Mid-Mid-Life Crisis?

Lately I really want a motorcycle and leather jacket. Really, I do. I've never had any inclination towards either of the two, but lately it's all I can think about.

Now, I don't want just any motorcycle and leather jacket. No, I don't want to be the middle-aged man looking to buy a shiny Harley and cruise like Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider, uh uh, no; nor do I want to be some a-wipe in a leather racing jacket and cargo shorts swerving in and out of traffic on his lime green crotch rocket. No, I want the Marlon Brando or James Dean-style shit: cropped leather racing jacket on a simple, black motorcycle. No flash, no pomp, just a GD motorcycle.



I hope you're getting the aesthetic here. Now, for the jacket, a simple leather cafe racer jacket will suffice. I realize this deviates a bit from the ones pictured above, but simplicity is key. I'm thinking brown, because, let's face it, I'm just not tough enough for black.*

As for the bike, simplicity is again the key. I've put a lot of thought into this part (arguably the most important part), and have come to a brand-based decision: Triumph motorcycles. Here is one of the original Triumphs ridden by Brando in the pictures:

This is a Triumph Thunderbird, which they don't make anymore. So, as a fitting replacement, I'm going with either a Bonneville:

or a Thruxton:

of course, either would suffice. They're pretty similar in design and price, and I would definitely go with black, although I saw a pretty badass dark green Bonneville a while ago.

But let's be realistic, I could easily find the leather jacket for an affordable price on ebay, but will I ever get the motorcycle? It's certainly not affordable considering that we're buying a house and getting our masters degrees. Which brings me to another point: why the hell do I want them now? Why was I so content not to have one before? Is it because we're buying a house and getting a master's degree, two things indicative of being a "grown up?" I mean, I did just see Tears for Fears at the Chateau St. Michelle Winery, and if that's not grown up material, jesus, I don't know what is. In this case, perhaps it's a mid-twenties life crisis, or a mid-mid-life crisis. Am I subconsciously seeking my youth through a reckless, endangering form of entertainment?

In the end, maybe I'm just overthinking it. I mean, it is a motorcycle after all. They're awesome. Beyond that, do you need another reason? This is an open call: call me if you want to ride.

*There are some of you that are thinking, "Ben, you're not tough enough for any of this, why are you worrying about the color of a jacket you'll never get?" To those people: piss off, a-wipes.

Dollar Stores: Multiple Universes?

I don't like dollar stores.

They creep me out; there's something unsettling about the people who work there (day-time tavern maids), the smell (dirty Rite-Aid), and the products. The thing is about the products - and they have almost everything at the dollar store - is that I don't recognize any of them. There are no recognizable brands in the store, as if these products never really existed. It's like entering a parallel universe, similar to our own universe, but with subtle variations. You can't quite put a finger on the differences until you look closely at the shelves. Surely no one in our universe has bought a ceramic rabbit playing football and put it on their mantel; what kind of power sources does this sister universe use that makes batteries so affordable?

When I force myself to look closely at the food products (perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the dollar store), I expect to find the change in names you see in science fiction novels. For example, in The Golden Compass, a bar of chocolate is called a bar of "chocolatl," as the cultural-linguistic history of the word "chocolate" never occurred in the GC universe. Sure enough, the dollar store universe seems to share most of our important historical events, because the names of ingredients and manufacturing towns are the same.

With that being said, no one has heard of or seen these products. They must be from somewhere/time that never existed in our own universe.

I wonder, then, if it is unnatural to co-exist in multiple dimensions. In this, I mean that if we exist too long in the universe that is not our own, do we put our health at risk, or worse, the existence of these co-existent universes? Many sci-fi stories have concerned theirselves with this conundrum. What happens if I eat this $1 cereal or package of nuts I've never seen? What will happen to my hair if I use this shampoo brand I've never heard of? What happens if I drink this pop that never existed?

Whether this is the case or not, I will not ever enter this dollar dimension long enough to test the quantum limitations.

TFF! USA! TFF! USA!

List of awesome things:
1. Tears for Fears.
2. Drinking wine.
3. Eating crab cakes.
4. Watching Jimbo (dad) do a half sprint to get good concert seats.
5. Watching Jim do things #2 and #3 and then start to dance.

There are few places you can do all five of these things, but I have managed to find that place: Chateau St. Michelle. Jimbo refers to it as his "special place," and I'm happy to say it's now my happy place too.

Sure the wine's way overpriced ($40 a bottle!), and sure it's in Woodinville (more like Woof'nville), and it's festival seating, but let me assure you that it's the most brilliant concert venue I've been to in a long time. That means a lot coming from me because I really don't like to go to concerts anymore; people bug me, it's overpriced, and it takes too long. Last night, o night, was perfect.

First of all we spent a looonnnggg time in line while my parents chatted up some people behind us. Turns out he's a local basketball coach. His brother (cousin?) starts talking to us

Ok pause, because I could best explain it by describing Ash, our new friend, as the East Indian David Coy. A talker, charming, quick thinking, and overtly social, the guy can hook you.

Unpause.

So David, er, Ash, and Jimbo start talking about seating. Jimbo lets Ash & co. in on his strategy for finding the perfect spot, Jimbo's El Dorado if you will. Ash tells Jimbo that he's following him and that they are now best friends. He also promises him a "sick" bottle of wine.*

When the doors open, Jimmy B. pumps his little hobbit legs as fast as he can. All we see is his neon green folding chair backpack bobbing up and down across the field. At one point, you can he hesitates; apparently, the Winery has a new system for letting in people, which throws Jimbo Baggins' plan out the window. Moments later, he has formulated a new plan and is back to humping (I'm using Vietnam vocabulary now) his chair across the green. He stakes his claim with a blanket or two and gives the stink eye to anyone who challenges him on his turf. We're in.

And then the feasting. Wine, cheese, crackers, wine, shrimp salad, wine, crab cakes, champagne, and cookies. Then more wine. We trade food with Ash & co. (actually, it's not really "we," just Jimbo and Ash, yeah, it gets a little bromantic for a while). Ash fulfills his promise and buys a sick bottle of wine for us. Cheers!

Wait! What are we doing? We've got tickets for Tears for Fears! Yeah! In the middle of bottle #4, TFF hits the stage. Maybe it was the fairly decent sound system; maybe it was the two and half decades of writing hit songs; maybe it was the five bottles of wine, but TFF was f'ing amazing. Best band, ever. The crowd thought so, too, because they got their shit in the air everytime a jam was played. White people were dancingn like you've never seen. Ash did hip hop arms back and forth the whole show while drunk diling everyone he knew (he then alternated between singing into the phone and raising it in the air to let his annoyed friends listen on the other end of the line). My parents watched everything he did; I think my they had a huge crush on him, and to be perfectly honest, how could you not after a few bottles of wine? Dude was hilarious!

TFF looked good. They've aged well considering how ugly they were
as kids (see right). Most importantly, though, they sounded the exact
same! Roland Orzobal's voice sounded exactly like it does on the record. So good. They played all the hits: Everybody Wants to Rule the World, Woman in Chains, Sowing the Seeds of Love, Break it Down, Head Over Heels, and Shout (do you want an encore, do you want more? yes plz!). Whoever Ash called during "Shout" really got quite the call, because he got midly aggressive during that song. Who doesn't, though?


So now that I've shouted and let it all out, here are the things I can do without:
1. Concerts anywhere besides Chateau St. Michelle.
2. Alcohol-free shows.
3. Shows were you can't eat crab cakes.

Come on! I'm talking to you. Come on!

Listen:
Break It Down Again
Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Head Over Heels



*Yeah, I know, he said "sick" to mean "awesome." He was kinda douchey, but he was Canadian (Vancouver), so we let it slide.

Agenticity

Like most young boys (and some nerdy girls), I spent a lot of time wondering about the great mysteries of our time: aliens, sasquatch, and the bermuda triangle. I read as many books from the library as I could get my grubby little hands on, watched episodes of Unsolved Mysteries once the opening scenes were finished (too scary), and rented as many VHS tapes as I could from S&S Videoworks down the street.

As I reflect back on it, I seem to remember a lot more mainstream media coverage on those topics, as well as specials on the end of the world, biblical prophesy, and the dead sea scrolls (the last three being interrelated as far as the one-hour specials on Fox were concerned). Perhaps it was a symptom of postmodernism: the fall of the great political super powers to capitolism, the shallow light of day after the plastic, neon night of materialism that was the 1980s, and so on. We were a culture looking for answers and/or some kind of salvation, whether it was through the end times or the arrival of the ineffable powers that be.


I grew up, though, and the idea of sasquatch and aliens, however pleasurable to my simple, suburban world, seemed implausible to the rational, adult world I was becoming a part of. Every once in a while, I picked up a book or an article on the great mysteries of my childhood, and although some authors make a good argument for the supernatural (Daniel Pinchbeck's research on aliens and crop circles in 2012 are intriguing), I found myself erring on the Dana Scully side of the X-Files. I want to believe, but I just can't.


Scientific American recently published a short essay by Michael Shermer that coincides with my venture into Scully-levels of skepticism. The theory is based on another theory by the author:

“Patternicity:” the human tendency to find meaningful patterns in meaningless noise.

In it, he explains that, as a result of this tendency, we project larger meanings onto these patterns.

“Agent­icity”: the tendency to believe that the world is controlled by invisible intentional agents. We believe that these intentional agents control the world, sometimes invisibly from the top down (as opposed to bottom-up causal randomness).

In other words, if these patterns do exist (empirically or not, it doesn't seem to matter), humans will find a pattern in the chaos of the universe. If there is a pattern, it has to have been created by some intelligent being(s), and if we are only now perceiving it, it must have been there prior to our existence or ability to perceive it in terms of technology. Considering this, the being(s) must be beyond us in intellect and power, thus he/she/it/they must be controlling us.

I don't know if I buy it, necessarily, but it does seem to account for a lot of those terrible one-hour specials about Nostradamus and the dead sea scrolls, not to mention The DaVinci Code. In the end, it's another theory that seems to outweigh the irrational accounts and theories of the believers of the world.

Like I said...


But I just can't.

Abandoned: LIfe As We Knew It

When the world comes to an abrupt and catastrophic end, which it likely will, and does, in Life As We Knew It, things necessarily get pushed by the wayside. Jobs, school, and figure skating just aren't as important as ensuring the survival of yourself and your family in a post-apocalyptic world. Unfortunately, the everyday problems of teenage girls remain. Friends, boys, and body image still rule in the land of sweet sixteen, even after the moon has been pushed out of its orbit (the meteor was denser than anticipated), causing tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, and climate change. True, mosquitoes are now carrying the West Nile virus, but Dan is so cute (and he notices me now when he didn't before) that I'm going to risk going outside and go swimming.

Well I'm not risking finishing the book.

ABANDONED in Twilight land.