaking to say, so I better attempt to humour the world.

Sometimes I’ll get an idea, often lying in bed at night in a state of petulant insomnia, and from there it will evolve and some bits and pieces will come together. Then it’ll be recalled and released into the ether at a later time. Most writing comes from a stream-of-consciousness method when it comes to that release time. And I don’t like drafting and rough versions and all that, partly to do with laziness, and also fear that I’ll do nothing more than make it worse on revision.

Also, I try and write with a nice expressive and varied vocabulary, I enjoy a good dip into the old lexicon. (What’s with all these swimming references? I can’t even swim.) This could be just pretentiousness, and it partially is, no doubt, but it’s also because I enjoy reading prose that uses more than a limited number of words and forms an interesting syntactical structure.

From: Bennett Dawson
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

I wish it was like that for me Aaron, creation and release, but I’m much more agenda-driven than creative. I’ve reached an age where one starts looking at the ledger of accomplishment, the balance sheet of impact on culture or humanity versus time spent partying, and it occurred to me that there was great potential for having a positive impact through the net, by writing about things.

The genesis for this Hot Topic conversation was Stephen King’s On Writing and his views of the creative process, and that struck a chord with me. I devoured his book, and it really pushed me to try to learn to write – to be able to use the mighty word as a lever on society.

Is it actually possible to reach across time and space to touch someone’s gray matter with the words I type? Can I paint pictures of Great Planetary Journeys in their mind, from my little desk in my little house?

If so, I need to get better at writing. It’s simple actually – just write a lot, and that’s where Blogcritics comes in. If I can develop my questionable talent here at BC, I might be able to inspire someone to take more science classes, to excel in mathematics, to push known physics, to become the best pilot in the military, to put in an extra hour checking blueprints, to become someone who helps realize the vision of getting humanity’s “eggs” into more than “one basket”.

So I write about NASA and the space programs hosted by our world’s sovereign territories. I report the news, post the photos, and try to convey the enormity of the potential. I want to get people to imagine, perchance to dream. I want people to want to see this stuff happen.

And I look forward to the day when I don’t cringe at my own posts, three days later. Juvenile! Rushed! Shallow! Incomplete! Clumsy! Fucking Stupid! Brutal self-critique when all I want to do is write clearly, succinctly, and in a voice that taps into just a little bit of the telepathy and time travel that Mr. King describes so eloquently. I’m not greedy; all I want is to paint one picture in the right head. If I can inspire just one person to start the chain of events that has an impact on the right kid…

That kid could walk on Mars.

The process of learning to write has been great, and I see improvement over the past eight months. It’s not Duke De Mondo by any stretch, but it’s better than it was… I’m actually able to write a sentence that doesn’t end up sounding stupid to my inner ear a few days after publication.

It’s coming easier, sharper at times, and I’m beginning to think that this new path was a good idea. I know my best writing is ahead of me, and some of it might actually have an impact on someone, somewhere. All I have to do, is to keep on writing.

From: Mark Saleski
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

These days, for me creativity equals writing.

Why do I write? The clichéd answer is “Because I have to.” But it’s the truth.

This wasn’t always the case with me, as the writing gig (such as it is) didn’t start happening for me until just a couple of years ago. Before that my creative outlets consisted of playing guitar in a band (instigating much improvisation, and grimacing from bandmates)) and reading.

Reading? Yes, the search for new material is never-ending. You may think of the act of consuming characters on the page as a passive activity and, until the writing thing ‘happened’, so did I. But what I discovered was that my seemingly passing thoughts on this stuff were building…and building and building. The mental backlog was there, ready to break free.

No, I didn’t always want to write. When I was a kid much time was spent reading all manner of rock (and other) yacking: Ben Fong Torres, Dave Marsh (though I can sorta do without him now), Hunter S. Thomson, and Lester Bangs. It was all ‘incoming’. If pressed to write a paper in school I would get all sweaty, invoke the Procrastination Protocol, and at some point scratch out a few pathetic pages. Not good stuff.

Many years after college and a sort of flatness became apparent. Two life situations that can surely foster the desire for that great and intangible “something else” are a fading marriage and a stuck ‘career’. I had both. It all felt very….not sure what the word would be….heavy. An explosion of incredible ugliness solved the former problem. On my own, I was left with more time to ponder things like Natalie Goldberg’s book Long Quiet Highway. Yes, a person can change their life. Yes, a person can pursue a life of writing.

But still, I did nothing.

Then Blogcritics happened.

Well, let’s give this thing a go. Let’s get over the fear of the unknown. What the hell am I going to say about this music? Do I have the words? Hmmm…I just might. Keep trying. Read more books. Stephen King’s On Writing. Anne Lamott’s Bird By Bird. All of it. More. More.

Now, to use another sort of cliché, I feel like I’ve got a freaking river running through me. It appears to be unstoppable.

Let’s just hope that I can swim.

From: Duke de Mondo
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

I think my own approach to the whole writing affair has been altered beyond all sense in the past year or so. Used to be, if I watched something, it got written about, 99% of the time. What occurred was that a lot of the time, I ended up with sorta amusing at best screeds that maybe took an hour to write an then, as Bennett says, I’d spend the next week cringing at the bastards.

Nowadays that doesn’t happen anymore, and it’s the rogue 2% of stuff that gets written about. What I sorta need to be feelin like, is like I’m attackin’ the fuckin’ keyboard. A man needs enough caffeine in the system to be able to batter the thing ruthlessly, ’til at the end there’s fifteen pages of maniacal gibberish that I’ll leave aside for a time, a day maybe, an’ go back to, edit and the like. (If anyone’s actually read my damn stuff, it may seem odd that any such cutting and pasting occurs, but it does, yes.)

As Sir Fleming muses, there’s a need to be entertaining there. I like to assume that even if folks have never heard of the record or flick in question, or, just as likely, have heard of it, but couldn’t give a half-drunk yak’s wank, they still dig the waxing in question regarding it all.

But in terms of the mechanics of the procedure, I think I need to be in some sorta mindset, usually one frazzled to fuck on caffeine an’ lust, and yeah, I need to feel like I’m carvin’ the damn words outta rock. If I find that I’m writin’ an’ every line has me pausing for a while to think of a word or something, I just quit an’ come back later, when the head is suitably lit.

The result of all this is that I, at least, dig the stuff that gets finished, even if the hard-drive creaks an’ groans an’ rattles with the weight of all the stuff on there that never got past the fifth paragraph.

And it tends to mean less output, but personally I think the output is improved, so I’m willin’ to put up with that.

In times of severe writers’ block or whatever, I need to go off with a book I know will send the psyche reelin’, usually some Hunter S Thompson or maybe Naked Lunch, something in which the language flies off the page like rifle fire, ’til half a fella’s head’s on the walls behind him.

You can’t read something like Naked Lunch and not be inspired to fling words ‘cross screen, or notepad, or whatever.

That’s another thing, actually. I find it impossible to write on anything but a computer, and it has to be my computer, also. In this back room wi’ the vibes on, and then off, and then on, ’cause sometimes a great lyric (at the minute, for example, Adam Green talking bout ‘My asshole in my mouth’) smacks a man upside the chops an he can’t concentrate.

That’s as much as I know about the whys and wherefores of the procedure, least with regards my own scrawls.

From: Greg Smyth
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

Okay, here’s my take on the whole thing…

Why do I write? There’s two answers to this I think, or at least two questions hidden in that rather innocuous query.

1. Why do we write?
2. Why does Greg write?

The first kinda informs the second so we’ll start there.

Why do we as a species, people whatever write? Because we always have. It starts pictorially with the cavemen, gets vocal sometime later, and then once a proper written language is available people start recording and so it goes. It’s not a giant leap from Dave Caveman drawing a picture of how he killed the wild boar everyone’s eating on the wall of a cave, to “the one that got away”. Add that embellishment at every level and, eventually, I’m guessing you get fiction as is. Then you eventually progress to folk tales that get (again, eventually) written down.

We write/create because it’s part of our evolution as a species and because it’s a uniquely human thing to do. We’ve got a very large brain, why not make some shit up?

Why does Greg write? The potted history goes thus: As a kid, I used to make up stories for something to do, and because, as a kid, it’s fun to make stuff up. Keeping a slightly childish approach to life helps in that respect. About the same time I got my first part-time job during my sixth year (age 16/17) I got seriously into music. Aided by the fact that a pretty decent indie record store opened up and a newly discovered love for the NME and late-night radio, I started writing some reviews.

This continues, via being the music editor of the student newspaper, throughout university. I narrowly miss out on writing for the NME though washing the car while the editor rings my mobile. Nothing happens. Currently, I’m doing some writing in an unpaid capacity for a couple of small but really rather good magazines.

Anyway, I don’t know where the creative process happens but for me I think it’s a case of letting your subconscious mind make all the connections over a (hopefully very short) period and then you sit down and write. Literally, just write it. There’s very little actual skill involved. The skill is in judicious editing and the post-production.

I’m forever reading other people’s thoughts on being a proper writer and really it boils down to that. It’s discipline, rather than skill in many cases. If you want to be a writer, then write. If you want to write a novel, then write every day. Simple.

You may, after three months, have a big pile of steaming shit and that’s when the hard work and the real art begins. Bring on The Red Pen Of Death. Cut it to bits and then write some more. Repeat until the work is Finished.

I guess it’s much easier being a critic of some description because you’re never really faced with a blank page. You’ve always got The Product to fall back on like a crutch. Being a critic is about stringing together a bunch of facts, opinions and gossip into a small, neat package. The truth is, though, that the general audience would be just as happy, if not more so, with a picture of the thing and a score out of ten.

Most people couldn’t give a shit about your opinion. Your task is to make it enjoyable enough, whether the thing is good or bad, so that for a second they do.

From: DJ Radiohead
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

Why the fuck do I do what I do? Like I haven’t been asked that 1,000 fucking times. I am more than a little intimidated having seen some of the fine attempts by the rest of this criminal element to grapple with the question but I will take my stab at it…

Expression has been a part of my personality from the word go. I have never been one to shut up – at least this is what I have come to understand from my I have always had something to say (or thought I did). I almost never leave a conversation feeling as though I said everything I intended to say. I never thought of myself as much of a writer until my mom or teachers mentioned it – same thing with public speaking/speeches/etc. I guess I was blessed with at least a nominal ability and certainly a keen interest in such things. It’s in the DNA.

Those of you who listened to Episode 6 of mine own podcast you know I have a compulsion to talk about the music that moves me (fucking self-promotion… you bet your ass). I can’t explain it. It’s just… to quote John Lee Hooker, “Let that boy boogie woogie cuz it’s in him and it’s got to come out.”

My college years were some of the best for me in this regard. I got a gig writing and editing for the campus newspaper. I even started a ‘Music’ section while I was there. I was supposed to be the news editor. I was more interested in music than I was in stories about parking spaces and mascots. It was also in college I got my first taste of big-boy, professional radio. I started out as a DJ. I also got a chance to be a cub reporter and news anchor just after college. I even hosted a 30-minute business talk show. That was more an acting job than a radio job because what I knew (know) about business could not fill a thimble.

A few months after college I took the job I have now. It is a great job and it keeps the lights on and food on the table. There is just not a whole lot of creative expression. In fact, there is no creative expression. I took the money. I sold out. I chose a life with the wife to whom I am married over the pursuit of a career in my field. Do I regret that decision? Not for a fucking minute. I did not think of it as a choice between two competing interests when I decided upon my current path. It just sort of worked out that way. I missed being in a situation where my talents and passions were engaged but if I had it to do all over again I would.

Those first few years were filled with some listless days. I had no outlet for my creative juices. The passion in me slowly diminished. I became surly- OK, surlier. I dabbled around with creating my own website. I got discouraged when I realized no one was traveling to it but me. I quit writing because I felt like I already spent enough time each day talking to myself. It was not worth the effort. I do not know if I will ever find a gig paying me to do what I love. That is no longer the most important thing to me. The internet, my website, Blogcritics… they have given me an audience as well as the opportunity to be amused, inspired, and humbled by the talents of some other folks worldwide.

I realize this is bordering on embarrassing sentimentality but allow me a quick aside: Driving home from work the other night I was chuckling about some of the pieces I read here on BC (in this case in particular something by our own beloved The Duke). As I was pulling into my apartment’s parking space I had a vision: The Duke, at age 90, sitting in the corner of some nursing home staring at nothing with an unlit cigarette dangling ‘tween his fingers muttering bitterly about some cunt named Fay-hee or Fah-hee.

Keep this in mind; I have never seen The Duke. I could not pick him out of a lineup (not that The Duke has ever had cause to be in such a thing). I laughed until at least the time it took me to walk to my front door with that image- just one part of what Blogcritics has given me. I am now a part of ‘The Brotherhood of the Bozo.’

As to where I do what I do… I have been a bit of a vagabond in that regard. I had not had a single place for to do my mad science. That changed this week when the seeds of this discussion were sewn. I heard Saleski, Berlin, et all discussing their creative spaces. It occurred to me I had no such place (some who have read my work and heard my podcast would argue I have no creativity, either)- just wherever. If I could find five undistracted minutes I would work anywhere. That is… until Monday.

I talked the ever-patient wife into buying me a small desk and re-arranging our bedroom to accommodate said desk. Last night, I penned part of my contribution to the upcoming Springsteen discussion to be featured in Mark’s Morning Listen column. I now have an actual workspace.

I am tickled shitless.

PS: Don’t worry Monsignor Berlin and Mr. Saleski: I did not tell the wife the desk was your idea.

From: Mat Brewster
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

I am first, and foremost a consumer of artistic endeavors. My home is literally littered with media of the things I love. Books, DVDs, CDs, and tapes are strewn from here to Valhalla, otherwise known as my bathroom. Every free moment that I have, I spend reading, listening, and watching nearly every kind of art form.

I try to be a critical, educated consumer. I am eternally interested in the craft behind the creation. I am fascinated by the way Martin Scorsese creates a coke-addled odyssey at the end of Goodfellas by means of rock music and fast editing. I am in awe at the means by which John Steinbeck can both fill me with utter disgust over the depravity of man, and swell my heart at the eternal spirit of mankind; all within the same page of The Grapes of Wrath. Just why is it that I weep every time I hear Johnny Cash sing “Long Black Veil”?

The ability of the artist to move those who partake in their art, in some fundamental way is nothing short of awesome.

As both a consumer of these endeavors and a student of the craft, I am often desirous to become creator.

Why do I write? In short, because it is the most accessible of the arts for me. I neither have the cash, the crew, or the equipment to make movies. I do not have either the ability or the instruments to play music. I can’t draw for crap. Yet I have a grasp of the language, and the only instruments needed to write are pen and pad.

I take some amount of pride in my ability to tell a tale. I have a small amount of gift in which to take something mundane and ordinary and turn it into a grand tale of action and humor. Though I must admit, I have struggled to transform an oral story into the written page. The gesture of the hand, and the intonation of the voice are difficult to transform into words on the page.

I must confess, I had all but given up on ever writing something worth the time of a bored gnat. The ideas were all there, but the stamina to put them down and -by gawd- edit them, never seemed to happen.

Then there was blog. My wife and I did a ten-month stint in Strasbourg, France this past year. This was at the height of the blog craze. Politicians were set spinning by bloggers worldwide. I decided to journal the experience of my time abroad through blog. At first, it was a diary, then I began inviting friends and family to read and see just what I was up to. In time, the newness of my days wore thin. No longer was the daily trip to the boulangerie for a baguette of any interest to anyone but the breadmaker.

The blog then became a place to tell stories, review movies, and discuss the book I had just read. Unknowingly, I had become a writer. Do I have dreams of becoming the next Hemmingway, Faulkner, or Steinbeck? Do I dare to believe that my little place in the blogosphere will somehow become the mecca for all great artists? No, I do not dare.

Yet, in writing, I share a little piece of myself. I become a member of a community. And in the end, that is all I need.

From: Eric Berlin
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Creativity

Looks like I’m riding in on the Hot Topic caboose once again. Great topic!

Drawing back to the good Sir Fleming’s definition of creativity, I’d actually broaden it out substantially. It always pains me to hear people say, “I’m not a creative person.” To me, that’s the same thing as I’m saying, “I’m not a passionate person – there’s nothing in the world I care about.” Sure, writing and painting and acting is “creative,” but I think any act of creating is creative.

Forming new ideas about the world, coming up with an inventive solution to a problem, figuring out the right words to form so that your date, instead of throwing Chablis in your face, laughs ever so slyly and runs her well-maintained Lee press-ons through her hair. You know; you get the picture.

In terms of my own creative process, I really subscribe to many of the ideas put forth in the brilliant On Writing, by Stephen King. (And anyone who tries to tell me that that cat ain’t creative will have one bearded mystic figure in the West to contend with, I dare say.) Ideas come from nowhere, Mr. King states, but you have to constantly and forever more be open to receiving the transmissions from the cosmos and harnessing them, wrassling them to the Junior High foam mat with heroic will and concentration, even though everything smells like old tuna and your one-piece is shifting into areas highly uncomfortable and unsettling. That’s the time to really shine, in my experience.

I also like Sir Fleming’s take on entertainment. I grew up hanging about with a bunch of guys in Long Island, New York who were (and are, I’m honored to still keep in touch with every and one) smart as hell and absolutely hell-bent on making you piss your panties with laughter at a given opportunity. Conversations were zing-fests, cut-ins and cut-overs other shouted commentary and build-upons and rising inflections and chord-shifts like songs, epic songs, kicking into high gear. Led Zeppelin’s “In My Time of Dying”, where death was laughter, if you can dig.

One day, whilst in the throes of my early 20s let’s say, I tentatively and gently placed the label of writer upon my chest, the heaviest and most serious and intensely visionary thing one can do after working all day stuffing envelopes and wishing to The Lords that you were high even though you weren’t into pot. Writers, the thought went, are serious folk. They write about serious shit, blow people’s minds and change the world and are associated with exotic symbology that eventually ends up on vintage tee-shirts that the hipster kids wear while buying far-too-expensive cocktails at the trendy-trashy lounge.

So that was going to be me, Serious Writer, with gravitas pouring out of me as though out of Kiefer Sutherland’s pretentious lips. And a ten-year quest ensued, fraught with peril and mountainous expeditions and anxiety-extra shot sessions at local coffee shops where I sweated profusely in an agony of frustration over: talk to the girl with the glasses and pretty eyes reading the fancy-looking book or write one lousy more page no one’s ever going to read, let alone care about, one or the other, man!

Now, wizened and sun-washed from years of California walks under palm trees with trusty if mischievous dog Chelsea at my side, I’m a little bit more cool with the whole deal. My creative path has taught me that I like to make the other kids laugh, and if I can’t do that at the least I aspire to be clever.

Writing is an intensely egotistic activity. Take seconds from your life to read combinations of letters and symbols and spaces that I have put in front of you. Trust me to keep you interested and things place right order in the, eh? I do it in the neurotic hope that people will trail the word path and come to the conclusion and sigh softly and take that final and best sip of that latte and say: “Wow, that was really clever.”

Pat me on my head – that’s all I can ask of the world.

A Pleasant Weekend

brown county state park

Saturday, the in-laws came up for a visit. We decided to take a picnic lunch at the Brown County State Park. Figuring this was the last weekend to catch the changing leaf colors, we hurried out even though the cloud covers looked like rain. Luckily we got no rain, and even the sun poked its head out now and again.

a road with pretty leaves

We had a very lovely picnic, with quite a spread. There was the organic, rosemary bread, honey-roasted ham, and turkey, with our choice of several fine cheeses. Amy made a little fruit bowl filled with fresh apples, walnuts, and blue cheese. We had fresh tomatoes, dill pickle kettle chips, and some chocolate no-bake cookies to top it all off. A picnic to perfection it was.

pretty trees

There wasn’t a lot of variety in the colors of the trees; we got lots of yellows and oranges, but very few shades of red. What we lacked in variety was more than made up for in brightness.

You wouldn’t know it from the drive, but the park is actually over 1,000 feet above sea level. It is often called the “little smokies” and looking down into some of the valleys I can see why. A light fog drifted over much of the thick-covered trees filling the valley and mountainside.

fall

After lunch, we took a nice 1.25-mile hike down into a valley and over to one of the two small lakes. It was a refreshing hike, and though my out-of-shape body was tired in the end, it felt good to be exercising again.

After the hike we drove around the rest of the park, stopping to take pictures at most of the sightseeing ledges, and headed home.

A lovely day it was.

The Hot Topic: The Death of Cooking

From the fevered minds of a loose grouping of self-appointed cultural commentators comes a weekly side-swipe at the issues of the day, providing a pithy and often heated debate on pop culture as they see it. Welcome, friends, to The Hot Topic…

This week’s burning issue: Do You Buy Into The Demise Of Cooking?

From: Bennett Dawson
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Microwave Foodstuff

In an age when it looks like microwavable foods are taking over the gastro tracts of the world, I wonder if I’m part of a vanishing breed that still cooks food the old-fashioned way.

Not owning a microwave, it seems to me that these little radiation ovens have created their own captive market. A market based on reducing questionable concoctions into a sterile and banal fuel for the ever-growing population of lazy lard-asses, and it makes me fear for the future of the classic, home-cooked meal.

My local supermarket is devoting increasing shelf space to brightly colored packages of food designed to be cooked only in a microwave. The cooking instructions assume that you will use a microwave, and there are no directions for using a conventional heat source. In fact, many of them have the words “Oven or stove top – not recommended”.

And I’m not talking about regular frozen vegetables here, ’cause I see nothing wrong with frozen corn or beans as a side dish if fresh veggies are out of season, and admit to being in love with Green Giant frozen Creamed Spinach. I can even go for the frozen oriental meals (just add meat) that come with an icy chunk of mystery sauce. The veggies end up soggy and bland, but sometimes the trade-off (freshness for convenience) works out. I have to admit that the pictures on the boxes are first-class, and make the food look so damn tasty! This is a marketing lie, as it never comes out looking like the picture.

But it’s the new generation of microwavable main courses that gross me out, the pre-cooked foods sitting on the shelves of the supermarket at room temperature. Some of these vacuum-wrapped entrees have chunks of chicken or beef in ’em, am I the only one who finds this disturbing?

Meat – frozen or refrigerated, okay? Room temp for weeks or months in a plastic envelope? C’mon folks, this is a crime against nature! How is this different from a can of soup, you ask? From a purely sterile point of view, it’s probably no different, but my mind rebels, knowing that a CAN is safer, more secure, and physically impenetrable. How DO they sterilize those plastic bags ‘o food?

Whenever I see a box with a plastic envelope containing “Chicken Goulash” or “Jasmine Rice With Raisins” sitting on an unrefrigerated shelf, it gives me the creeps. Check out the shelves, Rice-a-roni has a new line of pre-cooked rice in little plastic envelopes, as if cooking up Rice-a-roni was a big chore in the first place!

The new development to all of this is that the CAN is on the way out too. Yesterday I saw little boxes of soup. The same package that they use for little kids “sippy juices” is now the package for tomato soup, beef soup, and Hungarian goulash… In this room temp packaging revolution, what’s next?

I was raised in a pretty healthy food environment. Microwaves hadn’t been invented yet, and my mom was a health food nut when that sort of thing was just getting started. Raw milk, unstabilized peanut butter, real bread, and collard greens… Wonder Bread never graced the shelves in my childhood home. Instead, we had handfuls of vitamins to choke down, liver and onions, yogurt and granola. Ya know? It’s a long road from that to “just microwave and enjoy!” This said, I have enjoyed my share of microwave burritos, to the ultimate distress of my lower GI tract.

If I owned a microwave, would I feel any different? Would I trust in “the rays” to make everything safe and harmless? Would I get used to bread that felt like shoe leather in my mouth? Sauces that separate and look wrong? Meats that show no evidence of being cooked?

My ultra-healthy brother claims that microwaves remove everything that is good, all sustenance, any shred of valuable nourishment contained in food. I’m not sure if I’d go that far, but I am deeply suspicious of the changes that take place in food that gets “waved”.

How about you? Do you cook from scratch? Do you use your oven to prepare food? Do you buy your meat, vegetables, and sauces separately and put them together yourself? Do you cook for creative satisfaction? Do you cook for the flavors?

Or do you swear by the Microwave? Your culinary requirements satisfied by plastifoil envelopes of pizza pockets, eggrolls, chicken nuggets, and popcorn? Should I think about the time you’re saving, or the rising rates of colon cancer?

From: Greg Smyth
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Microwave Foodstuff

You seem to be making two main points:

1. Microwaving food is potentially unsafe

2. Convenience foods probably aren’t terribly healthy.

As for the first, the anti-microwave stance seems, to my scientific eye, to be a load of superstitious radiation bunkum. Sure, the way microwave ovens work isn’t perhaps conventionally ‘natural’ but, to my knowledge, exactly no studies comparing the effects of microwaved food against otherly-heated food in rats, humans whatever. Maybe there have been and I’ve missed them, but I’m sure that if they’d come out in the negative the popular press couldn’t have waited to run another pseudo-scientific health scare-story.

Until someone proves that a problem exists, I’m cynical (although, admittedly, the testing should have been carried out before microwaves were introduced to our daily lives). As to whether they ruin most of the nutrients in food during the cooking process, my recollection is that it does, and more so than other methods too. However, “is it safe?” and “is it healthy?” are two totally separate, though both important, issues.

Point two: are microwave meals, or any other types of convenience food, healthy? Hell, no! Even the so-called healthy options have been processed to within an inch of their lives and, I’d imagine, any nutritional content remaining is negligible. Obviously, what would be preferable is if everyone cooked low-fat, low-salt fresh food every day. But, in today’s increasingly stressed, no-time lifestyle, that’s unlikely.

Personally, I’d love to spend time making proper meals and, hell, I enjoy cooking. But, by the time I get home from the day job, cook a lovely meal from scratch, and then do the washing up, exactly when do I get to have a life outside of work and eating?!

There’s another advantage. of sorts, to ready meals, and one that might be of interest to the tubbier amongst us: portion sizing. Put simply, a ready meal is an easy way of taking in a known amount of calories, fat, salt, whatever, enabling the slower amongst us to make slightly more educated and sensible choices. That, to me, is no bad thing.

From: Mark Saleski
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Microwave Foodstuff

Hmmm, well… I’m not sure that the microwave is the culprit.

I say that only because it wasn’t, food historically-speakin’, the first step toward ‘convenience’.

TV dinners were probably the first….followed by all sortsa stuff that you could boil in a plastic pouch.

That said, there are all sorts of modern factors that push hard (maybe ‘relentlessly’ is a better word) against real food. this one is the worst:

The Demise of the Family Dinner

Kids have amazing and maddeningly complex schedules these days. A soccer practice here, a drama club rehearsal there. Couple that with the fact that both parents often hold full-time jobs outside of the home and the whole reason for owning a dining room table goes away. It’s kinda sad, really…though I don’t have any answers there.

So if kids never get into the habit of sitting down to dinner with the family, they’re not likely to value such activities later in life. Why go to the ‘hassle’ of buying flour tortillas, beef, cheese, lettuce, and whatever when you can just pop a frozen burrito into the microwave?

Me, I sure as hell cook from scratch…with as much locally grown food as I can get my hands on. But of course, I feel attached to the whole “slow food” movement in part because the family dinner was a big part of my little kid-dom and the social aspects of hanging around in the kitchen are very important to me.

Then there’s the evil of ‘corporate food’ (Chili’s, TGI Fridays, Applebees, McDonalds, KFC…blah blah blah)…lets not even go there today!

From: Mat Brewster
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Microwave Foodstuff

I’ll take my cue from Greg and divide this into two sections covering those points.

Personally, I love my microwave. The convenience far outweighs any negative aspects. Now, I’m not one of those who eats every meal via the microwave guys. In fact, I don’t really do much cooking with it at all. In a pinch, it heats the water for a cup of tea in the morning. It gives a little defrost to the meats coming out of the freezer. I prefer my soups to be cooked on the stove, but during a fast lunch break, the microwave does it just fine. And then there’s leftovers. I’ve never met a leftover that didn’t love a microwave.

I’ve heard the rumors that microwaves kill all the nutrients out of a meal, but I’ve never seen any real documentation on this. Not that I’ve really looked that hard for it. But given the choice between a microwaved bowl of minestrone that’s been zapped of all its healthiness and a Big Mac, I’ll take the minestrone every time.

As far as cooking goes, I’ve got about four good meals. Some people say they really love to cook, but I’m not one of those people. It’s just too much work. Luckily I married a lovely lady who enjoys the art of cooking. She’s got shelves full of cookbooks and enjoys spending an evening reading them and coming up with something new. I’m kind of a finicky eater, so I don’t always love the zucchini sandwiches, but I’ll suffer through a few not-so-tasty meals for the succulent surprises.

We’re slowly trying to get more natural and organic. It helps that the in-laws have a nice-sized garden and often visit with bountiful bundles of fresh vegetables. They also order in bulk from an organic co-op and fill our pantry with the overflow. The local farmer’s market also provides some healthy, tasty treats. Man, we still eat our share of convenience foods, but it’s nice to be able to eat something that isn’t so full of preservatives it will outlast the cock roaches after a nuclear disaster.

All of this reminds me of something my Belgium friend Daniel used to say.

“In America, they eat to live, in France, they live to eat.”

And though it is a broad generalization, it does sum up a large chunk of our cultural concept of eating. We’re so busy with EVERYTHING these days. We work long hours, the kids have soccer, scouts, chess club, fencing, always demanding to be driven to practice, and cheered on, and on and on, and on. Many a day I get home and the last thing I want to do is spend an hour cooking a meal, only having to clean up afterward. It is so much easier to zap a frozen pizza. It even comes in its own little throwaway plate.

Even our restaurants are convenient and fast. And I’m not just talking about Mcdonald’s here. Even your nicer, sit-down restaurants get you in and out quick. The food is pre-prepared, the cook is ready to fix the plate in under 15 minutes, and the waiters move quickly. On your lunch break? Try the Speedy Gonzoles. Catching a movie afterward? You can eat and have the check in half an hour.

Everything is prepackaged, ready to serve. They mixed the jelly with the peanut butter. Heck, they’ve even got premade PB&Js now. Soup in a bowl, frozen pizza, hamburgers, and nachos ready to go. Hit the drive-through, eat while you drive. I’m waiting for new meals in an IV. Inject straight into your stomach. Saves all that chewing and swallowing. I don’t know, it all seems a little crazy. I mean I understand how it happens. We are busy, and the food is convenient. I’m part of it. I’d like to say I cook all of my meals. I’d like to say my pantry is filled with fresh, organic foods straight from the local farmer. But that stuff aint the truth. I’m working towards that goal, but I’m a long way away.

So, do I buy into the demise of cooking? No, there are some lovely, wonderful chefs out there. Good people, cooking marvelous foods for their people. It’s more like a little secret society these days. But they are out there. Like everything else in this world, the meals can get better, but it’s gonna take work.

From: Eric Berlin
To: The Hot Topic Team
Re: Microwave Foodstuff

I’m part of the first generation that took for granted the convenience of the microwave. Whereas my parents grew up in the age of the icebox and stovetop, the “nuker” was an omnipresent fixture of my early years and remains a vital cog in my daily life.

And I fully admit that I’m addicted to the thing. From heating water in the morning for the first of two mugs of instant coffee to late-night heating of whatever happens to be lying around the old refrigerator, it’s hard for me to imagine life without easy access to heating stuff up.

My current addiction is Lean Pockets – as brilliantly over-processed and under-priced a food item as one is likely to find (someone should do a study, I say!) – particularly the Pepperoni Pizza variety. Here’s how I break it down: three minutes for the two luscious pockets (inside their cozy “protective sleeves”), then the frozen mixed vegetables for 1:45 (if I had two microwaves I could double productivity at this stage). Combine the two items and add marinara sauce (note: the sauce comes straight from the fridge, which provides a reaction in which the sauce warms up and the aforementioned and partially completed entrée cools down.

Perfection – a Blue Plate Special of the Gods, served to man for a reasonable fee on the quick.

But seriously, the processed food thing is over-the-top and a serious problem in gluttonous, convenience-addicted America. As you can see, I’m a card-carrying member of the club.

But to address your disgust of room temperature foods, Bennett: are you sure that these are items meant for the hallowed halls of microwavity? There are a bunch of products put out for campers and outdoorsy types nowadays that only require heated water. You boil water, throw it in the bag, mix up and seal, and a few minutes later you have yourself quite a tasty little dish. Seriously, I’ve had curry and stews whilst camping that is far better, dare I say, than my lovely Lean Pockets could ever aspire to.

The bloggers have had their say, now it’s your chance to chip in!

Do you cook your own food, or do you ‘wave’ your tasty morsels? Is what you eat important to you, or would you prefer to take a pill and get on with the party? Do you care? Or perhaps more importantly, could you care less?

The Hot Topic: Coffee and CDs

The Mondo Gentlemen’s Club has started a group discussion (Editors Note: we started it in 2005 and it didn’t last long). It will hopefully run weekly and be on every topic under the sun. It will be hosted each week by a different member of the club, and the topic is to their choosing.

Parental Warning: This week’s topic, and probably future topics, contain some filthy curse words you aren’t used to hearing around these parts. The Mondo Gentlemen’s Club is for adults only, so if you are underage, or offended by the humorous use of four-letter words, tune out now. Brewster’s Millions is usually a family-friendly affair, but we don’t believe in censorship, so The Duke’s beautiful, filthy tongue remains uncut.

From: Greg Smyth
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

Dear Gang,

I’ve been hanging out in my local Starbucks way too much lately and I was perusing some flyers for their latest exclusive CD offering (a hideous slight on Herbie Hancock’s genius). That set me wondering about if, were they actually selling anything I might want to purchase, would I be willing to buy my music from a coffee company?

Starbucks’ appeal is that it sells you back the very thing you can get for practically no dollars right in your own living room – a cuppa joe in a homely environment. Setting aside the deep and potentially disturbing personal problems that might make you feel the need to buy into this fake lifestyle in the first place, part and parcel of the patented Starbucks experience is the idea of fitting into this Americanized, homogenized idea of respectable alt-cool. The idea being that, if you’re in Starbucks, you’re Hip and you Belong.

So far, so much bullshit. Now, to me, Starbucks selling music isn’t actually the most devilish thing Corporate America has foisted on the world (a CLOWN, selling HAMBURGERS!? WTF?) and it fits with the whole Middle Of The Road aspirational lifestyle that also brought us GAP. The thing is, while Starbucks keeps plugging a new Alanis Morrissette album, I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass. I wouldn’t buy it if they paid me. Likewise, the whole Dylan pseudo-controversy left me nonplussed, simply because (as good as he is) Bob Dylan is part of that whole Pasteurized American Monoculture.

So, when would it start bothering me? Well, call it cultural snobbery if you like (*hands up in surrender*) but the very second they start trying to flog me something cutting edge or indie or FUCKING GOOD, then I’ll be pissed. If, assuming it ever sees the light of day, I was to walk into one of Newcastle’s multiple Starbucks and find the debut album by Babyshambles going for a tenner when you buy a Venti Decaf Mochalocofrangipanifuckaluckachino with Soya Milk. THEN, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

Good day.

From: Eric Berlin
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

I’m thrilled to be taking part in this little (dare I say alt-cool?) experiment. That said, let me hereby dish some chips as per request.

A great topic you’ve hit upon, one that’s strangely and nearly disturbingly universal: Starbucks and monoculture and coffee (ah, an item close to my heart, that) and world dominion. And music! You had my head spinning, what with memories of crisscrossing the American South in the ’90s and seeing the same set of megastores at every stop (Wal-Mart, Old Navy, K-Mart, Waffle House, next!), the first brilliant third of Fight Club, and many an afternoon huddled over a scribble pad (oh, how dark and mysterious he is, they think – writing a novel no one will ever read, let alone pay for – and drinking coffee in public, all at once!) at my local Starbucks. Well, there are technically two local Starbucks in my neighborhood, but I think you get my meaning.

And I hear you, as an avowed Starbucks junk fiend, with regard to purchasing music there. I suspect you’d agree that it would be akin to more securely and precisely positioning one’s soul over the corporate hell pits. Just one Ray Charles & Friends compilation away from eternal damnation, right? We’re all forced to toe the line in this scrambled advertisement-rich modern culture, I suppose.

The weird thing (the temptation, perhaps?) is that some of the music played at Starbucks is good. I’ve heard some great reggae and jazz and African rhythms that I’d likely never get the opportunity to experience otherwise, I’m (very) sorry to say.

So on the one hand, I might boil the Big Picture question to: how much of our souls are we willing to sell?

But then I’m forced to counter myself, Devil’s Advocate-like, with: it’s just coffee and music, so chill out, eh?

From: Aaron Fleming
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

It’s hard not to repeat the frequent rhetoric espoused by anti-corporate activists and, well, anyone in the condition of sanity, but let me begin by saying corporate powerhouses (like Starbucks) will commence with any procedure that has the chance of increasing profits, the bottom line is the most, and only, important unit in this equation. You could argue about governmental laws (national and international) but that only goes so far, and it could be easily stated that subliminal methods used in advertising/marketing/etc are much more powerful tools within the intention of profit maximization (to which I’d agree).

With vast departments of employees working in these areas, the corporations are constantly evolving and developing new strategies, no demographic or sub-culture is safe from its roaming tentacles. If I were feeling particularly anarchic right now I’d call for a major uprising to combat the machine, or at least for people to continue to strive for constructing a wall of defense against it. Of course, there is plenty of that evident in society (anti-globalization groups etc), but clearly far from enough to have any substantial effect, and, as corporate power expands, it only increases in difficulty.

So to Starbucks. This company has clearly hit gold with its image, and the proliferation of music retail is just another part of this. Eric says that he has heard decent music in the outlets, consider that another success bestowed on the heads of those advanced marketers. It’s all image construction, as is the entire “Middle Of The Road aspirational lifestyle” that Greg discusses.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not faining some personal invincibility here, I too have heard commendable music in Starbucks, and have enjoyed sitting within its stylish interiors (planned down to minuscule detail no doubt). I probably wouldn’t buy music CDs in there, that’s simply due to my musical tastes, but to use a hypothetical situation and assume there was a CD of liking seen to me, then I guess if it were a favorable price then I might indeed purchase said item.

Eric asks: how much of our souls are we willing to sell? The writhing consumerist chunk out to attain a bargain is my answer.

From: Mat Brewster
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

My initial, gut reaction is, why would anyone buy anything from Starbucks at any time? It’s a giant corporation trying to pretend it is a local, alt.cool place for hip cats. It’s a faux-trendy mega-store selling brown sludge with a 200% mark-up.

Confession #1: I don’t like coffee. I hate the look of it. I hate the smell of it. I hate the whole hipster-trendy feel of it. And I certainly, without a doubt, hate the taste of it. And for all you people out there ready to offer me the new vanilla/caramel mocho-choca-froca latee-achino with a twist, claiming it tastes just like hot chocolate and you can’t even taste the coffee – stop wasting your time. It tastes exactly like coffee, and it is all nasty. Guess what? If I want something that tastes like hot chocolate, I’ll buy some freaking hot chocolate.

The confession comes in because not liking coffee kind of puts a damper on actually wanting to go to a coffee shop. I don’t think I’ve ever actually set foot into a stand-alone Starbucks shop.

Confession #2: I have actually made a purchase at Starbucks. It wasn’t at a stand-alone Starbucks, but one of those coffee bars inside a Barnes and Noble, or Borders, or whatever giant book corporations they set up shop in. And I know, I know, giant book-selling corporations are evil too. I do frequent my fabulous local bookshop, but I still like the big corporations for the lounging, browsing opportunities they provide.

Sitting in those giant leather chairs with my Calvin and Hobbes collection, or the complete works of Raymond Chandler, I often feel the desire to have a warm, chocolaty beverage. When this happens, I have to admit, I pay way too much for a little cocoa, and sometimes that cocoa comes from a Starbucks.

Confession #3: I bought a coffee at a Starbucks just yesterday. I went through the drive-through, thus not falsifying my “never been to a stand-alone Starbucks” schpeel, and the coffee was for a friend, whom I happened to owe a couple of bucks.

Enough ranting and onto the question at hand, would I ever buy music from Starbucks? Not frequenting the franchise that is hard to answer. I honestly, didn’t even know they sold music. So, I think I’ll change it around to something like:

What if the Antichrist herself, Oprah, put one of my favorite author’s books in her book club, would I buy it?

In both cases, I think it comes down to whether or not the product is available from any other market. I’m not buying a rehashed Ray Charles greatest hits package from Starbucks, because I can get his music elsewhere. I don’t need to buy any Steinbeck from Oprah, either. There are plenty of other copies around. But if Lyle Lovett puts out a Starbucks-only disks, then I guess, I’d have to start drinking coffee.

In the end if Starbucks or Oprah are bringing wonderful artists to a broader audience than they’d ever get without them, that’s a good thing.

From: Bennet Dawson
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

You gotta look at the birthplace of Starbucks (the rainy Pacific Northwest), and the original market of the super-strong coffee industry to understand a bit about why this phenomenon has taken hold. During my days in Seattle, the chill, the numb, and the gray and cloudy week, after week. It sucks the life outta your day and you need stimulants or you will die. After a year my personal Cobainesque urge to end it all was barely held at bay by the six caffeine-charged bevies that I picked up at whatever chichi outlet happened by, and there’s one on every corner. Double shots of espresso mixed into frothy hot milk, plain dark coffee, or some choco-latte richness that sustains and excites both my body and my weather-dulled synapses.

The strong coffee addiction persists to this day, even though I’ve moved on to sunnier locales. French roast brewed strong enough to melt a plastic spoon, a Krupps Mini-Espresso Machine for those all-night jitters of creative madness, the *click* of my brain turning on (after only half a mug) in the wee hours of the morning, and the unparalleled ability of a strong “cuppa joe” to push the haze of too many late-night beers into the distant past.

All hail Caffeine! And to the purveyors of ultra-strong brews I say Thank-ya! Turkish? Oh yeah.

Living in a rural area, the closest Starbucks is now a distant hours drive. It’s tucked into the streetside corner of a Barnes & Nobles, and I see it only when looking to expand my library. But the allure is gone. The hapless yearning to meet someone interesting no longer drives my life. The biscotti beckon, but the corporate atmosphere pales when compared to the warmth and comfort of my own private place. Alas, I hear no music as I chase the register down and scoot out of the store with something guaranteed to provide hours of pleasure and escape. CD’s? Music? If they’re selling, I’m not buying.

Years ago, perhaps. But only if I was still single, still looking for the One. And only if the gal behind the counter looked like a potential snuggle. “Alternative? Sounds great!” But she’d have to smile real purty, and suggest that the purchase would bring us closer to the love, closer to the end of the numbness that comes with living in Seattle.

From: Duke DeMondo
To: The Hot Topic
Re: Coffee and CDs

What this whole brouhaha has me remembering is the time I was sat in Starbucks back in the day, sippin some gargantuan mug a foam and reading some toss or other about zombies. What happened was that next thing I knew, holy shit, it’s Cold Roses by Ryan Adams And The Cardinals blaring out the speakers!

(Well, whispering out.)

What in fucks name to do?

It felt odd, and this gets back to Greg’s concern. I don’t mind shite or at least Old Stuff That Everyone Knows fillin the airwaves in these places, but hearin the new Ryan Adams record in such a cripplingly bland, safe, pseudo-BoHo hive, it did the arse of my soul a good deal of frazzlement.

In the end, what I did was I made sure everyone could see that I knew every word, and the smugness afforded by this, well, it made it all worthwhile.

But you have to start worrying when Starbucks are endorsing records, because not only does it mean that said records have become incredibly hip amongst the kinda vacant terrors who yack about “World Music” (yeah, I’m with David Byrne on that one), but also, it means they’re probably fairly safe and unthreatening.

But part of me also thinks it’s a good thing that these cats are getting turned on to Dylan and the like whilst huddled round the tables sharing a thimble-fulla yak’s milk on account of they’re all school-kids and broke.

It’s the old Us And Them thing. I fucking hate the thought of Our Stuff being bounded ‘pon by these faceless fucks, but at the same time, I’d rather hear Ryan Adams when I’m sippin an overpriced milk / mint / caffeine abomination than, say, 50 Cent.

It would, however, pain me to find out the next Todd Snider record was only available at Starbucks, for example, because not only does it mean he’s gone back on all that leftist pot-soaked banter and instead focused on making money offa leftist-for-a-day pot-soaked posers, but it also means One Of Us has gone gotten snared by the fuckers.

It’s bad enough that Jack White’s writing songs for fucking Coke.

I mean I exist on nothing BUT Diet Coke, but God Almighty, I don’t want Jack White writing the advert music.

(And yeah, it pains me also that Ryan Adams did the GAP ad, that Dylan did Victoria’s Secret, and the whole Bill Hicks “Off the artistic roll-call forever” thing would apply if not for the fact that fuck my eyes, it’s Dylan and Ryan Adams! They can do whatever the hell they want.)

Still, I never did buy that Starbucks Dylan CD. I woulda done had it been the complete Gaslight tapes, but ten tracks when I already have the 17-track bootleg seems like a whole lotta nothing. Even WITH enhanced sound.

And I must point out that I have yet to see that Morissette record in a Starbucks, but it’s in the HMV in town. Curious…

Alas, I can’t go into the why’s and wherefores of how come I can’t get a fucking “large” anything anymore, on account of the ladies at the door needin a crate of speed for the weekend.

(Being sober has it’s advantages, since the ladies know they can trust a fella to get the job done efficiently and with little or no puke.)

On Chat, Lead Poisoning, and FBI Raids

chat pile

Ok, I have several stories that I want to tell involving a job I had several years ago. The problem is, that to make any sense of those stories you have to have some information concerning the job and what I did. So the first half of this post may be a little tedious, but it is completed with a grand tale of intrigue. Tell me you like it and I’ll fill some later posts with crazy, mad tales from the same time.

Between the years 1999-2000, I worked in NE Oklahoma, a desolate, desperate, depressed area. For the better part of the last century, this section of the country was mined for various metals, including lead. The lead mining in this community was so enormous they say there are enough underground tunnels that if you laid them all out in a straight line you would drive halfway across the country.

The displaced soil from these tunnels, what the locals call chat, and which consists mainly of small bits of rock and lead, has been piled up forming great mountain-like piles. There are large sections of the area that look a lot like the parts of Arizona and Utah that you can see in old John Wayne movies. It was really quite beautiful and spooky.

Loads of chat from these “mountains” was used throughout the community to fill in driveways, and roads, and to smooth out yards. This added to the already high levels of lead contamination in the soil, causing extensive health problems for the community.

We’ve all heard about the dangers of lead poisoning from old water pipes, paint, and even dishes. Well, this community not only had lead in all of those places, but in the very ground they walked upon, and the air that they breathed. Children are especially susceptible to lead contamination, and in fact, there was a high rate of related health problems in the area.

chat piles

The EPA (that’s Environmental Protection Agency to you non-Yanks) moved in and decided they needed to do something about it. Through the US Army Corps of Engineers, they hired the company I worked for to do the cleanup. We went to each property, tested the soil and if the soil was contaminated we removed it and backfilled it with clean soil.

My job was insurance. I came to the property before any work was done and documented any pre-existing damage to the homes inside, outside, and underneath. I took digital photos, shot videos, and filled out a long checklist documenting any damage that existed to the houses, land, and anything sitting on the land. So, if a homeowner decided to sue my company because we caused some damage to their home, we would have proof that it was damaged long before we go there.

And believe me, there was often plenty of pre-existing damage. As I said this was a very depressed area. The mining companies had long since left, leaving the few members of the community who wanted to remain with very few means of surviving.

old house

Even though we were doing about $30000 worth of work to these properties and charging the homeowners absolutely nothing (it was a superfund site meaning the $$ didn’t come from tax dollars either, but rather from donations to the EPA and from fines they had levied upon various companies) some of the homeowners hated us. To them, we were big government coming in to take over their lives. Or to a few others here was big money government whom they could sue and get rich off of. After a few months with the local paper writing semi-weekly articles on how we were causing water damage to the houses we worked on (in my inspecting I found that more than half of the homes I visited had inches of water standing under their crawlspace) the complaints from homeowners became more frequent. I once literally had to take a complaint from a lady who said there was water in her yard that morning….it had poured some 4 inches of rain that very morning!)

At any rate, tensions were pretty high between the townspeople, my company, and the federal government.

One day, while out on assignment, I heard over the walkie-talkies we used to communicate a call to one of the foremen that he needed to head back to the office. A few minutes later a similar call came to the other foremen. Then one of the Army Corps of Engineers was called back to the office.

I felt all this was peculiar, but I was a small fry in the company and continued with my work. I needed to head back to the office a bit later and did so with no worries. I imagined there was some kind of onsite accident that needed the attention of the bigger wigs.

chat pile

Since it was construction work, our onsite offices were nothing but a group of trailers. As I drove back to the office I noticed a large number of cars lining the sides of the street. This, too was a bit unusual, but not that rare. A funeral home was located nearby and periodically the streets would be lined down the road for a funeral. There were a number of people also standing by the side of the road, and though unusual, I didn’t see anything completely askew at this point.

I slowed down to make the turn into my office complex. Just as I was turning I noticed one very large man walking across the street towards my building. On the back of his jacket, in bright white letters read:

FBI

Holy crap! What is that guy doing here? I wondered.

I parked and headed to my friend Sandy’s trailer, expecting she would know something. I walked into her office only to find that Sandy was not there, instead two more, very large men with even larger pistols strapped to their sides were searching through the office.

One of them turned to me as I entered and asked very abruptly, what I wanted. I timidly said I was looking for my friend and U-turned it straight out.

When I entered my building, which was the main trailer on site I was greeted by Sandy, the project Engineer, my boss, and various other office workers. They were all lined against a wall, sitting on the floor.

Moving like ants whose hill has just been stomped on, a variety of FBI, IRS, and Federal Marshalls were zipping throughout the building. One, enormous male, stopped long enough to tell me to join the others against the wall. They were digging through all of our files, and collecting them for removal. They were even downloading everything off of our computers and confiscating the hard drives. No one would tell us precisely what they were looking for.

We were told we could not leave the premises until the search was complete.

Outside the line of cars I had seen previously, grew. Large masses of people stood across the street, staring at this circus. Media from Joplin, Missouri, and Tulsa came up with their video cameras.

At around 7 that evening the officers finally let us all go home, still not willing to tell us just what they were looking for. They had essentially stripped all of our offices of every piece of data we had used over the last couple of years.

It was several months later when I found out that one of the top folks from my company had been bilking the government out of huge sums of money. Apparently, this guy filled out work orders for things never completed. Added fake names to work lists, etc.

I believe they finally gave up on the cleanup and simply paid for everyone in the community to move. (Editors note: a few years after I wrote this a tornado ripped through town destroying just about everything.  It is now almost completely deserted).

I Quit

All last week I had to help with training some new employees. I'm not exactly sure why because there were only three of them, we have a full time trainer, and I already knew all the information that was given in class. My theory is that my boss didn't know what else to do with me, and she was too busy to give me any additional supervisor training.

Today the new employees were to come in and get right to work. One of them never showed up, and never called. This guy was sent over through one of the temporary employment agencies that we use.

Our office assistant called to the agency today to check up on the no shows status. They laughed when she called and said that they had this guys mother on the phone wanting to know why we fired him!

So this cat decided he didn't want to come to work and lied to his mother who must have been nagging him about not going to work.

"No mom, they told me not to show back up. I don't know why…"

Why bother to even come to training if you have no desire to actually do any work?

A Rude Awakening

Last night Amy and I stayed up later than usual watching movies (Amy) and enjoying our new entry into the broadband world (me). About 12:30 we found the bed to lie in and began to drift off to sleep.

Just after 1 am, the doorbell rang in three quick bursts. I had not quite fallen asleep and readily realized what the noise was, but had no intentions of doing anything about it. It was as if my barely conscience brain couldn’t process any possible reason for someone to ring my doorbell at that hour and decided it was best to pretend nothing had happened.

Amy rolled over and I knew what was coming. She was going to tell me someone rang the doorbell. While I was trying to decide what I would tell her I would do about it (nothing) she did indeed tell me that the doorbell had rang. I sighed knowing full well I would now have to get up and investigate.

As I got up, the doorbell rang again, followed by a loud pounding on the door.

I got out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and walked to the door. Running through my head were possible reasons why the bell had rung. With the exception of Amy’s folks, nobody knows where we live, and her folks certainly wouldn’t be here ringing the bell. It could be the neighbors, but it was a little late to be ringing to borrow some sugar, and any emergency would better be remedied by a call to 911 than by a ring to our door.

I began to expect some shady character at the door giving me some quick sob story so that I would open the door allowing said shady character to stick a gun in my face and rob me. I had no intention of opening that door.

I looked through the peephole and found nobody standing outside. My first reaction was to check the locks and make sure they were secure.

UNLOCKED

Both bloody locks were open! How did we forget to lock the front door on this night of all nights? As silently as I could (for this robber-killer could be standing just to the side waiting to bop me on the head) I locked the door and began imagining this goon to have already slipped inside. Could he be right behind me in the closet? No, I didn’t hear the door open after the ringing of the bells.

I checked the back door to ensure it was locked. It was. Then I began to hear sounds outside the apartment. I peeked out the window and saw a couple of people standing around. I overheard a woman saying that she was trying to rouse everybody out of bed.

I threw on my shoes and yelled to Amy to come out. This time a lady was standing in her pajamas on the front walkway. She said to me that there was a fire in the woods behind the complex and that it had caught one of the porches of the building on fire.

The fire trucks had arrived, and everyone was out in the parking lot trying to decide what to do. I decided I wanted a better view and walked through the apartment to the back porch.

FIRE

One of the porches in the apartment building next to us was ablaze. Holy Crap! That’s right next door! I yelled at Amy to come watch and like a typical male, grabbed my camera.

The firemen seemed to be standing around looking at the fire without actually doing anything to put it out. Eventually, someone came with a hose and they killed the blaze. Since the porch is nothing but wood planks they spent the next half hour with a chainsaw cutting it to bits and then hosing down the smoldering lumber.

It was a rough night’s rest after being awakened by a near disaster so close to home.

Moved In

We are finally moved into an apartment and settling in nicely. I put in my first week of work, and though it was not so fun going back to the daily grind, my job isn’t too tough so I shan’t complain much, now. We also just got the DSL hooked up so I am back online on a permanent basis.

Some changes will be happening to the blog. I’m thinking about moving completely away from the personal journal type entries. I’m thinking more along the lines of reviews, pictures, and fun stories. I’ll post more on this in a day or two, and line out some specific guidelines on what to expect at Brewster’s Millions. I know I’ve lost a lot of my non-friend readers in my long absence, but I hope to build them back up shortly.