2002-01-08 :: 12:01 a.m.

what to do

Soundtrack: Radiohead, The Bends; New Order, Crystal EP

I was always fond of Alexander Calder's mobiles. There was something marvelous about how everything held together, yet looked so precarious and fragile. "Bent Propeller" wasn't too far from the building on Wall Street that I spent so much time in this semester. (It got so the job search defined my life.)

And so I wonder what it is I ought to do. Which was the big question when I was out to a late lunch/early dinner (linner? dunch?) with Adam yesterday, one of the finest artists I know. Over microbrewed beer, a killer spinach and artichoke dip, and hickory grilled mahi mahi (served over corn polenta and topped with a pineapple salsa -- oh, but I'm getting a little too gastronomic), we had one of those conversations that I enjoy immensely when I'm engaging in them, and mock heartily when I'm listening in on them. At one point (and I'm not sure quite how we arrived there), Adam just bluntly asked me, "So what's worth doing?" Well. I'm not sure. I have a fair idea of what I want to do, ideally, but is that worth doing? I am less and less convinced of the scalability of meaningful things. I suppose that's what makes art interesting, in that it takes emotions and puts them in a non-zero sum game. If I suffer and then later I enjoy writing something about it that some other people enjoy reading, suddenly there has been more enjoyment than suffering in the world. The Eggersian electricity from dirt. That's probably worth doing.

Is asking if something is worth doing the same as asking if you will have regrets for doing it (or not doing it, as the case may be)? "Happy Memories" would seem to indicate the answer to that question is Yes. I don't know. Should [you] continue going through the motions in life so that when meaning comes [you] won't have messed up to (sic) much to enjoy it, or do you aim for meaning ASAP?

We talked some about Davis' assertion that staying up late eating candy in bed while reading, though entirely enjoyable, couldn't make a happy memory. Her general definition evolved over the course of the story and eventually required other people to form a happy memory, other people holding you in their happy memories. But both Adam and I have happy memories that no one else needs to remember. Still, all the examples we could think of tended to be a bit more extreme than late night candy-eating/reading, the little enjoyable things we do day-to-day that won't be much to us later in life.

Oh, I remember how we got on the subject of what is worth doing. I was ranting about the idle rich, I think. People like Lizzie Grubman, who waste the oxygen of the world. "What is it you don't like about them?" Adam asked.

I rambled for a while, but it boiled down to something along these lines: "I suppose part of it is a shallow envy for their wealth and flashy lifestyle. But I know I shouldn't really envy it...it has to do with the fact that they have the ability to do a lot, and they don't do anything besides look pretty and get photographed doing cool things. They have fun, but it's the fleeting, ephemeral kind of fun. Yet they seem happy not doing anything of real value." And that's when Adam asked what was really worth doing.

Another question of worth: Should an artist try to change what she comments on, or is mere commentary enough? It's generally been the path of the artist to get rich by sitting outside society, commenting on it from a higher place of insightful interpretation, and getting paid to do so in creative (and sometimes not-so-creative) ways. Critics came and tore it all down real good, but it still seems that most art remains a commentary, one that doesn't ask for change to occur. Adam said that as an artist he wants to see his work effect change, which appeals to my left-brained nature. It's that lovely line of egotism and insecurity. Everyone is watching me, I feel horrible about this, and yet I must have something important to say if everyone is watching me!

At one point we discussed the strange sensation of knowing an emotional truth but being unable to act upon it, leading to a disjoint relationship between thoughts and deeds. There was a very good Davis story about this in Almost No Memory, actually. Pastor Elaine, in "Pastor Elaine's Newsletter", is quoted by the narrator: "it is our human condition which brings us back again and again to doing things we would rather not be doing." The Pastor then cites Paul in Romans in her newsletter: "I do not understand what I do; for I don't do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate. What an unhappy man I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is taking me to death?" (I'm certainly not a Christian, but I liked that bit.) The narrator then admits: "We often do what we hate. We often tell ourselves what we would like to do, most importantly that we would like to be kind to our children, and gentle with them, and patient, and then we do not do what we would like to do, but what we hate; that is, we lose our patience suddenly and shout at them, or squeeze them, or shake them, or pound our fist on the table and frighten them. And we, too, do not understand why. Is it that we do not want to do what we so much believe we want to do?"

Lately I can feel a great deal of disconnect between what I know to be true (in disagreement with the last quoted sentence, I am fairly confident that I do want to do what I think I want to do) and what I actually do. I know I would be happier doing the things I know I ought to do, little annoying chores here and there, and this is very true of many things in life (eat your greens first, then dessert, etc.), but somehow I've always done the hedonistic stuff first, put off the work, and then burned through a late night to get the responsibilities done. "It seems we are able to will only from a very shallow place and when we draw upon all the will in us it is quickly used up and there is nothing left."

When we wrapped up, standing outside the restaurant with the overcast sky looming, I said that if I could, I'd like to write a book that's like The Bends: accessible, but with nuances that ask politely for (and reward) repeated listenings. To present a depth of feeling that entertains after work but enters the subconscious and stirs thoughts throughout the week, weekend, whatever, I think that would be worth doing. And yet the frustrating fact remains that being financially sound before trying that out is a necessity. It is all well and good and Oprah to say "Follow Your Dreams!", but at what cost? How many would-be movie stars told themselves those words over and over as they waited tables, experienced the casting couch a few times, and then burned out of Hollywood? The twenties are when you want to sock money away so that The Great Miracle of Compound Interest will work in your favor. (Or is that just an aforementioned "going through the motions"? However unpleasant, it seems a very real truth to me, no matter how I look at it.)

Some random jottings:

• On the registration screen for SparkNotes, I noticed that "United States" sat right on top of "Afghanistan" in the drop down Country box since it's (i.e., the USA) the most likely to be clicked, and the rest are in alphabetical order. That amused me.
• I really do need to go to Czech Republic. (Or whatever it is these days, my geography skills from 10^th grade are all but lost.)
• There are, according to my mom, no more original tenants on our old cul de sac. We've all moved or died. That's rather sad, in a mild, nostalgic kind of way. I wasn't really fond of too many of our neighbors, but I did like a few of them. And now it's a new generation of townhouse dwellers, I suppose.
• Adam has a friend at college that he looks up to as an artist and person. This guy locked himself in a room with some associates and a Saab for two weeks (they had rations). The goal was to disassemble the Saab, create musical instruments from the scrap, and write music for their new instruments. Then, when the two weeks were up, they went and marched around the city playing their songs. I would have liked to have seen that.
• Dave Grohl keeps a studio diary! The Foos will be on Letterman on the 10^th, so it's almost like I got my wish.
• In the spirit of being an honest thief: I took one of the links in this entry from Kathryn's weblog. Go there and read it all trying to figure out which one.