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Ok, so by now you’ve heard of the TORNADO that made Brooklyn its bitch early yesterday morning. This is funny, especially considering an earlier post of mine about being woken up in the middle of the night by cacophony. Well, yesterday morning Southwestern BK had its ass handed to it, and this is where I happen to live, thus my routine pre-dawn apocalyptic wake-up was a tad more apocalyptic than usual. I awoke to hear the fucking clash of the titans at about 5 in the morning. At first I was like, ok Matt this is no big deal, it’s a storm – it’s fine. Yeah, not so much… I eventually went in my living room and looked out the window and it was like that scene from Terminator 2 where Sarah Connor is imagining the H-bombs blowing through a playground. You remember that scene, right? She’s at the chain link fence screaming as the children are turned to dust. Well, that was me. Except the chain link fence was the window in my living room and the children being blown to dust was a myriad of trash, branches, rain, and general debris blowing across Church Ave. A real WTF moment.

So I eventually think to myself, “yes, this is fucked up, but hey I’m sleepy, peace consciousness, I’m out” and I went back to bed, sleeping surprisingly well after.

Mellissa left at like 7:30 for work, only to return at about 8:30. Her report was of mass chaos at the subway station, hundreds of people on the tracks, freaking out and waiting for a phantom train that would never come. Trees fallen down all around the neighborhood, store signs broken, store-front windows busted in, and hundreds of people waiting for buses. Oh, and just a general level of trash and debris everywhere.

So I look outside: well……. so this is what the post-apocalyptic world looks like… Yeah it was crazy. All the trains stopped. MTA dudes on TV telling everyone to stay home. Cars stranded in floods in NJ and LI.

The tornado hit three neighborhoods the worst: Bay Ridge, Sunset Park, and Kensington (my neighborhood). I guess Borough Park was probably hit as well, but I don’t think they have discovered electricity yet so who would know?

There is a nice little K-town shout-out on page two of the Times article. They mainly write about the corner of Church Ave. and Dahill, which is… wait for it… exactly where I live. They mention a pizza place whose sign was destroyed. That’s Dahill Pizzeria, who actually just remodeled their place, sad. It’s right across the street from me. The taped-off street they mention is Story, which is right outside my window. I feel special.

The neighborhood is still pretty messed-up. Branches and crap everywhere, several cars destroyed. But we can pull through, right? Oh wait, nobody who reads this lives anywhere near Kensington…

“It is essential that misfortune should suffer; its humiliation, its pains are among the number of Nature’s laws, and its existence is useful to the general plan, as that of prosperity which crushes it; such is the truth that ought to stifle remorse in the soul of the tyrant or malefactor; let him not hold back; let him blindly deliver himself up to all the wrongs the idea of which arises within him; it is the voice alone of Nature that suggests this idea to him; it is the only way in which she makes us the agents of her laws. When her secret inspirations dispose us for evil, it is because the evil is necessary for her, it is because she wishes it, because she requires it, because the amount of crimes being incomplete, insufficient for the laws of equilibrium, the only laws by which she is ruled, she requires the former moreover for the completion of the balance; let him not therefore be frightened, or stopped, he whose soul is carried on to evil; let him commit it without fear, as soon as he has felt its compulsion: it is only by resisting it that he would outrage Nature.”

-from Justine by the Marquis de Sade

I have been endlessly fascinated recently by de Sade’s writings. They are essentially horrific, despicable, amoral, exploitative and incredibly unique, thoughtful and provocative. This novel is subtitled The Misfortunes of Virtue and it is more of a platform for his radical, even for now, philosophies, than a plot-based novel. It’s somewhat of a bastardized version of traditional Socratic dialogue, with lengthy philosophical discussion between characters.

This passage is really interesting. He is arguing against Virtue; in fact the entire book is, as is obvious from the title, a full-on philosophic attack on the benefits of Virtue. Yes, it’s real out. Several subtexts are interesting in this quote. The one that stuck out the most to me is the emphasis on the feminization of “Nature”. Mother Nature of course is the derivation, but for a figure as misogynistic as de Sade to base the core of his morality, or should I say amorality, on the submission to an abstract notion of Nature that he excessively feminizes is very intriguing. Continually using the pronouns she and her is oddly provocative – especially given the tone: “because the evil is necessary for her, it is because she wishes it, because she requires it” – as well as because of the prolificity of de Sade’s erotic literature, much of it involving S&M; the term sadism is named after him. De Sade believed that his only master was in fact Nature. A devout atheist, there are famous tales of his excesses and debaucheries involving various desecrations of religious symbols. How could such a man not sexualize the only authority figure he maintained any sort of deference to?

Although he makes very interesting points in this tirade – it is essentially an excerpt of a long monologue one of the characters gives in the hope of convincing Justine to abandon her Virtue and sleep with him – there is a crucial point of his logic that I disagree with.

In this passage he argues a now-common modern argument against excessive moralism:

“…let him blindly deliver himself up to all the wrongs the idea of which arises within him; it is the voice alone of Nature that suggests this idea to him…”

The idea is: if it is in our nature, then how can it be wrong? This is definitely a remarkable concept, more so for when it was written in 1791, but if you continue down that path of logic then the argument collapses by its own merit.

If the argument is that since Vice has always existed in Nature then it must be natural to pursue it, then couldn’t you argue that Virtue is in fact natural as well? Virtue had to come from somewhere; it came from nature. It is in our nature to elude suffering just as much as it is to seek selfish gain, and somewhere back in our past we realized that we could reduce suffering by instituting rules and programs to try to teach and enforce behavior that would bring about less suffering for people. Whether this was, and is, successful is debatable, but impulses and desires on a macro level do not just form from society. The primal desire for safety is what created Virtue, just as it created the common behavior of living in packs, which was probably a precursor to organized enforcement of safety conditions.

That said, the passage, and much of the book, is endlessly thought-provoking. I would really recommend people checking out some de Sade. You have to have a strong stomach though, his writings themselves are extremely graphic and sadistic. I would say Justine is a good starting point. Don’t do what I did and start out with 120 Days of Sodom, unless you are ready to start out with some ridiculously twisted writings.

I’m at the Apple Store in Soho yesterday. I sit down for a minute in that little amphitheater place they have upstairs, half paying attention to the presentation the AppleClone is giving. It’s on the new iPhone, which admittedly fucking rules. So he is closing his presentation and he, like totally, goes:

“So yeah, the iPhone is really incredible. I have one and it has totally changed my life.
It’s better than learning Buddhism.“

Wow. I mean… wow. Like, I’ve long thought that the Apple culture has been more and more resembling a cult. But this kind of takes it over the edge. It’s becoming downright like scientology (ps. spell-check just flagged scientology because I didn’t capitalze it… what is the world coming to?). I’ve been long creeped out by the droves of AppleClones at their various stores with their black shirts, fashionably tussled hair, their confident swagger that just shrieks “I’m a 2000’s guy. I find my inner peace in a small metal contraption that fits in the palm of my hand.”.

And yes, I’m a Mac owner. And yes, I fucking love their products, goddammit.

But seriously, fucking put a bullet in my head if I ever start acting like
this godforsaken abomination of mankind:

Well, until about 2 weeks ago anyway. This week’s podcast features music all drawn from my Recently Added Playlist in iTunes. Music I had never heard until very recently. Features music by the Magnetic Fields, Architecture in Helsinki, John Lennon (can you believe it???), Los Saicos, The White Stripes… Oh and an extra-special version of The Transformers theme song by the Rough Rider Brass Quintet!

Mafoo’s Podcast 5/20/2007

Mafoo’s Podcast RSS Feed

Part of the grand Paris Hilton news paradox is that the fact that she merits no news and makes the news is news in itself. You wanna read that again? The fact that she merits no news and makes the news is news in itself. Even though I respect the intentions of Mika Brzezinski and the AP, who recently instituted a weeklong ban on Paris Hilton (which failed), you can’t help but view the attempts as futile. The more people that grow sick of seeing Paris on the news, the more people there are who agree with these actions. And the more press these actions receive, the more press Paris Hilton receives – repeat formula ad infinitum. Yes, in the clearest sense of the phrase, regarding Paris Hilton – resistance is futile.

Paris is celebrity in its purest form. Celebrity for celebrity’s sake. Celebrity comes from the Old French word celebrité which means “solemn rite or ceremony”. Paris Hilton is a totem in which our society manifests its aggression and disgust for itself projected onto a vapid, smiling blonde. Her powerful presence of aloofness was a major force is the creation of the ritual. Somewhere early in her career, one of her handlers or agents must have given her the simple advice of: “no matter what, keep a confident air on yourself at all times”. So her career began as a mockery of the obsolete position of debutante and the people felt less than shameful about the parallel adoration and desecration of her character (character in the dramatic sense).

Her celebrity was, in the truest sense of the etymology, birthed as a ritual – a rite of sadism, however unsolemn. Society hated and loved her and treated her as the masochist in an abusive relationship. The problem was, she never gave in. She never showed her pain. So like any responsible sadist, we increased the abuse. She didn’t give in. Finally, society demanded what any S&M sadist demands: restraint. For the masochist (or totem, because what really is the difference? Just look at Jesus Christ…) it might be ropes, chains, straps (a cross). For the iconic figure it was prison. Finally came the zenith (climax?) of her career, her celebrity: the moment when she cried and asked for her mommy while being sentenced. Society and the media went crazy. We loved it. This was the release we demanded. A moment where we could wash our personal pain in the tears of Paris Hilton. The completion of the ritual. This is not to say that we are finished with Paris. The ritual just completed a cycle. Most likely we will continue until she commits suicide. Dark? I know, but it’s the truth. Just look at Anna Nicole Smith, who documented her fall from grace in a TV show, which we all watched to feel better about ourselves.

I’ve personally never viewed Paris as attractive, I’ve never viewed her as unattractive. She just is. The irony present in the clearest view into her personal life, her sex tape (which I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit I’ve watched), is that behind the cameras, smoke, and mirrors… she’s really just some chick. She doesn’t say anything offensive, belittle the poor and unfamous, she doesn’t act conceited, she doesn’t really do or say anything at all that’s interesting, well aside from, um… the sex. She is American Girl X who happens to be wildly rich and famous, which is pretty much what every celebrity really is. Celebrities are our Gods and whipping boys. Some would argue that our Gods are our whipping boys.

One thing I know. Any attempts to flee the cycle of emotional deliverance that the Paris Hilton ritual affords us, the more aggressive and public the flight the better, will only serve to add flame to the fire. Maybe it’s better just to enjoy the ride. Hop on the Paris train! The destination? Well, her eventual public death most likely. But the ride promises to be full of lots of ups and downs!

Here is a video from a couple of weeks ago of MSNBC anchor Mika Brzezinski tearing up her Paris Hilton script live on air. Unsurprisingly, ranking douchebag of the decade Joe Scarborough tries to stop her and downplay the incident. But she holds firm, refusing to lead with the non-news of Paris getting out of prison over Senator Lugar’s defection on the Iraq War. At first she tries to light the script on fire, then tears it in half, and when given another copy puts it through the shredder. Now this could be a ploy, but judging from the uncomfortable reactions from Scarborough and the dumbass to her right, it seems pretty real. The look on her face when the two unabashed company men launch into the Paris story is priceless.
PS I apologize for the preceding commercial, but it’s short.

“Have you never been mellow?”
These epic words were the title of Olivia Newton-John’s 1975 song and album. My response to that question is well, yes Olivia I have, um… ever been mellow. And if you listen to the selection of songs I have up on this here Myspace page, well damned if every single one of them ain’t rather mellow. So I thought to myself, why don’t I up and get myself unmellow on a song for a change. Most of the people on here have never heard my screaming chops (here’s a vocal tip: you don’t have to worry about pitch and tone as much when yer a’screamin!)

So I chose a rather unlikely song to get my scream on:
Somewhere That’s Green from Little Shop of Horrors. It’s a gorgeous, cooky little song that I wuv lots and lots.
And for you too-cool-to-know-your-musicals IDMers and Indie Rockers, I thought I’d add a video of the song from the movie for your viewing and listening pleasure:

So give my take on the song a listen. It’s kinda different.
Mafoo

Every once in a while you have those mornings where you awake, and you have lost all sense of temporal and spacial perspective. This is all the more exacerbated if your sleep is less than at its deepest. This is kind of ironic – one would think that the deeper the sleep, the deeper the immersion into that false reality we call the dream world. As anyone who has ever slept with/near me knows, I am an incredibly light sleeper. A fucking baby batting an eyelash two buildings away will tear me out of the most fathomless drunken passout. Ok, a slight hyperbole there. But I am a light sleeper.
Now, anyone in NYC this morning must have noticed, and been awoken by, the apocalypse-sounding thunderstorm. I never read the weather reports (I’m from L.A…) so it sure as hell came as a surprise to me. Now somewhere in my formative years I had instilled in me the fear of the apocalypse (I wonder where…). But it occurred when I was young so I can’t really break the fear, no matter how much logic I throw at it. This is not a conscious fear. I am not afraid of the apocalypse, rapture, armageddon… But I have these near-subconscious moments where that fear bubbles up to the surface. This morning was one of those rare times, but I was surprised to find myself greeting my impeding doom with more of an air of annoyance than mortal terror.
Really the only time I believe in apocalypse is in the middle of the night, when I am awoken by something loud. I remember living in Rochester during my senior year of college – this was just after 9/11 – and in my new apartment at East End, right next to the famous Hotel Cadillac, being startled awake by inhuman sounds like the clash of immortality just outside my window. Caia would always tease me about shooting up in bed and exclaiming, “Shit’s going down!”. This happened several different times.
The reality was that it was the police and fire dept screeching their sirens and blasting their horns as loud as they could at 4:30 in the morning in an overeager response to some ghetto shit at the Hotel Caddy. Dead prostitute, overdose, malicious case of AIDS… oh wait, that was in my building (seriously…).
Oddly enough, the depressing reality of the actual reason for the cacophony never kept me up at all. I could sleep like a baby knowing that messed up stuff was going on, it was the fantasy world that frightened me.
So this morning was a turning point in a way. I was up late working on a track, and spent most of the night thinking about the track, so I had only been asleep an hour or two when the (apparent) apocalypse hit. What is funny in retrospect was my reaction. It went something like this:

“Wha-what the hell is that?? Shit, that is really fucking loud! The end of the world? Goddamn it, I just fell asleep!”

For real. My clearest emotion was a type of sulking anger that I had just spent several hours lying in bed trying to sleep, and now it was the apocalypse, thus ensuring that I would not in any circumstances be getting enough sleep for the night.
Is this me letting go of the fear, or just me turning into a bitter, young curmudgeon?
It reminds me of Marv’s final scene in Sin City. While strapped into the electric chair, he is being read his list of crimes. Interrupting the guard, he growls,

“Hurry up, I haven’t got all night!”

Can you believe it? Another podcast? Try to contain yourself. If you enjoyed the last one, check this shit out!
I changed the format a bit: Now I know you all love my wonderful speaking voice, but I cut down the spoken interludes, so now it’s a couple songs in between each interlude. Also I’m introducing a new feature for this podcast: Great Moments in Auto-Tune!

For this week: Blonde Redhead, Kate Bush, Crispin Glover, I like that color (yours truly), Bobby Goldsboro, and bunches more.

Mafoo’s Podcast #2