Politics

     I have come to a conclusion recently to actively attempt to disengage myself from politics.
     People of all positions sit around and complain about one administration or another, often motivated more by their biases and emotion. People have turned a multi-facited world into a false dichotomy, a fictional "Culture War" of Republicans vs. Democrats. We live in an America where one's ethnicity, class, or religion do not necessitate one's party alliance. Part of the reason for this I believe is because people are no longer limited to the geographical area of their birth or the trade of their father (if male) or motherhood (if female.) Although the United States is a classist society with a large gap between the rich and poor, there is a tremendous potential to follow your dreams.
     That's what I think is most important.
     I believe that every human being has a potential inside of them, an end goal, a teleology, and it is either society that dampers that human spirit, or guides it. I believe that if each of us became fully in-tuned with that driving vision within them, that we would be in a much better world.
     I was blessed from my birth to be in a position to be able to follow this inner light, and I believe that to follow it is not selfish act, but rather a manifestation of what I as a human being ought to do.
     If any good comes from my life, it will not be because of the rambling political opinions I shouted at another equally uninformed person, but from my true life work.

The Word "Pretentious"

When it comes to film/music/theatre/literature critique, I am a big believer that one's criticisms need to have an element of falsifisity. Instead of just saying, "The vision of this film was totally wack! Don't see it!" write something like, "This film's color pallet is very limited, making it seem monotonous. The camera operators failed to carefully dipect the action, making it seem too much like The Blair Witch Project when all the scene needed was a steady-cam shot." My point here is that if one is going to criticize, one ought to give support for their arguments.
     The word "pretentious" is used often to criticize art, but is almost completely baseless, and does not fit well into an argument about a work's quality. Any sort of work that aspires to something grand in vision will almost always be attacked as pretentious, but that tells me nothing about the actual work itself. Music critics ruteenly call indie music bands like Radiohead, Arcade Fire, Of Montreal etc. pretentious, but these same critics fail to give a counter-example of un-pretentious music. Is Johnny Cash un-pretentious? His six-part American album series, with two instalments coming out after his death, seem pretty grand in vision, that might very well be pretentious. U2 has recieved the pretentious lable, but I suspect that comes more as a criticism of Bono's activism. Once again, that tells me nothing about the music; music should be judged by the quality of the music, not by the identity and actions of the band.
     This is the same story with film and literature. Every indie filmmaker with a vision to make something good must deal with the baseless and meaningless criticism of preteniousness. What about Spielberg's ET? Wasn't that pretentious to make a kids' movie about an Alien that symbolizes Jesus? Wasn't Orson Welles pretentious to make such a long, epic movie like Citizen Kane when he was 25? No, but Quentin Tarentino was pretentious making a self-referential genre film like Pulp Fiction?
     I request everybody to stop using the "P" word and instead base their critique on objective observations.

Poem for my Chaplain

Here is a poem I wrote for my chaplain Fr. Tom Ferguson, who has just accepted a position as dean of Bexley Hall seminary in Ohio for the Episcopal church. This is his "Graduation" poem.

To our Chaplain

I’ve seen the best minds in my generation done-in,
enamored by their liberation
within the college basin of sin,
baptized too fast in alcohol libations.
But where amongst the nameless crowds,
girdled thick by the debauchery,
could I find a place not too proud
to let me join their comradery?
St. Francis House! (Find us with Ariadne’s spool.)
I knew right in those Eucharist crumbs:
The greatest trick the devil pulls
is telling students not to come.
In Soviet Union’s disarray
you found hope past the bleak and scoff,
I feel our God on Ash Wednesday
as you mark my brow like Gorbachev.
Religion seems at times so weird,
but then I see you in your robes
my creeping doubt has disappeared:
Jesus died for sins, not frontal lobes.
For all you do, your sanity remains.
How do you keep Malcolm gently coerced?
You an immovable object, as he runs figure-Eights,
I take him as the unstoppable force.
For “educating us straight to hell,”
enduring all of this monotony
to lead us well andcome to help
us kids from fly-over country,
I give you my acclaim for working with God,
and maintaining a building so old,
well-versed in bat-bagging, Jason Todd,
and fighting radon and toxic mold.
“The past is prologue,”I must concur,
I leave you with a final thing,
I’m fond of this one song I did hear
and times like now, weought to sing:
“On Jordan’s banks the Baptists cry,
announcing that their Lord is nigh.
Oh, but the Baptists have no fun,
thank God I am an Anglican.”