:: The Blurst of Times ::

:: 8.31.2004 ::

The President, the Soldier.

From what I’ve read lately, there seems to be a lot of dispute about how Candidate Kerry handled himself during the Vietnam War. I’m not sure exactly what the nature of the dispute is, I think it has something to do about him killing women and children, maybe about getting awards he didn’t ‘deserve’, maybe something about how he treated his men... suffice to say there is dispute. Once upon a time there was dispute about President Bush, too. Remember that? Of course we couldn’t dispute what he did ‘over there’. He didn’t even bother to fucking show up. In my mind, that ends all discussion.

But it brings up an interesting issue. What happens to someone in war and how does that reflect/impact who that person really is? Imagine yourself being eighteen again. When I was eighteen, let’s see, what was my life like. Hmm, I was over-the-top politically, obsessed with discovering what resembled intellectual discussion; I was constantly angry at everything, I ruined relationships with people, I failed to see some of the most obvious friends that I had; hell, I even thought Ben was a pretty decent guy. WTF, right? I was constantly infuriating my parents, and I thought a tattoo of a rose on my hand for prom was about the coolest thing possible.

So you’re eighteen, fresh out of high school, never been much out of your state, let alone the nation. On a philosophical level, maybe you’re torn between national duty and the desire not to die, or some sort of conflict between the wars your father and his father fought and the conflict you are currently facing, against an enemy you don’t understand. But more practically, you suddenly find yourself tossed into a jungle you don’t understand, surrounded by people you cannot relate to, all of which (or none of which) may be trying to kill you. You’re young, scared, away from home, and with people you don’t know. Odds aren’t bad you’re going to die without ever seeing your home again. Maybe you’ve got a commander who is a few years older than you (that’s about 21, maybe 22, still I’m having to think back about how I was then) who’s just as scared, just as alone, but has to be responsible for a lot more than his own ass in the same hell you’re in. So picture that.

I picture that and I know for a fact that I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like. I can picture it, but I’m picturing Platoon and Full Metal Jacket, not war. War, I have no idea. In fact, it seems that even the best, most well-reasoned people, react differently when placed under huge amounts of stress, and war is likely a huge amount of stress. So we’ve got an eighteen year old out there, to stupid to know that you can’t eat cinnamon rolls and soda pop ever day for lunch, and we expect him to never fuck up in war. Now granted, ‘fuck up’ in war equals ‘people dead’ in war, but that’s because of the gun in his hand, not something inherent in him.

I’m not saying soldiers are not responsible for their actions. I’m just saying let’s look at the bigger picture, like who put them in that situation, and what exactly is that situation, before we start casting stones. And if we can’t recreate the exact situation that occurred so many years ago, for the sole purpose of passing judgement, then maybe it’s all a moot point anyway. Yeah, Kerry might have fucked up in Vietnam, but he was eighteen and it was war. He didn’t pay to get out of it, and that ends the patriotism debate in my mind.

And for the record, Fred Flextimer wholly supports every American Troop and everyone who is forced to fight other people’s battles, and to me that means they all get to come (and go) back home as soon as humanely possible.

“The President said ‘Let it ride. Islam be damned. Make your last stand, in Tehran...”

:: Freddy F. at 10:34 PM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::

Thrill of the Hunt

So I have these two passions in my life: literature and music. Alright, that sounds a bit pretentious. It’s more like I really like to read and I really love to be immersed in music. But my passion for these two things goes beyond just experiencing them - I love to have them, to increase my collection of each. My dream is that some day I have a massive library of books and albums, spanning all genres, styles, qualities, and scenes. So, logically, I love to buy books and albums. And because I am constantly on the lookout for what I’m going to love next, I keep this great big huge list of stuff that has been recommended to me (or I have recommended to myself [don’t ask me how that works]) with me at all times. And whenever I go into a bookstore or music store, I whip out this big huge list and start trying to match titles on the shelf with the titles on my list.

But the list has no organization. And, because of my tendency to especially frequent used book and used music stores, the shelf-stock also has very little organization, or predictability for that matter. So the searching process is usually a long and arduous venture, which is alright if I have all the time in the world, but I never do. I’m always trying to do this over my lunch hour, or before a store closes, or in between errands, or what have you.

On the plus side - when I find something I’ve been looking for, it’s great. Nothing beats that feeling of randomly stopping at some ‘used records’ bin and flipping to some Jawbreaker album that’s been on the list for two years. But again, my time isn’t infinite, and it’s getting tough to bear with the drudgery of flipping past 38 random ‘No Hope’ albums looking for that last remaining NoFX album.

I could solve this problem. I could buy everything online. I’ve found most of it. There’s no browsing. The prices can be a lot better. I never have to leave me chair.

But I cannot bring myself to resort to this. It seems vile and vulgar. These people go to all the trouble (and passion of their own) to have these wonderfully dank, basement or attic or backroom stores that always smell the same way whether you’re in Manhattan, KS or Seattle, WA. I love these people and I love their stores, so it kills me when I feel like I have to abandon the search for something and just go straight online with it. But a guy can go weeks without finding a thing on his list (or maybe it’s right there in front of you, just tucked a little behind that old copy of War and Peace) and when you’re not bringing it home it just isn’t the same.

I guess the plan is just to keep looking. Maybe I need to have a bigger list, or be willing to risk more on bad stuff to be surprised when I find a true gem. But as it is, I’ve had to go to Hot Topic, in the mall, to find the last two albums that were on my list that I bought. [And speaking of which, the new Cypress Hill album ‘Til Death do Us Part’ is excellent, though not at all for the song done with Tim Armstrong].

“Yes, we’re battle tested. With the time and the emotion and the money invested...”

:: Freddy F. at 11:03 PM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::

The Moving Picture Review

Well, I can’t be serious all the time, can I? No, I can’t. And I watch movies. But I resolve to spend less time on movies that sucked and more time on movies that are actually worth saying something about. So away we go.

Zero Effect - It was funny. Not great, not critically acclaimed, but I enjoyed it and it seemed pretty smart - elaborate storyline and such.

The Wrong Guy - In my mind (the same mind that thinks Norm McDonald in Dirty Work is about the funniest fucking movie made in the 90’s) it doesn’t get much better than David Foley being an idiot. I’ll give him credit, he’s great at it. I laughed myself stupid. Stupid, I tell you. And Jennifer Tilly - yesssss.

The Searchers - Good. I think I told someone it was an anti-classic... is that proper terminology? If no one has said that before, can I coin it? It was troubling to watch, only for the reason that I don’t share the heroes’ beliefs. But, like many movies, the movie was only so-so until the ensuing discussion brought out the finer points. I need this forum people - it keeps me sharp.

Unforgiven - I kept waiting for this movie to really go over the edge, for Clint to just go apeshit and blast some folks. I have to say, it never really happened. Even the climax scene wasn’t what I thought it could be. I suppose the key here is that the movie is about the American West, not the romanticized version of the American West, where the good guy rides off into the sunset with the prostitute with a heart of gold. This is where guys die on the shitter, sheriffs are crooked, and the guys who kill them are drunks. So two movies where the idea of the ‘hero’ is skewed and distorted... almost to the point of reality, they weren’t Silverado, but they were good.

The Sopranos: Season 4 - This TV show (if I can humble it to call it that) has revolutionized how I look at TV. Never again will I strive to watch any TV show - I’ll just get it on DVD and watch it season by season. As far as the season itself, it was good, in a lot of ways more emotionally involving. Granted, I watch the other three seasons over a year ago, so the change might be in my, but it was killer to watch the family fall apart. I think it was made all the better by the fact that the third season wasn’t really up to par (except for the Barrons episode). I haven’t seen any of Season 5 (and the apparently upcoming Season 6), but I believe this was the season that begins the final descent into ruin. That’s a prediction, not a revelation of the conclusion, just a prediction.

Return to Me - These movies kill me, I’m a sucker for their charm. I’m smart enough to know that things like that could never happen in real life, but stupid enough to wish they did. I was funny, somehow original enough to hold my interest, not great and another fine example of how it’s great to be romantic as long as you have a lot of money to burn and are attractive. But I enjoy cultural humor, especially what was somehow a mix of Irish and Italian. A real feel-gooder.

Vanilla Sky - I know a certain someone is now saying ‘God, finally, he watched the fucking movie.’ I think I liked it, but I don’t know. On one hand, I appreciated the fact that the whole ‘surreality’ of the movie was explained in the end, to the character as much as to the viewer. It was even a memorable enough movie to go back and mentally rehash it and break it down once the proper revelations were made. All this as opposed to Mulholland Drive, which not only had to be explained to me numerous times, but I had to go back and rewatch parts just to make the explanation make sense. (Then I had to go back and rewatch some other parts, alone, in the dark... no wait, nevermind) But I can’t get around the fact that the whole premise of Vanilla Sky hinged upon a single man, who was incredibly rich and spoiled and lucky, and his vanity. And how he threw everything he cared about away because he couldn’t look himself in the mirror. Was there more? Cinematography and technicals aside, was there more to the underlying story than that?

Braveheart - Yeah, I’ve taken a lot of shit for not seeing this one earlier, but it felt too much like Top Gun to me - a movie that, despite the fact I have never seen it, I already knew everything about it. And I did. But it was good. For all the exact opposite reasons something like Unforgiven was good - the hero was pure and true, he came through everything unscathed (except for that last bit, but that was beyond his control), all the bad guys were bad and all the good guys were good. There was no grey. Alright, so I enjoyed it, it brought goosebumps at the end, but it was a movie for the sake of a happy ending.

See, you give me some time and I start to really get into the movies thing. It has been suggested that I begin Netflix. For many practical reasons, this sounds like a very good idea. Trust me, it is in consideration and I can only assume my readership here would be in full support. The only question is the commitment. And I don’t know if DVD’s fit in my mailbox.

“I used to wonder why did we bother. Distanced to one, blind to the other...”

:: Freddy F. at 9:27 PM [+] ::
:: (2) comments ::

And Connecticut Makes Three

Long, long ago... in a galaxy far, far away... there was a young kid who thought he had his life all planned out. For the last three years, he had been staying a (mostly) steady course. He knew what he wanted to do, he knew where he wanted to do it, and he knew who he wanted to be with for the duration. Last year, it all fell apart. He no longer knew any of the answers to those three questions; moreover he didn’t know any answers to any questions. The best he could do was tuck his tail down between his legs and stumble back home, scared, bewildered, and alone. Slowly but surely, this kid started to come around. Like coming out of a coma, he eventually regained control over his movements, speech, and even social skills. Things started looking like normal again. Aside from a few random encounters during that first semester back, things appeared as if they may have never been bad at all. Life began to fall back into place and the ashes were swept under the rug. And the rug was so wonderful, you could almost forget what it was hiding.

But I always knew what was under there. I always remembered. No matter how good it got, I couldn’t wash that feeling away, the last lingering alkaline taste at the back of your throat, you never notice it until you swallow, but it’s enough to make you shudder. It all haunted me. How easily it happened the first time - and how equally easily it fell apart. That feeling the first days after it ended - the feeling of being inexorably alone. I am grateful everyday that I do not truly understand the full extent of this analogy, but I came home and my house had burned down. I’d lost everything I spent years to pull together. And mostly, I’d lost all those answers. All the answers that let me sleep well at night, all the answers that helped me make the decisions, all the answers that made sense, right or wrong, they were my answers and suddenly they vanished.

I don’t know the answers anymore. Haven’t a clue, to be honest. I have, at best, an abstract idea of what I want to become, but no roadmap to get there, no companions, no understanding of what lies between here and there - where ever ‘there’ is. I once had a solution - I’d get away from everything, fuck it all, I’ll immerse myself in other worlds and find my fortune. Didn’t happen - couldn’t even start it - ran out of money. I had another idea: build, create, craft! Immerse myself in old friends and simplify. Didn’t happen either - got halfway down the path and had to turn back. Didn’t look like it was headed in the right direction - you can’t save the world if all you do is make little-tiny replicas of buildings that don’t exist yet. So I try something else - call it solution: magnetism. I would play the unmoving piece and just go where ever I was pulled. And I was pulled. And now I find myself in a city where I know no one, have no ties, feel no sentiment, and, most importantly, am not seeing any answers.

I got a call the other day from a model shop in Connecticut. Amazing the wave of nostalgia that swept over me, feelings from just a few months ago that seemed so foreign and surreal. They wanted to offer me a position, have me come out, check things out a bit, feel them out, and get to work. Suddenly, I’m back to being halfway down path number two. Did I make the right decision? If I had done something else, would I have the answers I’m looking for? Four months ago is as far back as I dare look. I know I could look back eighteen months, but that would probably kill me. I’ve never felt so adrift. If I look for answers will I find them? I wasn’t looking when I found them before, but I was young and stupid and didn’t know that answers could be spelled out so clearly. Now, maybe I’m just old and stupid, or at least older (and possibly stupider) but I know those questions are out there and I don’t know what to do but to try and answer them.

“This ain’t no Mecca, man, this place is fucked...”

:: Freddy F. at 10:31 PM [+] ::
:: (3) comments ::

The Flip Side of the Coin

Wow, $25 million. That’s a lot of bucks. If you take all the money I will make during my lifetime, if I didn’t spend a single penny from now until I was eighty - maybe even a hundred - if you take all that money I’ll make it might barely get to a million dollars. Maybe. So you take my entire college class and tally all of us up and if I make par for the course of what everyone in that class makes, the whole class isn’t going to make $25 million. That’s a difference. That guy is making a huge difference in the lives of those kids. And that’s great.

But we have to get away from the idea that money is going to be the most direct route to the solution. Yes, it’s a big deal and it’s what makes the world go ‘round (unless you listen to Huey Lewis and the News) and all that jazz, but is it more noble for that guy to give $25 million, or for some other guy who makes $12.50 an hour as a filing clerk to spend a couple Saturdays a month building houses for the poor? It’s great that someone cares enough to put that kind of money into a cause and not just back into his pocket, but the fact is that money only works when there are people who are willing to put the sweat and guts into it.

When he gives $25 mil to the kids, he’s probably got someone (or a bunch of someones) working with those kids or dealing with those issues on a day to day basis. If he’s the kind of guy who made all his own money, he’s probably still got that business to run - if he inherited it he may have other interests or he might spend time on that project, but I still have to imagine there are other people working for him on it. Those people are doing just as much, if not a more, to get this project off the ground and to the point where it is making a difference. Those are the people who are dedicating their lives to working to solve the problem, not just dealing with it peripherally. Those are the people I admire the most.

There has to be a change in mentality when it comes to solving the world’s problems. The idea of money being the biggest factor (or the only factor) must be laid to waste. Granted, you have to make money, but to make a profit is a whole different story. If said benefactor worked for profit for forty years, then donated $25 million to charity, how much was lost in those forty years? You can’t shit in the well your whole life, then retire to a crusade of purified drinking water. We have to start putting real human resources into these battles.

In education: We need more and better trained teachers - that requires money, but it also requires people who would make excellent teachers but decide to do something different with their lives, they need to want to be teachers. The environment: We need more sustainable resources, better waste management, better design solutions - again, still looking for money, but what about oil companies who keep putting money into finding more oil, or people still using styrofoam containers instead of recyclable plastics, or designers who just keep drawing the same old shit because they have been doing for fifty years now. In urban sprawl: Redevelop greyfields and brownfields, focus energy in mass transit instead of super-highways, stop making so many fucking strip malls and suburbs - well that’s what people are buying, so the developers and everyone on down are losing money if they stop with this practices. Money, again. But what if we could teach the people a different set of values? What if someone didn’t measure their success by their bank account or their car, but rather by the happiness of their neighbors, or better yet, by the happiness of people they didn’t even know. And not ‘what if someone’, but ‘what if everyone’ started thinking like that. What if it wasn’t pulling teeth to get people to recycle their newspapers or redevelop a downtown abandoned warehouse (not for luxury, gentrified lofts) - what if that is what people did because that was all they wanted to do? What then.

That’s what I want. I want to know that at the end of my life I have made the world a better place for the majority of people. I want to change it, make it better, make a difference by changing the way people think, act, and live. It sounds stupid and trite and petty, but when I’m dead and gone, there’s still going to be a lot of people trying to scrape by - what if I could make that scrape easier for them? I’m not talking a life of abject poverty or martyrdom, but I would welcome the opportunity to dedicate the vast majority of my life to fixing the problems I see as most poignant. I just have to find the right place for me to do that. And it will probably be in the private sector, somewhere.

“Don’t take money, don’t take brains, don’t take no credit card to ride this train...”

:: Freddy F. at 10:49 PM [+] ::
:: (3) comments ::

Instituationalized

It seems to me that you have two kinds of institutions in this world: those who work for money, and those who work for ‘a cause.’ [It is very tempting to put ‘good’ instead of ‘a cause,’ but surely we know I’m not that biased. And in all honesty, I know ‘cause’ has a million different, and some conflicting, definitions; but for the sake of argument here, it will suffice to group everyone who is not capitally oriented into a single category.] To get to the root of the issue, we live in a capitalist society, which is helpless to do anything but place money at the forefront of all forms of measuring individual or group success. Even groups who do not officially subscribe to a doctrine of ‘capital generating’ cannot escape the inevitable need to encourage those resources or have some sort of income to balance expenditure, even if the primary capital is human labor in the form of volunteer hours. These two institutions are constantly at odds as they portray the two extremes of the society.

At one point in time I believed (and maybe once this was indeed true) that it was the duty of the government to lead the charge of the ‘cause.’ Not that it was their duty to eliminate the evils of capitalism (though, I once believed that), or that they should specifically embrace the idea the cause embodied, but that it was their position, being the largest human institution, to ensure that the ‘cause’ was never wholly lost, that no matter how capital-based the mass of society became, there would always be a place of reprieve for those who were getting choked off in the cogs. The government was the defender of the little guy - quote whatever ‘social contract’ theory you like, there is a tacit agreement not to kill out neighbor and it’s all governments’ duty to enforce that. I believed that the government was the answer, that regulation of capitalism would solve the problem.

Now, I am not so sure. Not true, I am sure. I’m sure that government is not the solution. In fact, I would go as far as to say the government has become by now means the largest, but a significant contributor to the problem. It is naive to say that government, even the most democratic is not corrupt. One look at trillion dollar defense contracts, governors siphoning money out of education into roads projects for their family business, oil contracts, investing opportunities, and the current state of the aristocratic in the government says it all. It is no longer disputable that the government has become a capital focused entity, so we must move beyond that.

This means that private groups have to be where the stand to balance the economic with the humane takes place. The private group, run by individuals, under little to no regulation from the State, and free to generate and distribute income and resources at its own discretion. So my resolution is to support the cause, not the corporation, not the government. It will take me some time (some further reading, some additional education, probably quite a few more years) to figure out what ‘cause’ I will be supporting. Do I think education is the answer, reduction of the singular arms race, decreasing population growth, promoting environmental awareness or conservation... no idea. But I have resolved that the State is not the answer, it’s time to face the fact that it is no longer a democratic entity and it is time to move beyond that to fight the battle on more promising grounds.

“The cause, we’re just doin’ it for the cause...”

:: Freddy F. at 8:00 PM [+] ::
:: (1) comments ::

On On Liberty

So I graduated from college. Big deal. And I got a job with a big [faceless?] corporation. Big deal. And I’m very apprehensive about the future. Big deal. This happens to everybody, Fred. You aren’t the first kid to wonder how many more times you’re going to see the Price is Right now that you work five days a week. You’re not the first one to go from thinking about buying plane tickets to Europe to thinking about buying a living room lamp that matches your sofa. You’re not even the first one to fret about your future and what is in store for you, wondering if you will ever live up to what you told yourself you would become.

No, I’m not the first. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about why I’m apprehensive, why it feels different to graduate from college than it does to do any other thing I have ever done before. And I think I’ve pegged it.

Learning has come as easily to me and breathing. For this, I know I have been blessed, and I have been grateful for it every day of my life and have never allowed myself to take this ability for granted. Since the beginning, I knew that I could learn everything that I wanted and all I had to do was open my mind to it. And for the first 23 years of my life, I placed myself in an academic setting - an environment specifically created to educate. There was nothing to it. All I had to do was show up and people were standing there with big buckets of knowledge (or small buckets, depending on who was standing there) ready to dump into my gourd.

Now, I am out of that academic setting. I’m scared that I’m going to stop learning. Someone once told me that if you aren’t green (referring to being new, inexperienced, young, or learning), you’re dying. It made sense in that classroom and it’s words I take to heart today. I always want to be green, but now that I am outside the academic community, I’m afraid that I won’t And it’s easy to say ‘Well, Fred, for chrissake, just keep learning.’ But it isn’t that easy. On the outside, you lose the forum, you lose the constant battle of ideas, you lose the midnight involuntary brainstorming that comes from constant deadlines and unachievable goals. As compromised and devoid of originality as the academic community I was in sometimes seemed, there was always a challenge if you allowed yourself to face it. And I enjoyed facing that challenge, challenging myself and others if I could.

So I read Mill, and Nietzsche is next, and after that I have Plato, the Christian Bible, and James Joyce to conquer. I’m intimidated, but I plan on taking it on as a learning experience. If there is anyone out there who would like to participate in a forum about any of this with me, I welcome (with open and hopefully arms) all comment, public and private, critical and analytical, anything to re-create the academic atmosphere.

I doubt that I’m able to stay out of school for much more than five years, no matter what happens. There is too much I want to be, to learn, to see, and to do. But I cannot allow myself to be sucked into a routine based around my job alone. I will use this blog as the fodder for the public forum, so I hope everyone out there has something to say and says it.

“Max sees his world through the brightness, eyes to learn, hope to glow in the dark...”
:: Freddy F. at 10:02 PM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::

Sweetness Follows

It seems like every time I sit down to write here my mind enters a weird twilight zone that is a combination of ‘drawing a blank stage fright’ and ‘I’ve been away so long and have so much to tell.’ It’s very odd. And somehow unsettling.

And I’ve noticed (and it has been pointed out) that the quality of writing I have displayed here has taken a marked decline. And for that I will take a good portion of the blame, but the sort-of-writer’s-block I’m dealing with is also at fault here.

So these things have been on my mind. I walk past my computer, sitting idly in my ‘studio’ and think, ‘Hmm, I should just sit down and write something.’ But then I scurry past, off to some other non-event that is not pressing. I have this same problem when it comes to phone messages - the desire to be minimal, yet substantial and usually the messages just come out muddled and unintelligible. All this, coupled with the fact that I feel like when I write something, something I hope other people take the time to read, it should be substantial and worth reading. In the end, I put a lot of pressure on myself and things often come out lacking.

[As a sidenote - writing in a weblog about writing in a weblog is no less pretentious than making a Waking Life, and I wholly apologize to anyone who, while reading this, feels like I felt for the duration of that film]

To come from a different angle: I just finished reading “On Liberty” by J.S. Mill. I haven’t really picked it up since high school and I couldn’t remember if I made it through the whole way when I read it then or not, so I decided to read it cover to cover, especially utilizing morning and evening bus time. As I’m reading it, I realize that I am formulating arguments and rhetoric in my head relating to what I am reading. But anymore I really have no outlet for that kind of rhetoric [this point will be discussed further in an upcoming post]. So I developed a plan (and even wrote it down on a little notepad I keep hovering around my living room for just such occasion). The plan is that I will begin seriously writing, more for analysis that pure commentary. This means the blog will take less of a humorous slant (if there ever was one) and more of an analytical slant. this will not make some people happy, others may be pleased, and the other 5.999999999 billion people on this earth will continue to not give a flying fuck.

But to me, this is something.

And in the end, what else do ya got?

“If I could sing the world to sleep. If I could sing myself deaf...”

:: Freddy F. at 12:29 AM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::

Dear Blogger: You Suck.

Alright, blogger, you don’t really suck, but you have lost three out of my last five posts and, frankly, I just don’t even recognize you anymore. I try to stay away, but I can’t, I always come back, and then you just hurt me again. Why? Is it me? Have I done something, said something? Would you tell me? I know we’ve been on and off for a while now, but I think we’ve got something good here and I don’t want to lose it over some silly server problems. But you’ve changed, man, and sometimes I just wonder...

I skipped the Warped Tour. Instead, I went to see these dudes. There were a lot of teeny-boppers there and I had to ask myself ‘Fred, the next time you see Anti-Flag, do you really want to be standing next to a girl in a Good Charlotte shirt talking on her cell phone.?’ The answer was no, so I skipped it. Whatever. Is it ironic or coincidental that the society and culture that I have become disillusioned with is the punk culture? [I think that’s irony, right? Where have you gone, Dave Eggers...] I now rebel against the current state of punk by wearing ties and supporting WalMart.

It’s been updated and that’s good. It’s long and it’s funny, but would you expect less from my blood? Alright, so we don’t know where her funny genes came from.

It’s been added. Read and enjoy.

My faith in true love has been renewed. Alright, so there’s a lot that has renewed my faith in true love. Maybe she’d like to continue that, eh? This didn’t help, but that was a long time ago. Onward and upward, right? In any case - congratulations to the doctors.

“I said, if you want to call me baby, just go ahead now...”

:: Freddy F. at 10:18 PM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::

[Title]

So, while I fought it for awhile as a glimmering fad, I have decided the 'titling an entry' idea is a good one and will from now on adhere to that concept here at flextimer. So now, when I'm writing lots, you can read all my clever titles; then when I stop writing for months on end, you don't have to read an entire paragraph each time to know that nothing's changed, you got the title to go off of.

Also, while we're on the topic of this page, I'd like to make a sincere apology to everyone out there. Here at flextimer, we try to maintain and deliver a high standard of product for you, the reader. Adn we'd like to think that most of the time we accomplish that. Now, I'm not going to say we're writing in the calibur of The Sun or possibly Fox News (whose credibility and integrity are by far unparalleled and unquestioned in my mind), but we're trying to keep it at least as real as, say, the World Herald. But today it was brought to my attention that I had erred in my last post and defamed an otherwise worthy movie in comparison to another. The Beach was nothing like Lord of the Rings, as I enjoyed Lord of the Rings enough to see it (essentially) three times. No, my friends, I had hoped to compare The Beach to Lord of the Flies. A completly different concept there. For everyone who read that adn became so instantly disgusted with my opinions and ideas that you immediately vomited all over your monitor and keyboard, I apologize. For those of you who became so upset that you vowed you would never read another word of what appeared here, I can only hope that someday, down the road, we can bury this hatchet and resume the good ol times. And for those of you who didn't really notice it because you really just skim through this stuff, especially when, Fred, dammit, you're just getting way too wordy, god how can you go on and on about some movie and frankly, what do you know about movies because you're so far out of that loop you couldn't tell a gaffer from a best boy. For those of you who did that - wel, fuck you.

But I digress.

Today's entry will officially be titled...

Fred Flextimer, International Literati

Yep, we're gonna do some book reviews.

Ragman by Pete Hautman. Let me begin this review by saying that I hate the concept of 'a gun is fired and the people react by not understanding what is going on.' To wit: 'He heard the noise of a car backfiring just as the first red blooms appeared on Rita's breast. "That's a hell of a nosebleed," he thought, when he heard the second and third report. HE felt a dull pain in his leg as a second blossom opened on Rita's sun dress.' No offense, Hautman, but you're an idiot. A gunshot really sounds nothing like anything else in the world. I've heard a gunshot. I've heard a number of gunshots. They sound a lot like... gunshots. Not car backfires, not someone slamming a door. When someone get's shot, they don't take a James Cagney-esque stutter step around and grab their chest and reach for the sky. People usually crumple and cry. There is little dignity in being gunned down. There is rarely the Hollywood slo-mo shot accompanying the event. So, suffice to say, I might have liked this book more if the last five pages hadn't gone as I just described, but in the end, a book best gotten from the library, not the book store.

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel DeFoe. I can't remember the last time I read a book with such a white supremest slant. It's the equivalent of reading a Ptolemeic version of the universe - or watching Back to the Future 2, where it's so wrong that you have to laugh, but you forgive them because they just didn't know any better. While the discussions of ethics, religion, and social structure and equality ought to be very impressive when written through the eyes of someone spending thrity years alone on a deserted island, this book frankly (no pun intended), misses the boat. For 200 pages he goes on about how he cultivates and land and animals on the island, then when he meets a man again for the first time in 25 years (it happens to be a black 'savage' of the Carribean) he 'tames' the man, teaches him Christianity, proper grammer and to refer to him [Crusoe] as 'Master' and be his servant. Nice. Way to grow beyond the confines of typical 18th century anglo-european thought. Obviously, the world would have been better off if you had died alone on that island and the story had never been found. And to have the nerve to write the man thanked Crusoe and pledged himself over to be his servant until the day he died. Rubbish, I say.

[Which brings us to an interesting side note: I read in the paper today a quote: 'I will continue fighting. I will remain in Najaf City until the last drop of my blood has been spilled' I think that's the AP quoting radical Shiite cleric al-Sadr. Also read today in RC: 'that he would take my side until the last drop of his blood was spilled' That's Caruso quoting one of his servants. Creepy. Everyone is all about that last drop of blood.]

Beowulf by... who knows. This was the best book I've read in a while. It was quick, simple, understandable, poetic (kind of, I'm sure before it was translated it was more poetic), meaningful, unpretentious, and fantastical. I could ask for little more in a book. Granted, it was no Inferno, but it was better than the Aeneid. Predictable, but that's okay, because it had a timeless honor to it. I'm now anxious to read Grendel (what I assume is a parallel story).

Alright, that's long enough. Take care, y'all.

By the way, if you work at Land Design in Denver and you're talking shit on me, I'm going to fucking kill you.

"Gimme that, your automobile. Turn off that smokestack, and that goddamn radio..."
:: Freddy F. at 9:44 PM [+] ::
:: (1) comments ::

So, we're going to call this the movie edition.

The Beach: This movie was one part Rules of Attraction, one part Titanic, one part Jaws, one part Lord of the Rings, and one part Dude, Where's My Car. I was not as impressed as I heard I would be, but overall it was entertaining and not so mucha waste of time. In the end, I thought it was probably trying to be a big social comentary on something, but really it just taught me that because Leonardo DiCaprio is a beautiful person (and I mean that in an honest kind of heterosexual way) people like to have sex with him. In the water.

Way of the Gun: Nice. Well done. Good story. Good setting. Bloody. Very. But still entertaining, and nothing was really lost because of the violence. Twisted, yet touching. In the end, it all worked out, but in a way that made you think it was supposed to, but not because it was a movie. However, I will say that even if I was beign shot at, I wouldn't jump into the well in the center of an abandoned town. Hell, it could have been ten feet deep for all he knew.

American Psycho: Also nice, also well done, also bloody, but a much better soundtrack. Good social message too. I'm sure I can't say anything about this movie that someone hasn't said in the past, so I'm not going to try. I will jsut say that if there was ever a question about me entering into the world of stocks, money, and business, it has been forever and finally answered. I won't.

Small Time Crooks: Weak. It was funny, but not really laugh-out-loud. There is just something frustrating about watching Woody Allen stumble and stammer around for an hour and a half. It's one thing to have something insightful to add, or it's another thing to have bumbling idiots flailing around, but somehow, Allen doesn't pull off any of it with dignity. However, speaking in a strictly physical appearance sense, the resemblance is becoming truly uncanny.

El Mariachi: Thus begins my attempt to watch the trilogy of these movies. This one was good and I enjoyed it, dispite the subtitles. I'm not sure where it's going to go because it seems like the end really wrapped itself up, for all practical purposes, so I don't know where he is driving off to with the dog and the weapons, but I'm sure it's big because it's got to be enough for two more movies. Stay tuned for more on that.

As a final word. In an attempt to make this blog more interactive we're going to have a little vote. This Sunday, the warped Tour comes to Detroit. Should I spend forty bucks to see a half a dozen bands that I haven't seen much of but want to and a bunch of bands I've never heard of, or just end that particular chapter of my life and be content to live as a punk rocker vicariously through my music collection. Remember, your vote counts!

"I was here before they exploited our scene, I'll be here when they're dead and fucking gone..."

:: Freddy F. at 11:29 PM [+] ::
:: (2) comments ::

Alright. You're in. Just, maybe, lose that first link. You know, he doesn't look nearly as bad in real life as that picture makes him look.

Movie Review

I watched The Believer tonight. It was good. Not American History X good, but much better than what I had been watching. And it started out a little pretentious, but after a bit, I settled in, and it settled in, and it was all good. Disturbing content really. I'm amazed that there are people who believe stuff like that, like hating Jewish people (am I allowed to use the term 'Jews?' I feel like that would be a faux pas after watching that movie). I could almost say that I would never hate a mass of people like that, for no reason other than a single underlying factor, something that they really have no control over... but then I hear about people registering to get their wedding presents from WalMart, and I really have to wonder.

Dishwasher Review

So the one in my apartment wouldn't work right. So I complained. And they gave me a new one. He's a nice guy named Carl. We talk baseball.

Weblog Review

These three blogs tie for the best comeback after a prolonged absence. One has the East-of-Saddle-Creek connection, one I hope implied that he accomplished after his friends wedding what I was too drunk to accomplish after my friends wedding last year, and one let me know that he would likely be driving within a mile of my house on his way to detroit. You three are neck-and-neck-and-neck. Who of you is man enough to take it all?

Alright, I'll give it to you for the uplifting comment. (By the way, I am currently enrolling to be a bone marrow donor - that's not too giving is it?)

And because even the blog-less deserve to have their name in lights, I'd like to wish Sylvia a great first week of work in Topeka and I hope things really start to come up aces for you.

"Today was a good day..."
:: Freddy F. at 9:38 PM [+] ::
:: (1) comments ::

A Story of Pain

So on Saturday I decide to drive to the library to check out some books. No big deal, just some nice pleasant books that have been on my list for years and now I have a little free time to get them read. So I'm driving to the libray with the window down, listening to some tunes, when out of the corner of my eye I see something small and buzzy fly into the truck. Really, it didn't fly into the truck, so much as hit the back edge of the window-hole and fell into the truck. And really, when it happened I saw what it was, but I wasn't going to panic - I figured it would just buzz around and eventually chill for a bit or find it's way back out of the truck. Well, I didn't count on the wasp falling between the back of the seat and me. And apparently in the small world of the wasp, this is an act of aggression that demand retribution. So it started stinging me. And I let it go a couple times and kept driving, even going so far as to lean forward to let it out. No, this is also apparently an act of aggression, so again I get stung a couple times. So now I decide, fuck it, I tried to let you go, now I have no choice, and pressed myself back against the seat to crush the bastard. Nope, once again, he starts stinging, only this time he can't move anywhere, so I get stung a number of times in the same spot.

Being stung by a wasp is painful, but it's now a eye-popping, i-just-smashed-my-thumb-with-a-hammer pain, it's more like aah-its-burning-and-I'm-breaking-into-a-cold-sweat kind of pain. And I just gotta grit my teeth and bear it until I get to the library and upon getting out of my truck, turn around to see a wasp calmly fly out the open window.

A Story of Greater Pain.

While I would like to think I have lead a life guided by principles and beleifs greater than just impulse reactions, I would not consider myself to be a politically active person. I'd like to think that I put a lot of thought into the decisions that I make, so when I say, 'yes, I do support that' or 'no, I don't agree with that' I am making the statement based on logic, rationale, and my personal understanding of what I believe is the greater good. So when, in my early years of college I began to learn about the WalMart corporation and the dynamic it has with communities large and small, I began to form opinions. Three years ago, these thought manifested themselves as an outright boycott against WalMart, nothing major, just a personal refusal to purchase their products. In small town Kansas, this is not the easiest of vows, but I stuck to my guns and even became more against what WalMart did and stood for. The fact that the WalMart became a Super WalMart only reinforced these ideals and I hoped that my future included at least the witnessing of the demise of the Walton Corporation, if not an opportunity to be an active participant.

On Friday, I was assigned to my first major project. I would be working with a planner and a developer to develop a retail/office center on a site that is a buried unregulated landfill, meaning it is filled with garbage, hazardous wastes, medical wastes, etc. Since no housing can be placed on a site such as this and the businesses that take over the site will have to do a large amount of work to remediate the pollution that is currently leaching into the surrounding water systems, the situation seemed promising, that I would be doing something to make the current global trend/situation better, something that I want my life to stand for, when it is all said and done. Then I learned what reatil the developer was courting.

I feel dirty. I feel like leaving. I feel like throwing up my arms and saying'fuck it, I'm obviously on the wrong path here. obviously AA is not for me, this firm is not for me, this career is not for me, and certainly WalMart is not for me.' I felt like turning back to a certain someone who once told me that building models is a hobby, that I've got too much to offer to not become a landscape architect, and that this firm is, in his experienced wisdom, a perfect match for my ideals... I feel like turning back to that person and saying 'just what the fuck were you talking about. what fucking dimension inthe space/time continuum were you thinking of when you suggested that I give Michigan a try.' And then I want to turn to myself and say 'Hey, Fred, just what were you thinking? You had a feeling in your gut and you ignored it. You had that feeling that you have followed your whole life, that feeling you know has gotten you a lot of good places the first 23 years of your life, that feeling you have ignored before and it's come around to bite you... where's your feeling now, man?' And I honestly, honestly don't know.

I'm feeling low, I tell ya. I'm putting twelve years of general education, five years of professional education, a year and a half of professional experience, twenty-three years of life experience, and all the faith that everyone has had in me along the way into doing what I do today. And today, the best thing I can do is make a better WalMart. If I wasn't me, I'd punch me right in the face.

I'll give it time. But that's not a blank check. Don't think I'm not watching my every move. This will not become a trend. This will be a fluke. I just need to ride it out a bit...

"Hey, don't write yourself off yet. It's only in your head you feel left out or looked down on. Just try your best. Try everything you can. And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away..."

:: Freddy F. at 9:21 PM [+] ::
:: (0) comments ::