Memories of the Third New York
I was in New York this past weekend delivering a paper at conference at Fordham University in midtown Manhattan. Over the last five years I’d been to the city more times than I can count but never for work. I was there to see friends too, but the fact that I had justified a trip along these lines for the first time was pause for reflection. Taking the train from the airport to a friend’s Harlem apartment, and then from there to the university, without getting lost once, served as a stark reminder to a passed, all encompassing ambition. To be one of them. Because to me I already was. Once.
E. B. White once claimed there are three New York’s. The first is filled with people who were born and raised there. They define a significant portion of the allure of the city, but are ultimately limited in fully understanding the scope of their hometown origin mentality.
The second type are the throngs of people commuting daily into the city to work. Each morning millions of hardworking men and women rush into the city on trains and through bridges and tunnels, the population swelling beyond what already seemed like capacity. They too are what make New York what it is, but again only partially. For their purpose in the city is one primarily of economics. It provides ample opportunity to make a living to take back home to their families.
Then there is the third type of New York, the one that draws people from all over the country and world, and for no other reason than to simply be there. They fall in love with the city, and if they are lucky, with some of it’s inhabitants, with the hopes of making it their new home. For them, just making it to New York is making it enough.
I read these words well after my time as a pseudo New Yorker had come to an end. I had spent three years of my life with someone who lived in the city and decided to remain. In the aftermath of the realization that despite all the time and effort spent preparing to become one the third type of New Yorkers, I would not be making it after all, I have come to miss the city, and those who live there, terribly.
One thing has remained constant. Everytime I have returned “home” from New York it was always accompanied by a feeling of loneliness, usually due to the people I was leaving behind. Suffice it to say I am struck by a similar feeling this time. Only now it feels like something more. It is probably time to leave that part of me there. He doesn’t really exist in the same way anymore. I’m just hoping that part of him finally wants to come home with me.
Before I left I had brunch with the close friend who introduced me to New York over five years ago. She’s right, it does feel like my adopted city. There have been many highs and lows since then, and not much in between. And as we stood together in Union Square Park, sharing what would seem like a mutual final goodbye in a place that has determined so much of who I am and who we are, I couldn’t help but just stand there in silence a bit longer. In my favorite part of one of my favorite places.
When “Celebrities” Find Twitter
I’m presenting at a media studies conference next month in the University of Texas Radio-Television-Film department. Since I try to put digested versions of academic things I write here I thought I’d post some of what I’ll offer at the conference:
With the recent addition of Kanye West to its ranks, the social media site Twitter seems to have found its poster child. Garnering more than 400,000 followers in his first week, West’s incessant posts about every absurdly mundane aspect of his rather extravagant public lifestyle seems indicative of the narcissistic potential of social networking. West’s Twitter followers, of which I am admittedly among, are privy to an excess of celebrity on a scale previously unimagined.
Neal Gabler reminds us that “celebrity” in the United States developed as technological innovations in media created an insatiable cultural desire for public recognition. Which means that like it or not, we all aspire to be Kanye West. Predicated on the idea of instant publicity, Twitter enables a constant search for recognition by one’s “followers,” likening them to the fanbase enjoyed by traditional celebrities. Much like with Reality television and YouTube, Twitter may be fundamentally changing the ways in which we configure celebrity status. In other words “celebrity” is the guiding ideology of Twitter, with the desire to address and be addressed by one’s “followers” serving to create a hyper-public media environment that blurs the public and private lives of celebrities as well as the distinction between celebrity and non-celebrity. With Twitter everyone strives for recognition.
My position is anchored in what communication scholar Jodi Dean, in her book Publicity’s Secret terms “technoculture.” Essentially publicity and technoculture go together like liberalism and capitalism. This is significant because it implies that our actions not only confine publicity to the online world, but that the online world is synonymous with all others. Just like our systems of currency increasingly organize our economic systems around elements whose intrinsic worth is self-perpetuating so our notion of publicity similarly functions in contemporary technoculture.
With Twitter celebrity and publicity go hand in hand. The primary path to participation in the technocultural sphere is through recognition. Tweeting in the hopes of gaining a cult of “followers” we align ourselves with publicity as the underlying ideological construct of the Internet. The desire to be known is more than one of vanity however. It has also become a simulacrum of political participation. Dean explains, “for the victim to matter politically, it has to become public, to be made visible, accessible. It has to be known. Those who aren’t known are not victims.” So while Wyclef Jean’s campaign for President of Haiti may be nothing more than a publicity stunt, in late capitalist society this visibility is key and nowhere is this more tantamount that online. As the Internet potentially permeates more and more of our lives, as globalization of capital is sure to continue, this will serve to become the reality in every sense of the word. In this regard Jean’s political stunt may also indicate legitimate political action.
If visibility through achievement of celebrity is what counts as political participation then those who are unable to achieve such visibility will be literally unknown. In a mediated world failure to achieve publicity and recognition is a failure to participate politically. As Twitter continues the complication of online and offline, the drive for recognition in one becomes a necessity for relevance in another. In other words Twitter indicates that being a celebrity really is most important.
A recent New York Times piece I Tweet Therefore I Am provides a nice hashtags for what I’m going for here. Now more than ever it has become the presentation of self. Instead of self reflection and internal development of identity, we are increasingly more aware of our public perception. We now spend more of our time on outward appearance, not that we didn’t before. In other words, everyone is marketing themselves. On Twitter, everyone is a celebrity.
Dazed and Confused: Housesitting with a College Professor’s Wife
Everyone I know is moving this summer, myself included. I’m finally settled in at my new place, which is great, but it has killed my productivity the past week, which is not so great.
I’ve been housesitting in Hyde Park all summer for a professor in my department, where all the houses look like this. Living rent free in one of the best neighborhoods in Austin has definitely been a lifesaver and somewhat of a Summer routine for myself. For the most part it’s been good, if a little solitary at times. Like having your own ranch. People have been asking me what it was like living by myself on nearly an acre of land in Hyde Park. I’ve decided to give you all my Top 5 “Highlights” of my summer Housesitting with the College Professor’s Wife (more on that soon).
1. Battling Raccoons
The most important part of housesitting usually involves making sure any pets stay alive. This was no different. The two cats placed in my care, Bella and Jasper, were pretty easy going if a little needy at times. Like a typical male cat Jasper loved hanging out with me, while Bella had the look of “who the hell are you” etched into her face for nearly two months.
What was different was the third “houseguest” to come through the cat door at night. On the list of things I didn’t think I’d ever cross off a list, coming face to face with a raccoon in a kitchen, on multiple occasions, is definitely near the top. It was like camping in the backwoods, only it was inside a house, in a major U.S. city.
2. Healing Sessions
Usually, when you housesit for people they tend to not be there. Such is not the case in Hyde Park Hollow, where I essentially had a roommate on the other end of the house for the first two weeks. Vickie is really sweet, really nice, and really interesting. Also she is Dr. Browning’s wife. Here is an email I got from my roommate regarding her spiritual prowess.
Hi Joe,
I will be doing an energy healing at the house today from 4:40 – 6:40PM, and Friday from 4-6PM. I have decided not to use the regular healing room, which is on my side of the house – the sun porch room, because it is too hot, and the air conditioning doesn’t reach it.
I will be using the living room. I will leave the back door unlocked, so you could enter through the kitchen. There might be the sounds of drumming and gongs and rattles during the session. Thank you so much in advance for being flexible!!!!
I think this can stand alone.
3. Becoming one with ALL of Austin’s Bugs
Welcome to the Jungle
4. Playing landlord
Needless to say the Professor and his wife are very smart financially, owning and renting out several properties all over Austin. But someone’s gotta deposit those rent checks on the first of the month and that person was me. It was quite the experience to take a half-dozen checks from strangers each month and deposit them into another stranger’s checking account. No Questions Asked. And they say we are in a financial crisis!
5. Not having a single party (in case anyone of note is reading this).
Let me just say again, I did not have any parties at the house. I also did not tell anyone I was going to have a party, nor did I brag about how epic a party would have been. There was NO secret Evite or Facebook event that went out and that tree falling through the roof of the side room was definitely not caused by anything no one at the house was not doing during this party I did not have. Not really.
Note to everyone: Always take the opportunity to house sit for a professor. Their houses are usually baller, and this was no exception. They really hooked me up this summer.
Joan Rivers is My Grandmother
The first time I ever did stand up comedy was also the first time I ever wore drag. Dressed in streetwalker makeup and leopard print everything, I took the stage at Moorpark College’s Improv Comedy Showcase and delivered my monologue about all the cats I owned, their crazy names, and how I could not live without Siegfried and Roy.
I was 18.
I was playing my Grandmother. She was in the audience that night and thought the show was “fabulous!” (Her words, not mine).**
She came to LA in the early 1950s from Wheeling, WV, a town that I’m pretty sure just installed their 4th traffic light.
My grandmother always knew she was obsessed with show business and has done everything she can to stay on top… the gossip. The only person I’ve ever met who has an actual subscription to the National Enquirer, she still knows more about what’s going on with Lindsay Lohan than you. Yes you. Also she just purchased an iPad. What other family you know where the grandmother is the tech savvy person?
My Grandmother and and Uncle. Notice the couture.
So imagine my surprise when I went to my local arthouse (read: on campus) theater the other day to watch Joan Rivers swear. Alot.
Joan Rivers won’t let anyone see her until she’s put her face on. She doesn’t want to see HERSELF before putting her makeup on. She wears a lot of gawdy clothes. She is completely obsessed with celebrities. She sounds like she uses the word “fabulous” alot. And most importantly she lives how she wants.
Joan Rivers always knew she would be in show business and has done everything she can to stay on top and relevant.
You guys. Joan Rivers is my Grandmother.
Both have taught me important lessons in comedy. Sometimes your best bet is to be outrageous and not give a shit what others think. Wear what you want. Say what you want. And whatever you do, do NOT leave the house without first putting on your face.
**Yes, I am aware of what rumors this undoubtedly brings. Story of my life.
Poor Kids Can’t Get Into Ivy League Schools? Get Outta Here!
Earlier this week The New York Times did something today that you don’t often see: An Op-Ed piece agreeing with Pat Buchanan.
Writing about underserved white kids in ivy league schools columnist Ross Douthat points out that, SURPRISE!, poor people have a hard time getting in to Ivy League schools. And it’s apparently even worse when those poor people are white. The crux of the argument is quoted below
Last year, two Princeton sociologists, Thomas Espenshade and Alexandria Walton Radford, published a book-length study of admissions and affirmative action at eight highly selective colleges and universities. Unsurprisingly, they found that the admissions process seemed to favor black and Hispanic applicants, while whites and Asians needed higher grades and SAT scores to get in. But what was striking, as Russell K. Nieli pointed out last week on the conservative Web site Minding the Campus, was which whites were most disadvantaged by the process: the downscale, the rural and the working-class.
Ok so that is less of a surprise. But what remains surprising is why we still judge the quality of our admissions processes as a whole by who is getting in to Ivy League schools. Rich people still have no trouble getting in. Underserved minorities have benefitted from significant efforts to open more educational doors to those who are more likely to have not come from wealthy backgrounds. But to say now that the fact that working class white kids are not being given the same opportunities to attend Ivy League schools presupposes one major argument:
That it should be cheaper and easier to attend HARVARD.
This is where Douthat’s analysis starts to go a little off the rails. Here is his response to the aforementioned study
This provides statistical confirmation for what alumni of highly selective universities already know. The most underrepresented groups on elite campuses often aren’t racial minorities; they’re working-class whites (and white Christians in particular) from conservative states and regions. Inevitably, the same underrepresentation persists in the elite professional ranks these campuses feed into: in law and philanthropy, finance and academia, the media and the arts.
This breeds paranoia, among elite and non-elites alike.
Right, THAT’S why there are so many “liberal elites” in our universities! Poorer, conservative kids want to be college professors, charity workers, community organizers and performing artists but are not given the chance to do so. Quick, someone alert David Horowitz!
I think what is really at play here is a bunch of people complaining about having to go to a safety school.
Newsflash: Not everyone gets to go to private school!
Second Newsflash: those aren’t the only good schools in the country!
Sure, it is probably true that due to increased focus on expanding access to America’s most elite universites some people are feeling left out of the conversation. But why do we still insist on judging the relative health of our access to higher education on how many white people are being excluded from Ivy Leagues on the (false) premise that those spots are now going to minorities who weren’t as deserving? Why does that have to be the argument? Why do you HAVE to go to Harvard? Shit, I went to community college for 2 years out of high school and, last I checked, am currently working on a PhD from the University of Texas, regarded as a “public Ivy.” Which means that I am receiving largely the same education as my friends at Columbia for a lot less of the cost. Also, did you know that there are schools like this all over the country, not just in New England? I know, I was shocked too. We never really mention these things when highlighting the elite status of America’s universities.
Am I extremely lucky to even be in my position? Duh! But as someone who was made to feel less than adequate by my fellow AP classmates in highschool because I couldn’t afford to go to UCLA I don’t really think my white working class parents have hindered my educational success. Though I imagine constantly whining about not getting in to Harvard might.
Bottom line: access to colleges and universities should be made available to all who want the opportunity. But that opportunity does not reside squarely on the shoulders of Harvard administrators. Besides all those movies about Ivy League schools are filmed at UCLA anyway.
I Am a Thesis (And So Can You)!: Part 2-Mailed ‘em.
So I finally did it. After a year and a half photoshopping images, writing cover letters, and tracking down addresses, I finally sent off my thesis to The Colbert Report today. Actually it’s kind of embarrassing it took me to find that last part, seeing as I ended up settling for the fan mail address.
Either way I’m pretty excited about it, and proud of myself for actually going through it. As I mentioned in Part 1 this was always part of the plan when I originally wrote the thing. The cover letter my former speech coach and I included, yes- a cover letter, this is a professional operation, we hope Colbert’s staff won’t react in the same way as my graduate committee.
Much to the horrified surprise of my thesis committee, I am sending this project to you and your staff as what I hope is not the oddest tribute you’ve received.
I still think I’m in the running for odd tributes with the photos we made. I showed some of them in the last post but really went for it on others. This is the one I actually fastened to the envelope.
The is one I’m particularly proud of. It probably took the longest but I think makes for a solid desktop wallpaper. I invite you to share in the FREEDOM.
This final one is by far my favorite. I hope it serves as a visual clue as to exactly where I think the copy should go.
Man I love Photoshop (And So Can You)!
If it gets in the right hands it would be only the 6th copy ever distributed. If you yourself are intrigued, and still reading at this point, you can see a version of the thesis in the Arizona State University Hayden Library, or when I figure out how to upload them here.
These should arrive in New York sometime early next week. Then it is your move Colbert. Please don’t throw it out.
Breaking News: California Legislature Dumb as Rocks
The legislature should be eaten by bears.
People hate on L.A. alot and I usually shut them down pretty quickly with this gem:
“You like movies? You’re welcome.”
Nevertheless, us Californians sure do know how to provide hysterical fodder for the rest of the country. Remember when we did THIS? Or THIS?
Well today we’ve got another ridiculous thing to fight up at the Statehouse. Apparently the legislature is debating whether or not to remove serpentine as the official state rock, because it contains naturally occurring traces of asbestos. Cancer-conscious advocates claim it sends the wrong message. Yes, because clearly Californians have a huge problem with naturally occurring carcinogens.
The New York Times, whose writers I’m sure had a field day, summed up the crux of the controversy
“Declaring that serpentine “has known health effects,” the bill would leave California — one of roughly half the states in the nation with an official rock or mineral — without an official rock. (According to the bill, California was the first state, in 1965, to name an official rock.) Asbestos occurs naturally in many minerals, and indeed some serpentine rocks do serve as a host for chrysotile, a form of asbestos. But geologists say chrysotile is less harmful than some other forms of asbestos, and would be a danger — like scores of other rocks — only if a person were to breathe its dust repeatedly.
Ok, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and file this away under “Not An Issue.”
But legislators aren’t. Here is what actual California Senator Gloria Romero actually had to say in the bill’s defense
“California is health conscious,” she said. “This is not about being anti-rock. But why do we need a rock?”
Just to be clear. The California Legislature. Is fighting. Over rocks.
Look at the dangerous rock in some dude's hand.
It is literally a metaphor for what is wrong with the state.
Since I’m going to one day be a Dr., and thus certified expert on matters of rhetoric and argumentation, allow me to break down this complicated argument for y’all.
Issue 1: Should the California State rock be Serpentine?
Issue 2: Should we even have a State rock?
Issue 3: Is this why California is broke?
$10 bucks if you can guess which two are the most important. I then ask that you donate that money to the California State Treasury.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go smash my face against a rock. But not serpentine. Wouldn’t want to up my cancer risk.
Ocean’s Eleven and The Heist
I just finished a summer session class on rhetoric and film.
I was quite intrigued with Jean-Louis Baudry’s paradox of forgetting in film. Basically, the real magic of movies is that the film’s production ultimately hides the fact that it is a movie at all. Sitting in a movie theater, presumably, is also meant to trick our minds into forgetting that what we are really doing is watching a bunch of images projected on a screen with sounds synced up.
Seemed like a perfect opportunity to write about Ocean’s Eleven.
I picked this movie for my final paper for two reasons:
1. Because I can.
2. The whole thing is an elaborate inside joke for the actors onscreen.
When the 1960 classic Rat Pack version was in production, the actors filmed on location in Las Vegas during the day so as not to interrupt their actual stage show at the Sands hotel. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. and Joey Bishop starred in little more than a vehicle for celebrating movie stars onscreen. Much like their stage show movie audiences were essentially paying for the privilege of watching the legendary Rat Pack have a party.
Forty-one years later the 2001 remake , starring George Clooney and Brad Pitt, attempts to capture much of the same essence. With a twist. While there is plenty of movie star sophistication reminiscent of a bygone era, the film carries out like a movie within a movie with the bulk of the plot devoted to the execution of the heist.
My Big Ol’ Thesis: The real heist of the film is not the one onscreen but in its own production. Audience enjoyment stems from witnessing that the movie, much like the characters within it, is getting away with something.
Here’s a few examples to show what I mean.
Check it out man. George Clooney and Brad Pitt are teaching young hollywood how to play poker onscreen. And then they hustle them. And then they walk out of the club barely noticed by the adoring fans outside. The genius of the scene is that it is almost unnoticeable.
And then every great movie wouldn’t be complete without an inspirational monologue.
Pitt asks if Clooney had been rehearsing his lines because the movie is about making a movie. I mean in order to pull off the heist in the film they have to build their own set in order to stage it. The casino can’t even be robbed unless they pretend it is. Theater!
Here’s another fun revelation: The heist successfully completed the cast joins up at the fountain in front of Las Vegas’s Bellagio hotel. One by one they go their separate ways, commemorating a job well done. It’s a visual unfolding of the credits within the film, listing off the names of those who made the “production” possible.
Ocean’s Eleven is, literally, an onscreen heist carried out by the actors.
At least that’s what I think is going on. In watching the film, viewers are secretly reminded of the film’s production. Audiences get to become part of an elaborate inside joke that the actors knew all along: the exhilaration of getting away with something while everyone watches.
You too can get advanced degrees for writing stuff like this.
Ballin It Up: Cavaliers Owner Balls Up Himself
After 5 years of failing to assemble a good enough supporting cast to win when it counts, the owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers is pissed. And for all the wrong reasons.
In a letter to Cleveland fans that was no doubt meant for one former resident in particular. By now even non-sports fans have had a chance to check out this massive PR vomit fest so I’ll spare the recounting. But this epic piece of 7th grade level poetry and grammar bears repeating
I PERSONALLY GUARANTEE THAT THE CLEVELAND CAVALIERS WILL WIN AN NBA CHAMPIONSHIP BEFORE THE SELF-TITLED “KING” WINS ONE
Despite the grammatical errors and the fact that James had been instilled with that nickname by everyone in the world since he was 15 (thanks secret Nike middle-school recruiters), Gilbert’s rant is a clear case of projected narcissism that probably makes James’s decision feel that much better.
Though losing out on the chance find something positive to say about their hometown team The New York Times agrees as well. They point out that it is Gilbert who created the James monster. I mean have you seen the posters on warehouse walls in Cleveland the last few years? The Cavs are as guilty of stroking Lebron’s “Lebron-sized” ego as he is.
Rather than going further into rationally picking apart the reasons why this was a bad move for Gilbert I will instead engage in my own Gilbert-esque rant about why he looks more ridiculous than Lebron:
As if the Cavaliers have any clout to make such accusations. I hate to break it to you dude but you tried, and it didn’t work out. It happens. Bottom line: in a sport that is as focused on the spectacle and glitz as professional basketball, no one WANTS to play in Cleveland. It’s not like you had Lebron james because of some shrewd deals and a proven track record of developing winners. The Cavs were shitty like everyone else who is trying to up their draft stock and got lucky by just happening to have the #1 pick the year Lebron entered the draft. In other words, he was a GIFT to you, and you squandered it. Ok maybe that’s a bit harsh, but you definitely did not do enough to ensure well in advance that he would stay. Seven years is more than enough time to build around a player who is the best in the world. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: YOU CAN’T WIN A CHAMPIONSHIP WHEN YOUR SECOND OPTION IS MO WILLIAMS. PERIOD. And signing Shaq as if he were the answer to your woes? What is this 1996? 2004? I know for a fact it is not because those teams, the Lakers and Heat, HAVE titles, much like they will in the years to come. And I can tell you who won’t, the Cavs. And not because Lebron is a dick. He probably is. But that is as much a product of the Cavs elevation as his own. You had your chance. Now deal with it. You are obviously off to a great start with this letter showing every potential superstar ever that you will support a player until his decision is to not play for you. And then you will make him into an enemy.
That being said I hope the Heat get their ass handed to them in the Finals next year by LA. Need I remind everyone that Kobe Bryant and the Lakers do, in fact, still plan on playing.
