Bachelorette Wipeout

Frank:

If the main idea in life is to have as much fun for as long as possible, I'd say the gated community golf course types down in Florida are probably on the right track.  Sure, it's not Love Boat, but it's pretty much the same idea... a well-designed plan for trying to be carefree and fun as much as possible, in a vacation-like setting, that takes into consideration the fact that the people are now old and unattractive to most of society.  So build a wall and keep most of society out, and establish a new society where age is in, and fun and games are still where it's at.  I mean, you've got to hand it to these people, they have moved on and are doing their best with the hand they've been dealt.  I'm sure the alcohol flows pretty freely in there, and that they do their best to make it Love Boat-like.

Yes, the Bachelorette.  The only thing is, now that I've seen an hour of it, I feel like I've experienced about 95% of what the show is all about and I don't need to spend an inordinate amount of time getting the rest of the details of what happens from here on out.  The drama of the roses, the weird, schmaltzy dramatic music that almost makes it seem like it's all some kind of ironic spoof, the secret visits, the passionate kisses.  Sure, I don't know who will get chosen in the end, but I think I got a decent bang for my hour of viewing.  You could even say it was a good investment of my time. After that, though, it's a definitely a matter of diminishing returns.  I've seen what the dog looks like, I don't need to spend twelve more hours inspecting each square inch of its fur with a magnifying glass.  Peggy, on the other hand, did not get much out of her time with the show.  She was asleep after about five minutes.  So, what other shows should I watch one episode of, just to get my finger on the pulse of America? This is a real question; I'm asking for the names of more important shows. Actually, I did notice they had advertisements for another show-- Wipeout, and I thought, "Now that's entertainment!"  The beauty of Wipeout is that it makes no pretensions that it's anything more than a big steaming pile of dog shit, which makes it charming and admirable in a way.  Not that I actually watch it, but I have fond memories of watching it with Katherine one time when she was here on a visit.

I see that Obama has done some "executive privilege" thing to keep Eric Holder from being held in contempt in the "Fast and Furious" case.  Well, that will get the conservatives whirling on their heads in rage, no doubt, like old white break dancers, which will be a lot of fun for them.  I don't even know what this whole "Fast and Furious" thing is about, but I know it's very, very important to the Fox News republicans.  It's the headline item day after day on the online Fox website, while the New York Times airily ignores the whole thing.  Here.... let's just see what Fox has to say now....  Ah, here's the most recent headline:  "WHY is the White House Hiding Details of Agent's Death?"  Yes, that sounds about right.  Do you know about the Fast and Furious tempest?  I'm sure if I were a tea party type, I would be outraged over it, too, and the fact that all the "liberal" media are choosing to ignore this important story-of-the-century.

I was looking for something to read on the trip, and Peggy suggested a book called Be Fearless: Change Your Life in 28 Days.  So maybe I'll read that.  When I see you, we will both be experts in confronting fear.  Do the have some sort of Niagara Falls-type place near you, that we can go over in a barrel?

--edward

Donkeys on Pleasure Island

Frank:

Well, gee, that's interesting how you have thrived in these jobs where it's basically a lot of young people partying and having fun in a vacation-like atmosphere.  I would really suck in a situation like that.  I would become more and more morose and difficult, casting a pall wherever I went.  I wouldn't last long, or rather, I wouldn't be hired in the first place.  It's pretty good that you continued to do well in a job like that, fairly recently, the Park City job.  What were you at that point, fifty?

If that's the environment where you feel at your best,  I have no idea what the next step is.  Those jobs sound to me like "Pleasure Island" in Pinocchio, where all the boys all run off to the fun theme park and become donkeys.  I'm not sure what happens when you're a donkey and you're in your mid-fifties, but I'd imagine you're not welcome at Pleasure Island any more, except maybe as a maintenance guy, somebody a moralist can point to and say "So, boys, you see what happens if you run off to Pleasure Island?"  But then, middle age is where a whole lot of people have to make difficult transitions, so you're certainly not the only one.  The unfortunate thing is that you are now afflicted with this discomfort around people, so I'm assuming that even if you found a Pleasure Island for people in their mid-fifties, you still wouldn't be interested.  

Well, I can see why you like television, anyway, because television is mostly all based on watching supposedly attractive young people running around, partying in a vacation-like setting. It's like being part of the gang again, except you're only watching. You will be interested to know that we watched the last hour of "The Bachelorette" last night -- we were in between DVD's.  Wow, that's all I can say.  Where do they get these people?  It's like they've all being given some kind of steroids that take whatever physical features are considered handsome or pretty in American TV culture, and they exaggerate those features to a preposterous, laughable degree -- kind of like Dudley Do-Right, with his overdone cleft chin -- and they they hair gel all these monsters and ship them off to Croatia, give them unlimited alcohol, and then….. shit.  All I can say is, who needs LSD?

Speaking of Croatia, maybe you could become a vampire.  I think that's pretty much the background on most vampires… they spent their early lives partying at some Transylvanian resort, until the awful day comes when they realize they are getting old, and the carefree babes don't feel carefree around them any more.  So they become vampires.  Have you tried biting a young woman on the neck?

I wonder if you can make the transition from having fun being around young, attractive people, to having fun being around middle-aged, not-so-attractive people?  That pretty much sounds like the crux of the matter to me. 

Okay, so I understand I'll be in Tahoe at a time when it's not at its best, the weekend.  That's okay, as long as I don't get run over by an RV or something.   

--edward

Melanie and her Shame Exile take LSD

Frank:

I distinctly remember the point in Self Therapy where I said, "Okay, I quit."  It was the heading: "Melanie Reparents and Retrieves the Shame Exile," along with an illustration captioned "Melanie brings her Shame Exile into a forest."  That pretty much did it for me.  I was already teetering on the edge of pushing the eject button, because of the repeated references to Lisa's dealing with the "Sooty Demon."

Okay, so I'm thinking of your depiction of yourself in seventh grade as a shy, isolated person who just wanted to be left alone.  Flash forward to 1981, where you've just had an "adventure summer in Oregon where I worked at the Inn of the 7th Mountain, and practiced drunken debauchery with a lot of like-thinking workers."  And then the next thing you know you're heading home to rekindle friendships with all the pretty girls in Crestline, before moving on to the new grand and fun things.  So what was the process that took you from the little wallflower seventh grader to the swaggering, successful stud of 1981?

So now that you've decided to live life to the fullest, I expect in your next e-mail you will tell me that you just purchased an online kit -- so you don't have to leave the house and actually buy the thing -- that will allow you to retrofit your house into a 60's style bomb shelter, and that you are vacuum packing two years worth of food, so that you will be able to go at least two years without seeing any humans.  That seems to be the way these things go.

You're talking about being old and decrepit now, but what about in twenty years?  I went to church on Sunday, and saw some very old men, all bent over and shuffling around with their canes, and I was thinking, gee, that can't be fun.  And no doubt they still kind of feel like they have the minds of young people, and they are horrified every time they look in the mirror, thinking, "What happened to me?  I remember being nine years old!  Damn!  Look at my hands!  It's embarrassing! Oh if only I was fifty seven again!"

Actually, it doesn't bother me all that much.  I mean, it's not like it was some kind of well-kept secret that everyone gets get old, and then they die.  The evidence has been out there in our faces every day of our lives.  So I just say, fine, bring it on.  Seriously.  I mean, I'd have a problem with it if only some people get wrinkly and old, and there were some assholes who just go on eternally, fresh and young, but it's a fair, across-the-board thing.  It's nice to have something in life be fair.  My only problem with getting old is that  -- as I've said before -- I think it's not right that they don't let really old people have LSD if they want it.  There should be at least a few special treats that are allowed to the elderly, and I think that should be one of them.  Sixteen year olds get to look forward to getting their driver license and all sorts of stuff like that, but what do 65 year olds have to look forward to?  LSD when I'm sixty-five? Sign me up! The drug should be administered in some beautiful setting, and there would be fresh-faced just-out-of-college girls around as specially trained "trip stewardesses" to provide snacks and conversation, and comfort for any of the old fools who start showing signs of having a "bad trip".... something I certainly never experienced.  Plus, I know that the other sixty-five-year olds who'd be signing up for their free LSD retreats (it would be paid for by medicare) would be really unusual, interesting people, so it would be a good way to meet fun, like-minded folks.

--edward

Slaughtering Your Inner Demons

Frank:

Nice picture of the big bird.... you said it was a vulture.  We don't have vultures around here, just crows and ravens.  The other day, I did see a pair of very big hawks soaring over a field where I walk our dog.  A little songbird seemed to be trying to drive one of them off and it was interesting to watch this little bird repeatedly swooping at a predator that was about ten times its size.

Yeah, I sympathize with the guilt you're talking about.  I get that too, usually from an inner voice that's saying something like, "Well, you sure made a damned fool of yourself."  After a life interaction comes guilt -- actually, for me I'd call it shame -- and of course before there's often anxiety. You get hit both ways, coming and going.  What gets me is that most people, the thick skinned doers of the world, don't feel any of this stuff.  They just barrel along, thinking, "I'm doin' great!"  I don't even think they have dreams at night, at least not dreams they remember.  And the stuff you're feeling guilty about, they do stuff that's five times worse, but they're feeling just fine.

That Self Therapy book would say you've got this inner "part" -- like a little person inside you --  that is causing you to feel that guilt, and it would say you should make friends with it, and get to know it, and figure out why it's doing that.  That's good advice, but I've also come up with another solution that is more satisfactory and fun.  When I feel what you're talking about, let's say it's either shame or anxiety, I  sometimes picture the being inside me that's causing me to feel that way.   But then, instead of imagining myself being all nice to it, like some little boy trying to make friends with Uncle Steve, I imagine myself murdering it.  In my imagination, I'm screaming, and hacking it to death, and blood is splashing everywhere, and it's very satisfying.  It actually seems to work sometimes, too, the guilt or anxiety recedes.  Then, when it returns the next time, I don't get all upset and think, "O darn, it didn't work."  No, I treat it like one of the villains in an action movie.  They always come back, too. "I knew you'd come back," I say, and  I just go after it again, with a battle axe this time maybe, and very graphically chop it all up again.  It's my imagination, after all.  I can do whatever I want.  I think you should try this.  Seriously.  As far as I'm concerned, whatever gets me though each day, it's all good... as long as it's not something that's obviously self destructive, like developing a heroin habit.  I'm thinking I should write a self-help book.  It would be titled, "Slaughtering Your Inner Demons." 

Here's what I think -- there's a part of you that wants to shut you down for some reason.  It wants you to end up barricaded inside your house, with aluminum foil over the windows, trying to keep you inside, and everything else outside.  You could view it as a frightened part of yourself, probably some little kid version of you, or you could picture it as an enemy... as a kind of  "demon."   Or better yet, picture it one way one time, and another way another time.  At any rate, whether this part of your is your friend or your enemy, you can't let it have its way, at least not before you're in a nursing home somewhere, at the mercy of high school drop-out aides... at that point, withdrawing into depression/isolation would actually probably be a reasonable response.

Yes, this is a nice time in Maine.  It's a very green time.  You can feel life bursting out everywhere.  As opposed to April, when everything just feels dead.  April in Maine is like being depressed at Christmas.  You know you're supposed to be happy, it's supposedly spring, and that theoretically "life" is happening all around you. But you look around and everything still looks and feels empty and dead.

We hike once in awhile, but the problem where we live is that if we actually want to hike somewhere in the mountains, it's at least an hour and a half away.  So we go on a lot of shorter walks, along the coast, in meadows, or in the woods, or whatever.  We also go on bike rides sometimes.  We have ocean kayaks, too, but I tend to drag my feet about going out in them, because to me it's a big hassle putting them on the car, driving to the ocean (it's only five minutes away), taking them off the car, etc. etc.  I'm really lazy about stuff like that.  A big lazy baby.

We should have lobster one of these days, now that you mention lobster.  I see the nearby farm stand, which also sells live lobster, is selling lobster for $4.99 a pound, which is a pretty good price.

Yes, I'm planning on getting to your place in  the evening of June 22.  I'd be there for the 23rd and 24th, then have to leave on the morning of the 25th.  I'm looking forward to it.

--edward

scared of strangers

Frank:

Interesting that it is such a puzzle, getting from your place to Carson City.  How about paddling that 18 ft canoe of yours, down to the south end of the lake?  You could camp overnight along the way.  The whole adventure, and an explanation of the difficulties that led you to it, would make a great article for the local newspaper.  It might even get picked up by the Associated Press, and you'd end up being a guest on David Letterman (I'm assuming David Letterman still has a show on TV) or Jay Leno, or whatever.  Of course, you'd first have to round up some Mexicans to help you get the boat from your place down to the lake, but the story of that would just add more fascinatingness to the piece.  Or is the canoe still sitting in Jane's garage?  This is a brilliant idea but, no, you'll end up getting there in some not-newsworthy way.

Okay, so let's address this discomfort with people thing....

Well sure every stranger you meet is a potential rattlesnake. Or it could be like one of these insects that injects its eggs inside its prey so they can hatch in there, and then slowly devour the thing from the inside.   I've definitely always felt wary of people, and on my guard, to the point where my face starts twitching and I can't look people in the eye. My dad did a great job of teaching me, and demonstrating, that people are scary and not to be trusted easily, and the world is a terrifying place. But everything is dangerous and unpredictable.  That's what makes it life as we know it. Catastrophe can strike any time and anywhere, with or without people.   Every decision or non-decision could be the one that kills you. And if you try to seal yourself off from all these dangers, bingo, you're dead already... you just have to wait for your heart to stop beating.   Sure, the world is an unsafe place, and people can be rattlesnakes. I've always assumed that everyone has a dark, secret underbelly. All I have to do is look at myself honestly and I realize, okay, people are complicated, and a mixture of good and evil.   I think everyone is, to a greater or lesser degree, a fraud.  That's the human condition.  I feel like I've got a fairly decent radar for when people are seriously being fake and trying to manipulate me and that sense gives me a certain amount of confidence, I guess, that every person I might encounter isn't a complete unknown scary question mark, with an equal, random chance of being a rattlesnake.  Did you start out thinking that people are basically good and trustworthy?  Have you always had this intense wariness and suspiciousness of people, or did it come over time from many repeated experiences where you misjudged or trusted someone, and they turned out to be a rattlesnake?  If you can't generally tell the difference between a cherry bomb and a pebble, then all pebbles seem dangerous.

Jesus said this to his followers when he sent them out into the world to interact with people: "Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: so be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.”  Be wise as serpents.... a very interesting thing for Mr. Son-of-God to say to his friends.  He didn't tell them to just go out and be trusting fools.

At this point in my life, the rewards of trying to make connections with other people outweigh the dangers.  It's like being on the second story of  a burning house.  It feels like the choice between a gamble and guaranteed emotional death.  Sure, it's scary to jump out the window, but given the alternative... bring it on! That's a fairly new thing with me, this interest in getting emotionally intimate with other people.  I am by nature a very, very solitary person, more so than almost anyone I've ever met. I love solitude. I love quiet. That will never change.   It's only in the last four or five years, as I've stumbled through some pretty intense psychological and spiritual crises, that I've felt I need other people to somehow complete my destiny, for lack of a better way of putting it.  But that's just me, my personal situation.  For you, I guess the question is, can you be happy and fulfilled without other people?  And that's not even the question, because you've got Jane and the others in your family, and you've got me, and who knows who else you've already got.  If what you've got is sufficient, then there you go, there's no problem at all. 

I attached one more cartoon from Dilbert, that comic strip you think is dumb and humorless and incomprehensible.  Do you see any humor in this one?

I feel like an embarrassing dope after writing this e-mail, for some reason, but I'm sending it anyway.  If you're not an embarrassing dope once in awhile, then you're not really living.  That's my motto.

--edward

George Whittell

Frank:

Well, that's exactly what I said, that you haven't changed, it's the political parties that have changed. 

Those were interesting comments about the French guy's statement.  It probably is true that it's because he's generally a caring, generous person, with a socialized French conscience, that he thinks it's not possible to be happy without being generous.  Then there's the question of what it means to be happy.  There's happiness that is a kind of fun/pleasure, and then there is something else which is a deeper rooted sense of fulfillment and peace.  I'm pretty sure the two are different, and even contradictory a lot of the time.  There are all sort of pills and drugs and video games and things like sex and eating, and stuff like that, that are pleasurable, sort of like a rat pushing its little bar to get a brief moment of stimulation,  but a lot of the time those things are like taking out a loan that you need to repay later,  with an I.O.U. for an equal payment of unhappiness and suffering at an unspecified future date.  The fulfillment/peace thing comes from something else.  I think that's more the thing the French guy was referring too.  But that doesn't mean other people find fulfillment in the same way, or that everybody even cares about something like that.  Maybe for some people, it's limited to just trying to find ways to press that little pleasure bar as much as possible, until they die.  That sounds horrible to me, like some kind of ghastly dark nightmare.  It would be like somebody who masturbates as many times as possible each day, every day.  There would be a lot of moments of pleasure each day, I guess, but I can't say it sounds like a very good recipe for happiness.

Which kind of leads to the whole question, is life purely materialistic, where we are just a bunch of atoms running around experiencing little bursts of energy and unconsciously demonstrating the laws of physics, or is there something more to it than that.  Each person has to answer that question for themselves.

For sure, I do think that life consists of both joy and sorrow, and there's no way around that.  In Asian cultures, they totally accept the idea that suffering is a big part of life, but here in America, we do everything we can to avoid that.  We're supposed to be happy all the time, just like we're supposed to be young all the time, and I think that in itself is a big source of unhappiness.... it's particularly bitter to be sad in a culture that denies the legitimacy and meaning of sadness. 

So how were the festivities surrounding John's birthday party?

I've been thinking about this George Whittell guy you told me about, which is kind of hard to do since I hardly know anything about him.  But I was wondering if at one time in his life he really had enjoyed and cared about people, and so it was a shocking change of character that he ended up scurrying around in underground tunnels so he could be alone, or if his whole recluse stage was just a foreseeable ending of the way he had always lived his life.  My guess would be that he always treated people the way he treated his Duesenberg and his fancy wooden power boat -- as things to collect and show off and move here and there in ways that amused him.  If that's the case, it makes sense that in the end he'd get fed up and just take his toys and live in a tunnel. If that's the case, I feel sorry for anyone who got close to him in his lifetime, if they were at all caring or sensitive people.  Fortunately, the kind of person who likes to "collect" other people as fun accessories, tends to attract people who are also manipulators, so it's all fair game.

--edward

conservative vs conservative

Frank:

I have to laugh.... right next to the e-mail you sent me, was an e-mail from "Michelle Obama,"  wondering if I would take the time to wish Barack a happy Father's Day.  I won't bother to hit the "yes" button, knowing the next step is a screen asking how much I'd like to donate.

Yes, why aren't you a tea partier?  Like everything else,  it's all genetics, right?  Thanks to your genes, I'd say you are temperamentally conservative.  Conservative in the meaning of the word that is talking about being moderate, cautious, somewhat adverse to risk and novelty/craziness, and also interested in conserving elements of the past and of nature.  A "saver."  The tea-partiers call themselves conservative, but it's a whole different thing, in some ways they're almost the opposite of that meaning of conservative.  They wouldn't admit it, but they're more radicals than conservatives, like some kind of barbarian tribe, bent on destroying civilization. So, actually, if your description of yourself as a selfish beast -- I remember your family used to call you "Beast" ... was that short for "Selfish Beast?" -- is accurate, then it all makes sense.  When you were young and forward moving and hoping to be a accumulator who was going to amass a successful material life then make sure it was sheltered and secure, then political conservatism made perfect sense.  Now that you're more on the fringes of society, no longer a person who is actively working at raking together a hoard of wealth, and fending off any hungry mother fuckers who might try to challenge you for it, it makes sense that you'd be politically left leaning.  You are being consistent.... a true sign of a conservative.  The ones who aren't being consistent are the uneducated, futureless morons who have been duped into thinking that if only government was abolished, they would rise to the top like helium balloons, and once again enjoy the benefits of being Americans,  destined by God to be like the New York Yankees -- always dominant, happy and free.

Back to what that French guy said, which you never commented on:  "I think it's not possible to be happy without being generous to other people."  This guy is not religious, by the way.  France is considered a "Catholic" country, but very few French people believe in god, mostly just the older ones that are dying off.  Anyway, if that statement of his were true, then a truly selfish person would need to find a away to be generous to others.  Otherwise, he'd end up making himself miserable. 

Yeah, it's too bad Jane and Paul were into these GM and Chrysler trucks.  It's kind of a mini-tragedy to be responsible about careful maintenance and all that stuff, but to start out with a vehicle that is essentially rotten to begin with.  What a lesson it gives to people, when most stuff is shoddy and disposable -- there's no point in taking care of anything.  Just throw it away when it's broken, and buy a replacement. 

I have to admit, I'm not at excited about Obama as I once was.  I think part of it is that I'm psychologically withdrawing a bit, to prepare myself for not being devastated if he loses.  It would be a different story if he was out there making a difference, but right now he just seems like a guy who knows he's been stalemated in chess, and he's only moving the pieces around so it seems like he's still trying.  But I'll still vote for him, since his opponent is high-school bully boy Romney.

--edward