The One About the Fat Cricket

Thursday, April 02, 2009 | comments (4)
There is forever a new set of words each day. We change them like pairs of shoes. And it's harder to hear them over all the other sets of words that make up this grinding sonic landscape. We chirp and croak in these public places we've come to inhabit, all loud and reeking, humid with hot-breathed irony. Hundreds of sincere people all practicing the same sardonic tone.

And if you stop for a moment and you're quiet and you just listen, you'll hear it—frogs in a pond, all going on about this thing we're thinking. Right now, at this moment. This minute. This second. The fat cricket on the cattail. Again. The uncomfortable temperature of the water. Again. What's the trend? What's the topic? Chances are somebody's done it. Chances are somebody's said it. But that's okay. It gives the topic weight. Substance. What matters is that you say it. Do it now, before it's too late! Nobody cares if you say it in a new way. Just rehash it. It's still you. Always you. Now look for the next thing. Because there's a certain see and be seen aspect to this stuff now. It's no longer about the voice. It's about being in the pond. And, holy crap man, you better be in the fucking pond. Because if you're not, what are we to make of you?

What, indeed?

The social Web is killing our voices, not empowering them. Killing style. Quality. The unique, the idiosyncratic, lost among all the others who are unique. And idiosyncratic. There is only the cacophonous symphony of isolated, anonymous frogs, croaking and lonely on our lily pads and just burping these things we've heard...whatever. Whoever. It doesn't matter. Hello? Echo.

We are at the same time more connected and more isolated. More aware of each other and less together. We stand among each other and tell the same jokes, endlessly. We speak at each other. We generate content. We build our fucking brand.

Oh, and have you heard? It's fashionable to be broken. And damn aren't we lucky, that?

Moses is sick of my bitching and carrying on. At Starbucks, he sips his coffee and taps his finger and looks out the window. He has cleaned up a bit. He wears dress slacks. A button up shirt. His hair is slicked back. He looks downright respectable.

"These things I do are kind of ridiculous," I say.

"Everything we do is ridiculous," he says. "So get on with it."

link to this | comments (4) | File: 

« Instinct, Muscle Memory, and The Art of Being a Bad-Ass
Brand Me »



Comments

It's not exactly a perfect fit, but this exchange reminded me of one in the film version of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

Slartibartfast: Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I think that the chances of finding out what's actually going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say, "Hang the sense of it," and keep yourself busy. I'd much rather be happy than right any day.
Arthur Dent: And are you?
Slartibartfast: Ah, no.
[laughs, snorts]
Slartibartfast: Well, that's where it all falls down, of course.


Posted by Hammer on Apr 02, 2009 at 10:48:02 AM
In a Scottish accent: "Fuucken Brilliant!!" And in my own accent: "Yes! Huh? Baroo? Totally!Hmmm.lol and sigh"
And this was like a shot of weird and dose of therapy for me.

Posted by kim on Apr 03, 2009 at 3:38:13 PM
as i stroll into my place of employment. i come upon a couple of women. i step into their conversation about something being cheaper at such n' such and you better hurry. automatically i feel like i'm listening to my family, and it makes me irritated. then i remember a fantastic quote from some person or other about hating what we are.

Posted by j on Apr 04, 2009 at 12:14:07 AM
some days ...i just *heart* you to death...
ive been trying to say what you said for weeks...thanks..
xoxo

Posted by suicide_blond on Apr 08, 2009 at 3:04:10 PM

Related Posts

In TheLine . . .

06.08.2009
Then there's the whole problem of choice. Goddamit. We like to think having choices makes us happy. But we now know the great paradox about that, don't we? That the more choices we have, in general, the less happy we seem to be. Because there's the fear of making the "wrong" choice. And there's the regret that comes with making a bad one. And, of course, in a certain time and place, every choice can seem like a bad one. At root, I think is the illusion of control we like to maintain.

04.20.2009
And so I took my pen and I scribbled on the piece of paper three things as I climbed the stairs. So I wouldn't forget the feeling, and so I could describe them in a way that might make sense.

03.05.2009
Sometimes this spot--the one on my glasses, the right lens--sometimes, it doesn't bother me that much. But sometimes, like right now, it's all I can see. And I have to cock my head back in an abnormal way in order to get it out of my line of sight.

02.27.2009
Of course, there's the whole balancing issue. I'm sure part of the problem has to do with that.

02.11.2009
Moses has been showing up at the dog park lately. He wears a hoodie over layers of other clothes. His face is all eyebrows and a beard the color of road snow. We talk about the economy. He says things like, "When you're an architect, nobody wants to put you on retainer."

02.05.2009
Well, he had on underwear ... oh, and a hat. But that was it. And the boots.

02.04.2009
They've got expiration dates, those things.

01.28.2009
So I went outside in the morning dark. The town already wide awake, excited, true. Like the quick intake of breath. Like the root and the stir. Like the clutch of a tongue-tied pinky swear. And packed purposefully into layers of clothes, I went chasing the down and the din.

12.02.2008
When I go to sleep, I hope that I will dream. Usually, I do not. When I do, the dreams are usually bad. I'm thankful anyway.

11.12.2008
What is it? Do I stink?


In Chewing . . .

06.08.2009
Then there's the whole problem of choice. Goddamit. We like to think having choices makes us happy. But we now know the great paradox about that, don't we? That the more choices we have, in general, the less happy we seem to be. Because there's the fear of making the "wrong" choice. And there's the regret that comes with making a bad one. And, of course, in a certain time and place, every choice can seem like a bad one. At root, I think is the illusion of control we like to maintain.

04.16.2009
Hi. I am a brand.

03.27.2009
On my days off, I'd visit Juan. It was like my day at school. Because I was young and new to bartending. And Juan, who was a good ten years my senior, worked at one of the busiest Mexican cantinas in Dallas. He was, unequivocally, a bad-ass. And I felt like if I put in enough time observing him, that I too would be a bad-ass.

03.05.2009
Sometimes this spot--the one on my glasses, the right lens--sometimes, it doesn't bother me that much. But sometimes, like right now, it's all I can see. And I have to cock my head back in an abnormal way in order to get it out of my line of sight.

02.27.2009
Of course, there's the whole balancing issue. I'm sure part of the problem has to do with that.

02.11.2009
Moses has been showing up at the dog park lately. He wears a hoodie over layers of other clothes. His face is all eyebrows and a beard the color of road snow. We talk about the economy. He says things like, "When you're an architect, nobody wants to put you on retainer."

01.28.2009
So I went outside in the morning dark. The town already wide awake, excited, true. Like the quick intake of breath. Like the root and the stir. Like the clutch of a tongue-tied pinky swear. And packed purposefully into layers of clothes, I went chasing the down and the din.

01.12.2009
Right now, I have several pairs of wearable jeans. But not one of them is my favorite. My favorites all have big holes in them. And that leaves me with no old standby to wear to anything that isn't a Poison concert or my monthly Grunge Club social. Even then, it's really just too cold to wear these swathes of denim. So instead, I wear one of The Others.

01.06.2009
Out of all the things I lose each day--my keys, my hat, my sweater ... my sobriety, my dignity--the thing that bothers me the most is a lost voice.

12.02.2008
When I go to sleep, I hope that I will dream. Usually, I do not. When I do, the dreams are usually bad. I'm thankful anyway.