23 - I've been catching up with "lost" friends in recent weeks and the question always comes up -- "What have you been up to lately?"  It's not that I don't like this exercise in touching base, but if its all right with you all I think I'll just resort to wearing a t-shirt with the question sprawled across the front.  Maybe we can save a few moments within the conversation, along with my sanity.

In light of these conversations, today's post will let you all know that life in Ohio goes along at a normal, unexciting, and steady pace.  And I'm all right with that. 

***

Some may call it "hip," some may call it "modern," but never trust aisle signs at new grocery stores -- they will leave you stranded, and wanting for more. 

I couldn't find the dishsoap without asking, but I found "New Age Beverages" with ease.  I couldn't find crackers because they were hyphenated with cookies.  Like some scary new dessert, they have been hyphenated, to be read Cookies-Crackers, as if Asian sesame crackers and Oreos smashed together would make an agreeable taste.

But, this was not the case, taste and commonality were not the issue, they had been truncated, without a doubt, to make room for signs like, "Organic Pizzas," that now rule the rafter real-estate.

So, call me a grocery store purist if you will, but I like things simple.

Crackers.
Cookies.

Just like that.

22 - The This American Life espidode concerning wackiness is extremely relevant to Post-Pavement hipsterland and is, I think, a great starter piece for what is dangerous about irony and trivialization in youth culture.  I would love to write the next great piece, or at least read what someone else has to say about it, since I think there's great value in shutting up and getting down -- as evidenced, for example, by the function of hip hop as an alternative to gang activity in the Bronx during the mid-to-late '70's -- but there's also great danger in not aggressively understanding everything we take in, through our eyes and ears as well as in to our bodies.  Now that Malkmus' slacker-ethos --specifically, the weak distillation thereof, which does not provide for a wide swath of people to write such subtexted opening lines as, "Sherri, you smell different" (thanks Spin) -- has provided our generation with a methodology by which to approach our own culture, reflexively, how can we use it as positively as possible.

If I ever end up writing this, and I sincerely doubt I will (Chuck Klosterman and Ariel Levy I aint', at least not yet), there are two things that I will have to do.  The first will be to find a straw man for the reversal of ground claimed by riot grrl, political hardcore, and third-wave feminism, who is not Pavement, despite that last paragraph up there.  They are just who came to mind when I thought of disaffectation, despite that fact that, A) they only ever sounded unconcerned on the surface to the untrained ear, and B) I should have known better.  I am sorry for mentioning you in my last paragraph, Pavement, I am tired.  The second thing to do will be to refrain from calling the piece, "Should I Love Three 6 Mafia This Fucking Much."

Even thinking about all the notional ground I'd have to cover is giving me a headache, but I would like to touch upon:  The relative merits and dangers of political correctness v. raunch culture; class warfare and genres of music; the infamous mid-90's meltdown in the hardcore scene resulting in, among other things, people "calling out" other people during shows for purportedly being racist, rapists, et al., safe places being erected and enforced at fests, and the eventual meltdown of an entire scene that just wanted to consciensous and omni-acceptive; music as a vehicle for lyrical content v. musical content (see above re:  Three 6 Mafia, also Screwdriver or Rapeman or what have you; cross-reference with any number of "outside music" bands, hissy tape releases, etc.)

The whole thing would probably end up veering dangerously close to proselytization territory, and the ironic trick would be to make it fun and interesting to read, rather than preachy and showoffy.  I mean, the question of political correctness has been gnawing at me since fourth grade, when I was publically humiliated and punished for drawing a swatiska in my notebook, despite the fact that I had been tearfully reading Maus for two months (on my own steam, no less!) and was only idly doodling some iconography in my notebook (around which were four dozen other logos and symbols, including the boxy MTV trademark), rather than gleefully planning to boot-stomp my semetic friends.  I think that my conclusion to all this would probably be, fatiguingly enough, that you can't prepackage community understanding for people; that you have to be an active part of a whole to understand its values, and when that whole implies "the set of human beings" you run into logistic difficulties.  In chintzier words, you have to have open, and unlocked hearts to open and unlock hearts.  Or do you?  Geez, do I have to fucking write this thing?  Whine, pout, etc.

Anyway, if you can make your way through this and feel like you understand what I'm getting at, feel free to add your own thoughts.

21 - Oh darling internet, you're so funny

1.  Chuck Norris responds to various internet claims, such as, "there is no theory of evolution, just creations that Chuck Norris allows to live."  This -- this is why we live in the Information age.

2.  Oh, Google
It is to the credit of this modern world that I can idly type a phrase into a computer and have it report merrily, half a second later, that I have just accidently named a city in Laos.  That city is named "Ban Hatdong."  Thank you.

3.  As a corollary to item 1, Chuck Norris facts.  "There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard.  There is only another fist." 

20 - Facelift

I wish I was going back to school this week, lugging a new binder which I'd soon customize with images and words cut from a magazine, much more (I hope) much more interesting when out of context and placed against something new.  A fresh schedule (something about being able to glance at a dot-matrix'd piece of paper and know what's going to happen, a solid, unshakeable plan for what's going to happen the next day, always so crucial then and so sorely lacking now), a reunion with unliked people, a shared glance of misery with liked people.  Back again, awful but not so awful.  Ultra-expensive, untainted books, weighing down a bakcpack hung from a single shoulder.  The year unfolding at a glacial pace.

I thought this today:  "It was nice to be reminded that there are some people out there who have known me for longer than a year, who have a vague memory of me when I was young and potent."  See I've spent a lot of time lately with people I think I could like very much, but they don't know me, and I'm not going to make it easy for anyone, not when there are people out there who don't need an explanation, who understand the shorthand, who can, for example, and this is true, guess what word I'm trying to convey while playing Taboo without me saying anything, just through the tiniest gesture.  This actually happened, the word being facelift.

19 - Things I Wanted to Write About:

1.  Letters to my future children explaining why their mother used to be cool.
2.  An explanation of why Lightning Bolt's "Hypermagic Mountain" would have won "Best Album of the Year" even if it had been awful.
3.  A short dissertation on what it's like to be old enough to know your own faults, but not experienced enough with them to be tired of them, and automatically work to circumvent that.

Instead...there's this:

WHICH IS WORSE:

1.  Gwen Stefani:  "Hollaback Girl"
2.  D4L:  "Laffy Taffy"
CONSIDER; RESPOND

Personally, based soley on the fact that before this moronic song Gwen Stefani decided it would be a good idea to cover a song from "The Fiddler on the Roof," I will give the (dubious) victory to her.  However, I would like to know in what circumstance an ass could ever be like Laffy Taffy.  Asses don't come with bad jokes printed on the wrappers; they don't come in flavors like banana, sour apple, and raspberry, they aren't square and kinda stretchy; and perhaps most importantly, asses don't usually get stuck in your teeth when you try to chew them.  Can anyone solve these mysteries for me?!?