WAY TOO GODDAMN HOT

Rug out, floor swept and mopped, some areas of walls washed, furniture mostly back in place. New fridge tomorrow. Don't ask me about sorting out any boxes. Cleaning will resume when I am not HALF DEAD FROM THE HEAT: 97 degrees Fahrenheit today, highs of 100 predicted for tomorrow and Monday, heat indices around 110. I mildly dislike and disapprove of home air conditioning in this climatic region except for about two weeks each summer, and we are in the second of those weeks now.

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Disturbing conversation with landlord while rug was being taken out. Very nice guy in many ways, but he talks proudly about, for example, the time that one of his sons almost killed two young black men who were harassing a couple of white girls; his son beat them up to the point that it was entirely possible that he might have killed them, which scared him badly, not so much because they would've been dead but because of the consequences he could have faced. Knowing my landlord a bit and having met his sons, I see no reason to doubt this.

Landlord also mentioned startling facts about his own residence: "I have tons of doors and stained glass windows and miscellaneous fixtures in storage, from all these old Victorian houses I own. My own [slightly dilapidated Victorian] house has nine bedrooms. I use six of 'em for storage space, plus a couple garages. My one son said 'Dad, you should get rid of all this stuff.' I said 'But when I'm gone, you'll inherit all of it!' Son said, 'Okay -- get more!'" These people are fucking crazy, more than a little scary, and Persons of Squalor in their own ways to boot, it would seem, but they've been nice to me overall.

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Watched Team America: World Police for the first time this weekend. I liked it a lot, especially the songs, but cannot cope with the self-satisfaction of the guys who made it. To wit (from an October 2004 interview):

Stone: It's about optimism, though. That's the big thing about the movie; that end message is about American optimism. And that's the difference between America and the rest of the world, because if you go to Europe, people are not optimistic about the future there. And Americans do have a naive optimism about that -- it's not just us, and the fact that we live in this L.A. bubble -- I think all Americans have this naive optimism and have for a long time. And a lot of times it's naive, and it's unfounded, and it's even wrong, but it's somehow that optimism that keeps America looking forward and trying to make the world better. And I really do think that's something that's unique to America that doesn't exist in a lot of the world.

And it can be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Stone: Exactly. A lot of times it fuels the good things. Sure, it's stupid, and a lot of times it's a big smile while eating a big shit sandwich, but you just keep going, you know?

Parker: But another thing that goes along with the optimism part of it is basically the idea of, well, if I'm not going to have a fucking great time and I'm not going to really appreciate and enjoy and say life is great, then there really is no hope. Because all of the hope for the world is that there can be a great life, and to me, I'm proof of that, that there can be a great life. And yes, it's all about trying to dole that out to as many people as possible, but it's also about, when you have a great country, and it all works, and your life is awesome, then be able to say so! But for some reason, it's almost taboo to say, My fucking life is awesome, and I have a great time, and I have a sweet house and a nice car. People are like [using a scolding voice], "Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

Stone: Especially the richest people in the world, which we know some of in this town, you know? [Angry voice] "The world is fucked up!"

Parker: Look, we were below middle class growing up, and I had a dream that someday things were gonna be better, and I assume that's the way it is in Third World countries. So, if you're not going to enjoy the dream, then there's no hope for anything.

"A sweet house and a nice car" -- the very definition of "a great life" for most Americans.

I don't know for a fact that I would make different choices if I had a lot of money at my disposal -- though I think, and certainly hope, that I would -- but I tend to be offended rather than impressed by displays of wealth. (I am also offended by empty displays of righteousness from the wealthy, but I don't think they should shut up about inequities -- on the contrary, I think they should talk about them all the time, plus give away a whole lot of money, to organizations and individuals personally selected by me.) My inability to hide this attitude has caused me trouble in the past, in the workplace and socially. It's not like I launch into rants; I try to be polite, but the effort probably shows.

If I could easily afford a one-bedroom apartment in my neighborhood rather than a run-down micro-efficiency, plus really good health insurance and a semi-nice stereo, I would be materially comfortable beyond anything I've known as an adult or allowed myself to hope for, and FAR beyond the means of most of the population of the planet. In fact, I already am immeasurably better off than most people in the world, and my sense of entitlement to same is not large.

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It's hard for me to define what socioeconomic level I come from. I never had to worry about having enough to eat, or clothes to wear, or a roof over my head. On the other hand, my parents were constantly stressed about money (they had to declare bankruptcy at one point); the arguments and tension over money matters were endless. They never owned a house, but insisted on renting in expensive suburbs, moving about every other year due to financial and/or marital crises. (From fifth grade on my schoolmates were, almost uniformly, from families ranging from "very comfortable" to "very rich," and I absorbed my parents' feelings of being outclassed by those around me.) My father had a hard time hanging onto jobs; my mother worked only intermittently, and resented having to do so at all; neither of them had careers, just a succession of medium-crappy white-collar and pink-collar jobs. My mother grew up in poverty during the Depression and had lifelong envy-fantasies about aristocracy and wealth, while my father's family, as far as I could tell, had been middle-to-upper-middle class in a style that might have been called "shabby genteel" in the first half of the last century. Then there is the fact that my parents basically hated each other but couldn't quite be bothered to divorce; my father in particular seemed to resent what he experienced as the economic burden of having a family. I have the distinct impression that both of them regarded my early academic success primarily as a sort of retirement fund.

At some point I think I just said to myself, approximately, "Fuck it, these people are nuts and I cannot care about any of this bullshit." Unfortunately, by then I had also sustained the kind of emotional damage that makes it hard to actively care very much about anything at all, so I'm not personally a good example of any kind of alternative, but I like to think that I can now sometimes recognize theory and practice that makes better sense and is more useful than what I absorbed early in my life, and can now maybe learn a bit from it.

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This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin

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"...my morals end at 100 degrees fahrenheit. when the temp's above 100 i can wear shorts, drink at work, stab people, steal stuff from people's desks, etc." -- M@tt He1geson: Real Name, No Gimmicks