Although I haven't read Fyodor in a while, he still manages to work his way into the things I try to do. Not that it was a complete surprise or anything. I definitely became aware of it as soon as this "crime" idea came up, and I became some kind of amalgamation of Raskolnikov and Dmitri. (Crime & Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov, respectively) And then I totally lifted the "wax pathetically" line straight out of Notes From Underground. (at least I'm 90% sure it was that one. Definitely Dostoevsky again tho) Which isn't to say this is about Russians. I also stole "I'm already dead" from deadboy and the Elephantmen and "Love will tear us apart" from... well... you know. But that's also not to say that this is all about other people either.

Allison made me think about some pretty difficult stuff the other day. Stuff that, I suppose, I couldn't really wrap my head around. So now there's this. I'd already ripped off the drum idea from Jew(s) and Catholic(s), and I'm pretty sure the little guitar thing was stolen from somewhere too. Or maybe it's just one of things that everyone with minimal guitar skills plays. The song structure was stolen from just about everything that Scott and I have ever done. Or at least just about everything that I've ever done. And the vocal melody was an attempt to copy what Chris Randall (of Sister Machine Gun) did on the "Rock Radio Mix" of L.A. Style's "James Brown Is Dead."

And I think that's all I tried to steal. "I'd rather be a killer than a victim of circumstance." After I fenced all of the stolen goods, this exercise in possibilities was the result: Thieves and Murderers Oh... And it turns out that "languidity" isn't a word. But it should be.

Labels: _self, Dostoevsky, filboyd studge, music

I was supposed to be watching Blood Diamond tonight... but I couldn't be sucked into sitting in front of the tv for an extended period of time. It just felt wrong for some reason. Even though it's raining and lightninging and is perfect for a movie. For some reason, however, it just seemed more perfect to read. So I did. Finally back to C&P in some minor fashion.

There's a bit... two words, really... when Raskolnikov is having that one really important conversation with Sonya after the memorial dinner... the words "painful indifference" come up.

At first glance maybe it's an oxymoron and Dostoevsky is stupid. Then I actually think about it, and it's just a feeling about one's lack of feeling regarding a separate situation.

Which really isn't all that special.

I mean, to me personally, of course. What is special to Me, Personally is the idea of "painful indifference" as a state into which one enters knowingly. Being unable to really care one way or the other about a situation b/c caring precludes Movement. Confusion of Direction. Change. Uncomfortable Situations. Obfuscation of Purpose. Indifference to the possibilities of the unknown is the only defense.

Maybe it's more on track to say something about how indifference is forced once you realize that something you care about is no longer something that exists. (or has the potential to exist)

Yeah... that's got to be more what Raskolnikov was getting at. (wow... I'm probably so totally making this up) He's got to tell Sonya this thing... that's a bad thing. That, in his mind, ruins any idea he has about what his life could be like with this girl. (she's, like, an ex-hooker, I'm pretty sure. (The is the Russian version of Pretty Woman... (except that Richard Gere is a murderer... (which is maybe better than that gerbil thing...)))) What?

So, he has to force himself to become indifferent about what he wants b/c he sees it slipping away. Or, more to the point, being harshly ripped away. That's pretty painful indifference.

I mean, I guess it is.

...

Of course, he did kill that old bitch, so maybe it's just karma.

But, poor Sonya! I would like to put together a phrase that would make a handful of people pause and consider the place of that phrase in the world. Adjective + Noun would be nice I think. Adverb-ly + verb seems like it would be too "Refrigerator poetry" or something.

Labels: Books, Dostoevsky

This will be a terrible post because I don't really have time to do it right. But if I don't do it now, I'll forget.

I'm having a terrible time finishing Crime & Punishment... not because I'm not interested (because I VERY much am), but just because I'm having a hell of a time finding time to actually do anything.

Regardless, I took my first actual lunch break this week and managed to get through chapter 2 of section 3. It was so awesome. Raskolnikov and Razumikhin are talking to Porfiry, and the subject of an essay written by Raskolnikov and published without his knowledge is broached...

uhm... Raskolnikov being the main character who committed the murder and Porfiry being the lead investigator in the crime...

but that might not matter for what I care about at the moment.

I'd love to read Raskolnikov's essay in full...
Basically, there are two types of people... "ordinary" and "extraordinary." Ordinary people are given to following the rules of law. Given to and expected to. Not following the rules gets you in trouble. And, if another person breaks those rules, the ordinary people also want THAT person to get in trouble.

I don't know much about this, but I *think* that's a pretty Socratic way of thinking, right? Provided that ordinary people agree to live following these rules and reap the benefits of doing do, they also agree to accept (and mete out) punishment for failing to follow the rules. And I say "Socratic" b/c wasn't he the one who chose to stay where he was and accept the penalty of death instead of fleeing the country? Because the fact that he lived and was born there precisely enabled him to live and be born at all? And the social structures there enabled him to become who he was? Maybe I'm stretching. Or maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Extraordinary" people are those for whom committing a crime is allowed. In a theoretical sense anyway. And not only allowed but, in some cases expected. I'll try to clarify (albeit poorly and with not as many words) as Raskolnikov did... If Newton, being an extraordinary man, needed to step over a few dead bodies to bring this new "gravity" idea into the world, then so be it. Which is not to say that he is allowed to walk around stabbing whoever he damn well pleases. Or just stealing haphazardly. Acceptable crimes, if you will, are only those committed in the process of attempting to bring a new idea into the world. Reason being that it is simply extremely extremely rare that anything truly "new" is brought into the world.

Another example he used was Napoleon and his codifying the nation's laws. In order to bring about any kind of new order, an old order must be broken. Which, by definition, would be contrary to the rule of law.

Anybody with me?

At this point, I should also note that I know nothing, and this is purely my interpretation of what happened while I was eating chicken salad at McAllister's.

And I'm not (necessarily) endorsing McAllister's.

Although... if someone from McAllister's reads this and wants to pay me to endorse the restaurant, I'm game.

So. Being the high-minded individual that I am, I take these scenarios lain out by Raskolnikov and try to apply them to something that's going on now. Guess what came to mind... Yeah... that fucker in the White House.

And let's only take one of the dumb fucking things he's done and call it a crime... say... I dunno... invading another country that didn't attack us and whose people weren't asking for "liberation" and for which there was inconclusive evidence that they even could attack us or had anything to do with an attack on us. Most of the time, I'm pretty sure that's considered an act of aggression. And most of the time, I'm pretty sure, homey don't play that shit. Unless you're Tibet and China attacks you b/c, damn, we're not going to fight freakin' China!

Sorry... the point, for argument's sake, is that george bush has gone outside the accepted limits of power and responsibility. Right or wrong, (and, right now, I'm not making that judgment) he did it.

So my question is... Is george bush an "extraordinary man?" He's caused the deaths of thousands and thousands of people who would, otherwise, be alive. (for the most part) And he did so in the name of this idea that was outside our current understanding of rightness. (Or, at least, outside MY understanding... well, mine and a significant number of other people) There really was no codified law against what he did (as far as I know), but he definitely did it against the wishes of a large LARGE number of people in the world. (again, I'm not judging yet) Is he extraordinary for going against the wishes of millions of people, multiple other sovereign countries, and the United Nations?

And does that make me "ordinary" for balking at his audacity for believing it was his preogative?

Unfortunately, it seems like the only way to discern "ordinary" from "extraordinary" is one's will to accomplish their goals and put their new ideas into the world. The goodness or rightness or wrongness or morality of those ideas is not yet debated. How can it be? These ideas only exist within the mind of the extraordinary person! And again, by definition, it would seem that these new ideas would automatically be condemned as "wrong" by the "ordinary" masses since it goes against accepted knowledge. Only history can judge these extraordinary people regarding the rightness of their decisions.

Raskolnikov (or maybe it was Porfiry) also said that, "Ordinary people are the masters of the present while extraordinary people are the masters of the future." (fucking beautiful idea laid out beautifully and this "quote" is from memory.) Rarely is an extraordinary man lauded for their extraordinary ideas during their lifetime - rather they are vilified and reviled. (like I do with georgy-poo.) If their idea turns out to be judged to be "good" then other people (perhaps other extraordinary people) latch onto that idea and don't let it die with its author. (I assume, anyway... how else do new ideas become old ideas?)

ok, ok... enough. There's so much more about punishment for those extraordinary lawbreakers (like Socrates... he took it... and was fine with it), but I think that's more than enough for now.

So my questions and/or points? - Does believing in your new idea enough to do whatever it takes to see that idea become accepted enough, on its own, to make you "extraordinary?" - Is anyone who is in opposition to a truly new idea simply "ordinary?" - Should all extraordinary people be given the opportunity to flesh out their ideas?

Initially, while I was reading, my answer to that last question was, "yes." Until I realized that not all "new" ideas are necessarily "good." (And I suppose I'm really only talking about social ideas here... not like, "Maybe we can get to the moon with a slingshot" kind of ideas or anything... and yes, Newton and Ptolemy and Kepler and Tesla had practical ideas, but, in their time, these ideas had large social repercussions. I think.)

Right. I said I was through talking. I hope no one has read this far down. This was crap, but it helped me think to type it out.

Labels: Books, Dostoevsky

A few days ago, I bought someone a present. I also bought myself a present, b/c that's what I do. My present was the hardcover of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I'm trying to read Catch-22, but it's going slowly. It's funny and entertaining, but it's not really grabbing me. It's not really fair to pick up Dostoevsky in the middle of trying to read anything else b/c the "anything else" will definitely suffer. Poor Joseph. At least he was friends with Kurt Vonnegut... *sigh*...

So, anyway. That was, like, 2 days ago. Then yesterday, I picked up the hardcover of 1987's "Kraven's Last Hunt" by JM DeMatteis and Mike Zeck. First time I read this story was in 7th grade when doing one of those "spend-the-night-with-a-friend" things. One where we, mostly, just got to sit around all night and read piles of comics. That was fun. I remember really liking it. And I've since purchased the individual comics and reread it. It was still good... and the art... Man, Zeck was ON. I reckon maybe even non-comic readers might recognize the cover to Web of Spider-Man #31?



Or maybe not. I dunno, but it's awesome.

So far this has all been setup for the actual point of this "story." I read DeMattheis's intro to the book and, while interesting, the basic idea is one that I've heard before in many different ways. What really caught me, however, was this:

But buried in this Marvel Universe entry was one intriguing fact: Kraven was Russian. (To this day I don't know if that was something that was established in continuity or if the writer of that particular entry tossed it in on a whim.)

Russian?

Russian!

Why should that excite me so? One word- Dostoyevsky. When I read Crime and Punishment and the Brothers Karamazov in high school, they seeped in through my brain, wormed their way into my nervous system....and ripped me into shreds. No other novelist has ever explored the staggering duality of existence, illuminated the mystical heights and the despicable depths of the human heart with the brilliance of Dostoyevsky. The Russian soul, as exposed in his novels, was really the Univeral Soul. It was my soul.

And Kraven was Russian.

In an instant, I understood Sergei Kravinoff. In an instant, the entire story changed focus.

(Thanks to Cyberman on the CBR forums for typing this for me as I forgot to bring my copy with me.)

It's that "One word-" There's something about seeing someone who has "made it" as it were refer to one of your own... heroes. Can I say that? "Heroes." It all kind of just fell into place. I haven't yet begun Crime and Punishment, but I read the intro. And even reading the intro it was like coming back to something comforting. And while reading the "Kraven" intro, I was just waiting for it. As soon as he said, "Russian" I got all tingly in anticipation of seeing "Dostoevsky" on the written page in front of me. Thereby bringing together two different but very similar interests. It was exciting and thrilling... and really really lame. I think it pretty much officially makes me a, howdoyousay, "loser" for being excited by seeing the name of a long dead author in a reference in the introduction to a hardcover collected edition of a comic book.

Regardless. It did make me happy. And allowed me to read the story in a whole new light. Kraven's character immediately became a thousand times deeper and more interesting. His motivations became so much clearer, and I felt like I could identify with him more as an actual person than a two-dimensional character. Simply by having the connection to Dostoevsky's characters and the amazingly lucid histories associated with them.

Did I ever get to an actual point?
Dostoevsky is still amazing.
Mike Zeck was a wonderful Spider-Man artist.
DeMatteis creates a great story.
All of my verbs are of the wrong tense.

Re-reading this story again through this new filter made it like I was reading it for the first time. Perhaps the best $20 I've dropped in a while.

And here are some pictures I took in Amsterdam.

They're all of the same thing, but I can't figure out which one I like the best. Timing is everything. Or something like that.

Labels: Amsterdam, Books, Comic Books, Dostoevsky

For all the flowerly language of love and kings and evil done behind closed doors, it's rare that Shakespeare speaks truthfully and directly to ones soul. I say this as I rapidly approach the halfway mark of Brothers Karamazov and awaken from my own blindness and isolation ever so slightly with each reading. BK is quickly becoming my Bible. The abiguous words of Paul and the much interpreted statements of Christ can't hold a candle to the direct and often combative words of Dostoevsky. His language is clear and plain and to the point. Oft illustrated by the most poignant of narratives, I've never been so painfully close to desperately wanting to live a different life.

My respect for Kurt Vonnegut only grows as my meager mind attempts to grasp the realities and illusions of ideal reality put forth by Dostoevksy. I realize my mind is nothing like his, and that my understanding of whatever universal truths are being espoused is so incredibly obtuse... I'm sure that, through the dense language and meaningful antecdotes the ideas available are tenfold of that which I am able to grasp. If I was a strong man instead of a sick man and a spiteful man I would rise to the occasion and forge, in myself, a picture of the ideal. Now that I can see that ideal so clearly. But I, like most, am attached to things that I've learned to love. And those things aren't freedom. And they aren't love. And they aren't brotherhood.

Zosima's words are amazingly prophetic. Our stuff is our freedom? While it's not an uncommon idea among those with vision, our stuff holds us hostage. My car doesn't make me free. The music that I claim to love doesn't make me free, nor do the stories in which I lose myself. Is it not all transient? Did Edison really do the world a favor? Or is the true nature of music present only in its ephemerality? My house isn't my castle. It too simply constrains me. The solitude and silence that I pursue to the detriment of all relationships provide only the illusion of freedom and never a true peace.

This all sucks. My random thoughts of things that have already left my mind. Dostoevsky's grasp of what it means... rather what it SHOULD mean to be a human living with humans is amazing. Here's hoping I don't learn only to forget.

Labels: _self, Books, Dostoevsky, Kurt Vonnegut

I haven't written anything of consequence in a long time. Or maybe ever. I finally finished reading Notes From Underground this morning while I was driving to work. And, really, just Wow. I love it very much and, on Kurt's thoughts that the Brothers Karmazov contain all the answers to life, I think that will be my next read.

Except that I kind of want to pick up Anna Karinina too... or Catch-22... or The Stranger... and read it correctly this time. Not like a kid in a sub-par English class in a sub-par high school. Yes. I think that's what I shall do. It was recommended to me to read To Kill a Mockingbird (which I should do), Angels & Demons (ehh... probably not...), The Road Less Traveled (by Peck?? Again, probably not), and Still Life with Woodpecker. That last one seems quite interesting too.

But I'll still probably go with Camus.

Since last time, there has been a filboyd studge album recorded by myself and my friends. www.filboydstudge.com. You may go hear and listen. Fair warning: It is not "good," nor was it intended to be "good." Which is not a statement to ward off criticism. Just don't expect much. Berlioz, it's not.

Walk the Line was good.
Harry Potter was incredibly boring. Again.

I've also recently learned why people underline. While reading something I can't understand, the underline has become a tool of great worth. It draws my attention to the sentences I don't understand, which helps my ADD ass focus on it and actually comprehend without having to read the first three words 17 times over and over and over and over and...

I've also been told to checkout
Pinback
Sea and the Cake

bands. I'm telling myself that so I don't forget.

I'm glad noone ever taught the world to sing.

I know you've gone
on your own way
Noone should bear
these words I'm about to say
these words I'm about to say

I see you've climbed
up your own tree
the rope has been raised
so I wax pathetically
so I wax pathetically

Labels: _self, Dostoevsky, music