Your daily dose of inspiration.

I recently heard this poem on an episode of This American Life, which I often listen to on long road trips or while painting. And regardless of how you feel about the show itself, which does tend to be a bit of a downer more often than not ( and yes, sometimes it'd be nice to hear about some positive stuff), there was an incredible poem on it by David Rakoff. I loved the poem completely and it seemed to speak to me about several of life's issues that I've been struggling to come to terms with.  You can hear it here, on This American Life’s “Frenemies” episode (#389, originally aired on 9.11.2009), and I'll also post the full text below my musings. You may want to read the poem or listen to it before delving into my post about it, so it makes more sense. In any case,  it's an absolutely beautiful piece, which for me culminates in the following passages:

 "...You never should trust

A creature like me because poison I must
I’d claim some remorse or at least some compunction
But I just can’t help it. My form is my function.
You thought I’d behave like my cousin the crab,/But unlike him, it is my nature to stab.’"... "in the end, friends, our natures will out." 


"'We’re creatures of contact, regardless of whether
We kiss or we wound, still, we must come together.
Though it may spell destruction, we still ask for more
Since it beats staying dry but so lonely on shore.
So we make ourselves open while knowing full well
It’s essentially saying, ‘Please, come pierce my shell.’"


I think this goes quite nicely with the Franzen piece I posted earlier. In the end the main character of the poem, Nathan, cannot blame his former lover and best friend because when we allow ourselves to really love someone, we must know that we are putting ourselves out there to really get hurt. And in fact, as human beings, if we are really being true to our natural form, to what we were made to do, we cannot help but love (not like, a la Facebook). And if we do not, then we are merely shells of ourselves, which is why the turtle is such an apt choice in animal for Rakoff's poem. In responding to Franzen's piece, I can only hope that the line: "In the end, friends, our natures will out" is true. I can only hope that us human beings will, in effect, come to our senses and realize how passive we are becoming.  

And because that's just the kind of person I am, to close, I leave you with lyrics from Nicki Minaj's "Moment 4 life" which features Drake, and he sings this part so not sure who the credit really goes to, but whatever: "Everybody dies, but not everybody lives."

As always, more on technology vs. humanity later. 

As promised, here's the poem in its entirety: 

Nathan, at one of the outlying tables,
His feet tangled up in the disc jockey’s cables,
Surveyed the room, as unseen as a ghost,
While he mulled over what he might say for his toast.
Though the couple had asked him for this benediction,
It seemed at odds with parking him here by the kitchen.
That he’d shown up at all was still a surprise.
And not just to him; it was there in the eyes
Of the guests who’d seen a mirage and drew near
And then covered their shock with a “Nathan! You’re here!”
And then silence. They’d nothing to say beyond that.
A few of the braver souls lingered to chat.
They all knew. It was neither a secret nor mystery
That he and the couple had quite an odd history.
Their bonds were a tangle of friendship and sex.
Josh, his best pal once. And Patty, his ex.
For a while he could barely go out in the city
Without a being a punchline or object of pity.
‘Poor Nathan’ had virtually become his new name,
And so he showed up just to show he was game
Though his invite was late, a forgotten addendum.
For Nathan there could be no more clear referendum
That he need but endure through this evening and then
He would likely not see Josh and Patty again.
Josh’s sister was speaking. A princess in peach.
Nathan dug in his pocket to study his speech.
He’d poured over Bartlett’s for couplets to filch.
He’d stayed up until three, still came up with zilch.
Except for instructions he’d underscored twice.
Just two words in length, and those words were ‘be nice’.
Too often, he thought, our emotions betray us
And reason departs once we’re up on the dais.
He’d witnessed uncomfortable moments where others had lost their way quickly,
Where sisters and brothers had gotten too prickly
And peppered their babbling with stories of benders,
Or lesbian dabbling or spot-on impressions of mothers-in-law.
Which true, Nathan thought, always garnered guffaws
But the price seemed too high with the laugh seldom cloaking
Hostility masquerading as joking
No, he’d swallow his rage and he’d bank all his fire.
He knew that in his case the bar was set higher.
Folks were just waiting for him to erupt.
They’d be hungry for blood even though they had supped.
They’d want tears or some other unsightly reaction.
And Nathan would not give them that satisfaction.
Though Patty a harlot and Josh was a lout,
At least Nathan knew what he’d not talk about.
I won’t wish them divorce, that they wither and sicken
Or tonight that they choke on their salmon or chicken.
I won’t mention that time when the cottage lost power
In that storm on the Cape and they left for an hour
And they thought it was just the cleverest ruse
To pretend it took that long to switch out the fuse.
Or that time Josh advised me with so much insistence
That I should grant Patty a little more distance,
That the worst I could do was hamper and crowd her,
That if Patty felt stifled she’d just take a powder,
That a plant needs its space just as much as its water,
And I shouldn’t give Patty that ring that I’d bought her,
Which in retrospect only elicits a “Gosh,
I hardly deserved a friend like you, Josh.”
No I won’t spill those beans or make myself foolish
To satisfy appetites venal and ghoulish.
I will not be the blot on this hellish affair.
And with that, Nathan pushed out and rose from his chair.
And just by the tapping of knife against crystal,
All eyes turned his way, like he’d fired off a pistol.
“Ah hem, Joshua, Patricia, dear family and friends,
A few words, if you will, before everything ends.
You’ve promised to honor, to love and obey,
We’ve quaffed our champagne and been cleansed by sorbet,
All in endorsement of your hers-and-his-dom.
So now let me add my two cents’ worth of wisdom.
I was wracking my brain sitting here at this table
Until I remembered this suitable fable
That gets at a truth, though it may well distort us
So here with the tale of the scorpion and tortoise.
The scorpion was hamstrung, his tail all aquiver.
Just how would he manage to get ‘cross the river?
‘The water’s so deep,’ he observed with a sigh,
Which pricked at the ears of the tortoise nearby.
‘Well, why don’t you swim?’ asked the slow-moving fellow.
‘Unless you’re afraid. I mean, what are you, yellow?’
‘It isn’t a matter of fear or of whim,’
Said the scorpion. ‘But that I don’t know how to swim.’
‘Ah, forgive me. I didn’t mean to be glib
When I said that I figured you were an amphib-
ian.’ ‘No offense taken,’ the scorpion replied.
‘But how ’bout you help me to reach the far side?
You swim like a dream and you have what I lack.
What say you take me across on your back?’
‘I’m really not sure that’s the best thing to do,’
Said the tortoise. ‘Now that I see that it’s you.
You’ve a less than ideal reputation preceding.
There’s talk of your victims all poisoned and bleeding.
You’re the scorpion. And, how can I say this but, well,
I just don’t feel safe with you riding my shell.’
The scorpion replied, ‘What would killing you prove?
We’d both drown. So tell me how would that behoove
Me to basically die at my very own hand,
When all I desire is to be on dry land?’
The tortoise considered the scorpion’s defense.
When he gave it some thought it made perfect sense.
The niggling voice in his mind he ignored
And he swam to the bank and called out, ‘Climb aboard.’
But just a few moments from when they set sail,
The scorpion lashed out with his venomous tail.
The tortoise too late understood that he’d blundered
When he felt his flesh stabbed and his carapace sundered.
As he fought for his life he said, ‘Tell me why
You have done this? For we now will surely both die.’
‘I don’t know!’ cried the scorpion. ‘You never should trust
A creature like me because poison I must.
I’d claim some remorse or at least some compunction
But I just can’t help it. My form is my function.
You thought I’d behave like my cousin the crab,
But unlike him, it is my nature to stab.’
The tortoise expired with one final quiver,
And then both of them sank, swallowed up by the river.
The tortoise was wrong to ignore all his doubts
Because in the end, friends, our natures will out.”
Nathan paused, cleared his throat, took a sip of his drink.
He needed these extra few seconds to think.
The room had gone frosty; the tension was growing.
Folks wondered precisely where Nathan was going.
The prospects of skirting fiasco seemed dim,
But what he said next surprised even him.
“So what can we learn from their watery ends?
Is there some lesson on how to be friends?
I think what it means is that central to living
A life that is good, is a life that’s forgiving.
We’re creatures of contact, regardless of whether
We kiss or we wound, still, we must come together.
Though it may spell destruction, we still ask for more
Since it beats staying dry but so lonely on shore.
So we make ourselves open while knowing full well
It’s essentially saying, ‘Please, come pierce my shell.’”
Silence doesn’t paint the depth of quiet in that room.
There was no clinking stemware toasting to the bride or groom.
You could’ve heard a petal as it landed on the floor.
And in that stillness Nathan turned and walked right out the door.

Been trying to brush up on the pathetic amount of pre-1950s cinema I've seen. Two films deep into his oeuvre and I can't believe I'd never even heard of the guy. You know the term "meet-cute?" Yeah, that was him.

Here's an article,  cleverly and aptly titled "The Importance of Seeing Ernst" by Peter Bogdanovich which is apparently the culmination of articles he wrote about Lubitsch over the course of several decades. So clearly if you want to try to understand what "The Lubitsch Touch" is or why Jean Renoir called him the inventor of modern Hollywood (modern meaning films made from 1924 to the 1960s), then this article is probably your best shot. 

"This is the kind of woman that makes whole civilizations topple"


GOAL: Become a combination of Barbara Stanwyck and Katharine Hepburn, thus becoming the ultimate woman! 

"Be open to collaboration. Other people and other people's ideas are often better than your own. Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you. Spend a lot of time with them. And it will change your life." 

Her lessons from Second City: 
"Make big choices early and often...don't start a scene where two people are talking about jumping out of a plane; start the scene having already jumped. if you're scared, look into your partners eyes; you will feel better." 

"I cannot stress enough that the answer to a lot of your life's questions is often in someone else's face."

"I have been lucky to be a part of great ensembles." 

It's much more fun to succeed or fail with other people. You can blame them when things go wrong...Take your risks now. As you grow older, you become more fearful and less flexible." 

Conclusion: "When you feel scared, hold someone's hand and look into their eyes. And when you feel brave, do the same thing."

A few of my favorite passages: 
"When you consider the alternative — an anesthetized dream of self-sufficiency, abetted by technology — pain emerges as the natural product and natural indicator of being alive in a resistant world. To go through a life painlessly is to have not lived. Even just to say to yourself, 'Oh, I’ll get to that love and pain stuff later, maybe in my 30s' is to consign yourself to 10 years of merely taking up space on the planet and burning up its resources. Of being (and I mean this in the most damning sense of the word) a consumer." 

"...the fundamental fact about all of us is that we’re alive for a while but will die before long. This fact is the real root cause of all our anger and pain and despair. And you can either run from this fact or, by way of love, you can embrace it."

I also really like how split screen is used. 

If I had it my way, I would have this haircut. It would also look really good on me and be totally socially acceptable. 

This is the kind of woman I hope to become. 

She's really just incredible. Love her laugh at 2:39. 
I haven't seen "Philadelphia Story" in a while but just from re-watching this scene, of course, this is the film Hepburn chose to stage her come-back after years of being labeled as box-office poison. And indeed, Hepburn really is responsible for her come-back ("don't call it a come-back?"). She left Hollywood for Broadway, bought the rights to "Philadelphia Story," appeared in the very successful stage version, and then returned to Hollywood to make the film adaptation. Gotta love that that classic Katharine Hepburn spunk wasn't just limited to the characters she portrayed. 

Ira Glass on how important it is for young artists/writers/creatives to push through the stage where what you're creating isn't as good as you want it to be. 
In the video, he plays a piece that he did after 8 years of working at NPR, and then he tears everything he did in it apart. 
Great stuff.