Ever since the shit hit the fan back in October, when the banks fell and the layoffs ensued, I’ve been quietly laughing to myself about all the brouhaha. Mostly because it was amusing to see the rest of the country experience what poor folks have been going through for years. Every time I turned around, there was another story on the news about “PEOPLE BREWING COFFEE AT HOME” instead of paying $3 for a cup at Starbucks. It was hilarious. Other headlines: “PEOPLE GROW THEIR OWN FOOD!”; “AMERICANS AREN’T GOING OUT TO EAT!”; “THEY’RE TURNING DOWN THEIR THERMOSTATS!”; “PEOPLE ARE USING BIKES AND PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION!”
My only response to this: Welcome. Welcome to a life of constraint. Welcome to a world where there is no neverending pool of money, where costs are cut at every corner, where you give up luxuries to feed your family. It’s nothing new to me, or the millions of other voiceless Americans who’ve barely been getting by on a miniscule paycheck as the cost of living has skyrocketed. It seems that this is only becoming “news” –like these poor people in Michigan who had to cancel their annual ski trip 
—because now the heavy CONSUMERS are bearing the burden. The poor in America, who have never factored into the demographics coveted by marketers, have been invisible for decades. Newsflash: we’ve been brewing coffee at home, growing our own food and avoiding eating out, checking our thermostats and using public transportation long before Bear Stearns went down.
Oh, and we’re also NOT responsible for this mess. We never got foreclosed on because we never had the money to buy a home anyway*. We weren’t putting our money in stocks nor were we making bad investments. We’ve been struggling to keep our lights on and paying off student loan debt and NOT planning vacations for years.
I truly believe this whole financial crisis is good for America. Perhaps the shock of sacrifice is owed to the fact that a good part of the country forgot what it means to live simply, to avoid excess. And this is coming from a person who spent the last eight months unemployed, living on a 40% decrease in income. I think I made it through because I was prepared for the sacrifice that comes with living under certain constraints. Perhaps it was lingering from my upbringing by a single mother who was raised by Depression-era parents. I wore second-hand clothes and played with used toys. I only knew stability in short spurts. While I hope to give my son more than I had, I would never wish on him a sense of entitlement that precludes budgets and sacrifice.
I want, more than anything, to teach my son the difference between necessity and desire. I think they call it, um…..responsibility. Yeah. That’s it. And if, as parents, we teach our children through our actions of excess, how can we expect our children to survive financial oblivion in their lifetime?
The disasters of our financial system have forced us back to reality. Maybe it will give this generation a better perspective on what’s important. A $4 latte will never give you the peace of mind that a zero balance on your credit card will. Trust.
*I’m not saying I think it’s the borrowers’ fault in every case either, there was so much predatory lending going on, it was more like a con job they fell victim to. AND if we would maybe start teaching financial responsibility in K-12 schools (WHAT?! CRAZY!) there’s a good chance a lot of people never would have fallen for it.
This is the typical banter that happens in the morning when my roommate/gay husband emerges from bed wearing only a t-shirt and manties:
Him: I can’t wear shorts at work anymore. [He works at an interior design store.] They said it’s too casual. Like I’m gonna go up to customers and be like, [Grabbing his balls and affecting a black-cent] “Y’all wanna buy a couch? Huh? Know what I’m sayin? I gotta couch for ya.”
Me: I love it when you go ghetto.
Me: If you’re working all day today and tomorrow, when are you gonna make me my damn cupcakes?
Him: Shit, I need baking pans. Text your friends!
Him: Sorry if the hallway smells like farts. (Pause) Doritos.
Me: It’s okay, boo.
Him: And they’re the kind of farts that are hot. I hate hot farts.
NOTE to my loyal readers (all two of you): Due to technical difficulties (crappy internet connection), I haven’t been able to post for a few days. But I promise my Grey Gardens review is forthcoming. Hang tight.
Patrick Tang of Ultradialectics
P.S. This is also something I will try to keep doing every week…posting an image from FFFFOUND!, “a web service that not only allows the users to post and share their favorite images found on the web, but also dynamically recommends each user’s tastes and interests for an inspirational image-bookmarking experience!!” I go to FFFFOUND! all the time when I need inspiration, and will repost whatever happens to catch my fancy every Friday. But I’m only going to post images by artists I can identify and link to. It’s only fair. Enjoy…
I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in….well…awhile.* And in between cardio and weights, I took a breather and looked around. The River Market location of Scott Fitness features local art. I’ve never been SUPER impressed by any of it. But it never sucks, all the same.
The artist featured there now really got my attention, however. Her name is Kiley Miles and her work is large-format, acrylic and collage on canvas. Lots of anatomical detail, vibrant colors and no-fuss presentation.
This was one of my favorites:
“Womb of All Ideas” Acrylic collage on canvas, 36 x 36
There’s also a review of this same show, entitled “The Human Within,” from when she showed at Coffee Girls at artkc365. Steve Brisendine writes:
Miles’ large acrylic collages fuse printed text and paint. Stories about Marcel Duchamp provide the background for a piece on imagination, while another canvas titled “Thought Process” is laden with writings on perception theory.
With all of that going on, it’s apparent that there’s a lot going on in Miles’ head, and not merely the ones she paints.
Unfortunately, Kiley doesn’t seem to have a website of her work, or any other form of social media presence as an artist. Hmmmm….perhaps she could use some PR.
*I’ve been doing hot yoga instead of traditional workouts lately, but have decided hot yoga is not right for me, it is pure masochism and makes me want to die.
So, we’ll see if I can stick with this. I will review a movie every Monday, since I pretty much always watch a movie over the weekend. The movies I’ll review will probably not be new, in-the-theater movies because that shit is expensive. Netflix is the way to go. And I don’t usually feel the need to see most movies as soon as they come out.
ANYWAY. Movie review time. I’ll try not to spoil it with anything you couldn’t find on the film’s IMDB page. Cool? Cool.
Back in December, I was having dinner with my lovely friend, Danielle, at Jerusalem Cafe in Wesport when our mutual friend, a projectionist at the Tivoli theater (also in Westport) was walking past us and stopped to rap on the window to say hello. The other thing he did was hold up a movie poster for “Let the Right One In.” He gestured to it and yelled to us that we *had* to see it. Now, when somebody who watches every decent independent film released in Kansas City tells me to see a movie, I’m gonna listen.
Fast forward a few months later, and Let the Right One In is available on Netflix. WIN.
Background: It’s Swedish. It’s subtitled. And it’s based on a novel called Låt Den Rätte Komma In by John Ajvide Lindqvist. He also did the screenplay. (More info at the IMDB page.)
The first thing that struck me about the film was the incredible shooting. Lots of tricky reflections and beautifully composed static shots. This really set the tone for introducing the main character, a 12-year-old boy named Oskar. He’s a loner. And he gets bullied by his classmates daily and comes from a broken hom. He meets Eli, the girl next door, when she moves into his apartment building. They form a bond that hinges on their mutual loneliness and inability to fit in. Eli is different. Very different. She doesn’t wear a coat or shoes when there’s snow on the ground and she is never seen during the day. She solves a Rubik’s cube instantly and her voice has the depth of a grown man.
Yes, you guessed it. She’s a vampire. And this is another tale of a mortal who falls in love with a vampire. But unlike “Twilight” (which I have only read and not seen the film adaptation), this film does not play into a bunch of vampire stereotypes that overwhelm the love story. And I can’t imagine that “Twilight the Film” could be nearly as beautiful and subtle as LTROI. This film was obviously NOT written for teenagers. Teenagers don’t tend to understand nuance. And this film does. It is dark and haunting without trying too hard to be.
Aesthetically beautiful, superbly nuanced…with excellent performances. The child actress who plays Eli has this gypsy Eurotrash thing going on that is eerily endearing. She’ll be cast in a Hollywood production soon enough. Bet on it.
I spent yesterday with my family poring over pictures of every wedding that has ever occurred in our family and getting eyeballed whenever we speculated on “who’s next” and being told by my aunt that “the pharmaceuticals industry is a great place to land a job.”
*sigh*
Being unemployed and unmarried at a family gathering is depressing. I love my family, and I know they mean well, but damn. Just because I have chosen a different path in life (i.e. my OWN choices and my OWN values) does not mean I’m just *aching* to jump onto the family bandwagon that includes getting married, moving to suburbia and working at a job where you are a cog in a machine. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I would just prefer that my life have a different context.
Thank you, concerned family members, for your encouragement. Sincerely. Especially my Grandma Lee, who I know is praying really hard for me right now. It means so much to know you’re on my side. Even though my side doesn’t involve Jesus or wedding registries or corporate name badges.
Being accepted by my family members, in spite of my resistance to join their value system, is a testament to how awesome they are. And so I’m grateful for Christian holidays in which we all gather so I can be reminded of this. Thank you, Zombie Jesus. (But, please don’t eat my brainz.)
