about another dumb dream

The President was riding a missile that he ordered launched, like Major T. J. "King" Kong in Dr. Strangelove. With nothing to lose but this life, I hopped on. We soared the skies, and I looked down in fascination at the goings on below--ships sailing seas, wars being waged, people busying beaches and boardwalks. The Earth was a map. I considered our inevitable descent, and how my sense of wonder would shrink into terror and grief. The missile wavered; it would soon begin to sink, then turn slightly this way and that in a gentle turbulence. Finally, we began our approach. At 15,000 feet I bailed, foolishly thinking I might somehow escape. Pushing to the end of the map, the missile, with the President aboard, dropped sharply to Earth; but I fell off, beyond the map page. I tucked and rolled across ground, scratched to a stop, and rose to my knees. A buddy from work was there. I hugged him tearfully, tightly, sobbing, destroyed.


Note: I know that people do not generally like to hear about other people's dreams.

(posts) audio for Deicide's "Misery of One"

"Misery of One" 
   -by Deicide

Failure, claim to fame, abject the soul
Ending your own dream; you closed that door!

The end of time has come, for you and him are done
Dissension has begun 
The misery of one

Liars, petty thieves, out for their own
Sadness turns to grief; the truth now known

Now take your place with god, unburdened by your thought
You got just what you want: a life of pain and loss

Dooming oneself for one selfish belief
Only yourself by yourself was deceived
Nobody wants to remember your name
Only what if's now remain in your place
Seen for the fraud that you put on display
Live with your actions while digging your grave
Choke on the truth, slap to the face, life without you is a much better place

A wish of death; no hope for happiness
The flame of wealth no more of yours to delve

Concurred defeat is all you'll ever reach
Embraced your hell as long as time will tell
 
Failure, claim to fame, abject your souls
Ending your own dreams, you closed that door!

The end of time has come, for you and him are done
Dissension has begun
The misery of one

 

"The Wizard of Oz" and "Mad Men"

The classic film "Wizard of Oz" depicts a young farm girl journeying through the fantasy land of Oz; the highly rated TV show "Mad Men" follows Don Draper, a highly successful executive in the golden age of advertising. What do the two have in common?

Oz is a magical place; when she first awakes there, Dorothy is dazzled by all the rich color and imagination-defying people and places. But soon she encounters Oz's darker passages, the bends in the road populated by witches and angry trees. Dorothy herself is believed by the populous to be a witch capable of and gifted with extraordinary ability. But, of course, she's really just a simple farm girl. Her journey through--and eventually out of--Oz is a a journey of self discovery. The land of Oz proves to be a dream, a world of false promise. Dorothy tries to find her heart's desire only to discover she had it all along back home with her family.

Advertising in 1960s-era New York City is widely considered the industry's golden age. Don Draper starts life as dirt-poor Dick Whitman, a farm boy who spent much of his formative years meekly in a whorehouse. But during the Korean War, he takes up the identity of a fellow soldier who, unbeknownst to most of the world, actually died in combat. With this identity, and entering the world of advertising, the new Don has the chance to escape his troubled, humble past and build a new life with his confident good looks and intelligence. But the business of advertising, while high in status and flush with cash, hides a competitive world of illusion, promising a life of fulfillment and happiness that can never be delivered. Don's journey on "Mad Men" is proving to also be one of self discovery in which our protagonist returns to his roots and his family.

So Oz and advertising are both worlds of illusion. Both Dorothy and Don are thought of as something they are not. Both characters journey though a land seeking something that ultimately they had all along. Etc ... you can figure out the rest.

Notes:

• There could be (and probably are) more specific correspondences between the film and TV show. For example, Don's partners could fit the roles of the talking lion, tin man, and scarecrow; Pete Campbell is the Cowardly Lion, Roger Sterling is the Tin Man, and Peggy Olson (and maybe Joan Holloway) is the Scarecrow.
• When we last saw Don Draper, he had returned with his family to the whorehouse-home Dick Whitman grew up in. Similarly, at the end of her journey, Dorothy ends up back home in Kansas, surrounded by the family who loves her.

I don't believe it

dear prudence,

In the ensuing slump of days, moments and presence and details surrendered into the more easily categorizable "day" and "night"; one was for sleeping, the other, not sleeping. Pitifully, if only those two categories kissed in the permanent dusk of hopelessness, he could listen to Emo, maybe even enjoy it. But so relentlessly nameless were the times that nothing could be done.

Not until months later did he think to even look for her. When he did, he went about it craftily but efficiently, only looking in the most unlikely places: in the passenger seat, in the picture frame on his desk, and, early in the morning, lying next to him. Torture, a few days of this. Then he stopped and, on a sheet of wide ruled paper, wrote:

Today I listened to a song that not long ago reminded me of you. I hadn't heard it in awhile and, having come across it again, I feel now its connected not so much with you as with a time, a time that sounds ancient somehow, so I waited for dust to fill my nose.

Then I tried to think of an analogy: "You, your memory, is gum on my shoe: sticky at first, then less so, and then altogether less and less noticeable." But that sounded stupid and insulting and ugly--nothing like you. I know there is nothing like you. And I'll never not ever think of you again. I will think of you often at times, I expect. But now finally I'm getting on, I guess. Or,

But nothing else came to mind. So he folded the page, spelled her name on the front, and, with the magnet bearing the number for Poison Control, pinned the note on the refrigerator.

On the first of the month--16 days later--he restocked the refrigerator with fresh citrus and greens and a 12-pack of grape soda. Pushing closed the appliance door, he removed the note, walked to the study filing cabinet, and tucked the page away in the folder with his priciest receipts.

What is one to do with his evening

Another day--maybe I should say, a new day--begins when my bag folds down on the desk in the morning. By then I've dressed and passably groomed, slurped coffee for the weatherman and led myself to the office, but none of these welcomes a pause, not in the way a small transition can, like that moment of unburdening yourself and reckoning at the same time. Sure, would rather something somewhere else but when thinking what that might be, nothing comes to mind. Try as I might.

The next hours bring small labors: like this one character I could do without: call him Joe. If you're going to be lazy, at least be good at your job. Or be likable. Joe frequently rubs his palms together as if he's just sat down to a fine meal; given his extreme laziness, this habit is all the more offensive. And he says things about "illegals" or about how "they do things weird in California" but, sadly, he isn't from Texas where you can say such things without bitterness. Any one of his habits in isolation should be grounds for termination. But even at all that, he's easily enough ignored. Soon the hours have passed tolerably and the day's pre-existing agreement resolves itself. And then it's off.

Notes:

• In college pursue a career you think will provide the stability and money you need, then find the industry unsatisfying and after several starts fall into one that works. Marry at age 30 someone who respects you, with whom you can share affection. Have your kids, argue with them about vegetables then friends, mutually idolize each other until there's mutual respect. Feel guilty for the child who struggles into adulthood before you find relief in knowing you tried. Exchange calls with old friends twice a year, see their kids grow up in a series of postcards from 2012 to 2022, then sporadically after that. When you're older, enjoy talking to your parents. Die first.

Broken Flowers

In the film "Broken Flowers", Bill Murray plays Don Johnston. I'd guess that Murray's motivation when he plays Don is that he has no motivation at all. The woman leaving him in the film's opening describes Don as an over-the-hill Don Juan, but what's so Don Juan about him, we can't tell. Rather than impassioned and hungry, this aging man is listless and indifferent.

The stoical plot of "Broken Flowers" begins when an anonymous letter informs Don that he has a 19 year-old son who may be looking for him. This revelation leads Don's amateur sleuth neighbor to map out a quest to identify the mother. So Don reluctantly accepts this mission. On his road trip, Don reunites briefly with four women who may have sent the letter. They are his unknowing suspects; Don is their detached inquisitor. These women all respond differently: The first with familiar affection, the next with frigid nervousness, another with distanced suspicion, and the last with outward aggression. None of these encounters leads Don to identify the mother. But once back again in his home town, Don spots a young man loitering first at the bus station, then outside the diner where Don lunches. Don approaches the stranger for an impromptu sit down which ends with Don embarrassing himself and frightening off the apparently wrong young man. It may be that Don never chose to be a confirmed bachelor. It may be that he never chose anything at all. He simply stopped developing but kept being. When the film ends, we can wonder if Don has been stirred again, or we might think this fruitless search has only affirmed his negation. But wait--a strange happening just before the credits only deepens the uncertainty.

Other interpretations: (1) The amateur sleuth neighbor represents the seeker; he is one who searches for Truth. Don is the skeptic, a slightly cynical denier of Truth. But, when Don is faced with the possibility of Truth he reaches out to take hold of it, wanting. But what does it mean that Truth evades him? (2) Another interpretation (my preference): The amateur sleuth neighbor represents the person compelled to exercise power, to subject the world to his gaze and prescribe truths, thereby creating knowledge he uses as he wishes. Don neither wishes to exercise power and refuses to have power exercised on him. When he takes up the quest for power and knowledge, he finds nothing but a stretch of time that is uninterpretable and not to be used for the purposes of meaning, knowledge, and power.

"Broken Flowers" is a good film, if a little flat in its pacing. Bill Murray, of course, awards even this static character with soul.