a few thoughts
This morning I saw a man smoking a cigarette while having a loud argument with someone who was not there. I always say that the angry schizophrenics aren’t the people you should be afraid of (they’re already mad at someone else), it’s the quiet people with shifty eyes you need to look out for. But this guy was different. If you’re smoking a cigarette, that means you have to have been lucid enough to buy a pack or bum one off somebody, which surely you can’t do while arguing with the voices in your head. This man was simultaneously existing in two worlds: the known and the unknown. Does this make him superhuman or just crazy-light? Either way, I wouldn’t mess with that dude.
Last night I went back to my acupuncturist for the first time in about a year. Back when I was having some un-diagnosable GI issues, Julia convinced me to try acupuncture. I begrudgingly gave in after making snide comments about not wanting to be forced to find my animal spirit or receive henna tattoos, but I was pleasantly surprised. There is nothing quite like lying alone in a low-lit room listening ambient, droning music, your body vibrating from head to toe (literally) from all the needles. It is a high like no other. At least until your acupuncturist comes in to burn some moxa over the pain in your side, and the two of you start talking about what’s wrong with the Yankees. Then it’s just really weird.
Every Thursday night I have my nonfiction writing workshop. The instructor is great, and I’ve learned a lot about the unique aspects of nonfiction writing (recollection, recreating dialogue, creating distance between who you were "then" and who you are now, etc.). The discussion is lively, critical, occasionally philosophical – all the things a good workshop should be. Immediately afterwards, I rush home to watch The Ultimate Fighter on Spike TV, and bounce up and down on the couch with excitement while two guys beat the crap out of each other for a shot at a six-figure UFC contract. I challenge anyone to present me with a better high-culture/low-culture evening.
posted by Justin at 10:58 AM
7 Comments:
i have a friend in vegas whose husband is an ex-ultimate fighter. everywhere they go, she's constantly telling dudes, "that my husband will kick your ass," which can sometimes be a problem for him. but most of the time, it's amazing how many guys will step off once they hear what he was, or how many women will step up. that's why i am now training.
You HAVE to tell me who it is. Email me if you don't want to post it.
I think you have me beat for one evening on a weekly basis, but for a one-time event this comes close. In the early 90s I went to a book reading by Martin Amis that was very intellectual in nature. It was in a great old bookstore before the chains ate NYC. From there I went straight to MSG to see Nine Inch Nails in concert. The Jim Rose Circus opened for them. As someone on stage lifted 30 pound weights with his testicles, I remember thinking back to a scant hour before when I was listening to a lively debate between Mr. Amis and someone else in the crowd about the current political scene.
That rocks, Ileen.
I guess it all depends on how you rate "low culture."
I kind of think NIN and Jim Rose are high culture in kind of the same breath that going to a Williamsburg art gallery opening on a Friday night could be construed either way.
So that's why you race home after every workshop! Your secret is out...I mean, it's safe with me.
This will, unfortunately, sound pretentious: I used to like to read Nabokov short stories while listening to hip hop mix tapes very loud. I don't think this qualifies for low-culture/high-culture contrast, because I'd argue that certain hip-hop transcends that distinction.
Okay, that did sound really pretentious.
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