Nerd Castle

In keeping with my previous post...

Comics shops, in my experience, tend to double as clubhouses. Guys who start comics shops like to be the King of Nerd Castle, and at my shop of choice there are dorky, awkward, genial kids who appear to be there whenever the doors are open.

The other week I was there and an attractive young woman was doing something I've seen several outgoing but insecure young women of my aquaintance do: pretend to be a slutty lesbian. She was doing this in a roomful of guys, talking in explicit terms about girls she'd like to have carnal relations with (gee, why do you suppose parents are often leery of taking small children to comics shops?). It finally dawned on me why some young women adopt this peculiar tactic. The selling point of public displays of sluttiness, from the "slut's" perspective, is that it gets you lots of attention from boys, which can be delightful. The downside is that it leaves the boys thinking they've got an open invitation into your pants. By fronting as a lesbian, the "slut" gets the boys' attention while making it clear that she's not available to them. It's sluttiness with a safety valve. Perhaps this is why, according to the news, girls kissing while boys watch is a trend among these whippersnappers nowadays. Based on my aquaintance with other women who adopted this approach, I'd suggest getting a less embarrassing schtick quick, because someday you might want to be respectable. I know I seem like a fuddy-duddy, but seriously.

Another ridiculous comic shop goofball: me. Once I was renting anime at that same store, and two guys were talking about anime. They were really swapping dense clouds of nerd trivia. I casually said to the clerk, out loud, in the hearing of these two guys: "I don't know how you can listen to this all day." And I instantly hated myself for saying it. How dare I chastise these guys for talking about anime in an anime store? I walked out of there feeling like an utter clod, and later vowed that if I ever saw them again I'd apologise and buy them a comic or something. But I haven't seen them since.

Who You Jawin' At?

I went to my comic shop the other day, and there was a guy thumbing through the long boxes of old comics, talking out loud to himself. Mostly he was reciting the titles of comics as he thumbed past them, occasionally commenting on whether he had a particular comic, occasionally bursting into snatches of song (that Beck song about being a loser seemed to be a favorite. A confession?). This wasn't a quiet mutter; this was gabbing out loud like he wanted to be heard. Yeah, a misfit in a comic store; who could have seen that coming?

And a few months ago I was at a bookstore, where I bumped into a clutch of old acquaintances. We started gabbing happily. There was a guy nearby, all by himself, looking at us. Then he went back to looking at books, and proceeded to talk loudly to himself, occasionally stealing glances at us.

I suspect that when you don't know how to talk to people, talking near them seems like a compromise worth trying.

Wordsworth I ain't.

I haven't been posting because

1. I have a lovely new e-pen pal and I'm spending all my text on her,

2. I'm still packing on fat even after the holidays, which means I have less energy for things like typing,

and 3. I'm just plain slack.

I'm flipping through a Norton Anthology, rediscovering poetry. It's one of those newly balanced anthologies with lots of unjustly overlooked non-male non-white writers. Lots of cool discoveries. I'll try to do a post on my reengagement with poetry when I can spare the time. If you haven't read any good poetry lately, I encourage you to pick some up. It's refreshing my take on life, which one needs from time to time.

The Lapis Lazuli Wishbone

The first Lapis Lazuli Wishbone award for excellence in being someone I know goes to my friends D and T (so identified because apparently some folks don't like to be named by name on blogs, so now I'm trying to avoid naming anybody just to play safe.) D and T are a married couple living in the Old Country of Chattanooga. They were my friends years before most of my current friends, and kept sending me cool Christmas presents even when I didn't send them any for a few years. One of those gifts, a cool framed japanese print from some antique book, decorates my desk at work and brightens my day every day. I dissed their latest gift here on the blog, a breach of good taste, and by way of apology the Aaron White (I can use my own name, surely) Office of Intangible Awardettes is pleased to award D & T the the first Lapis Lazuli Wishbone.

The Alabaster Hoopla

A few words about the Alabaster Hoopla: as David Mamet has pointed out (in Three Uses of the Knife if memory serves) the Employee of the Month award is not an award the Employer gives the employee; it is an award the Employer gives itself for being such a nice Employer.

And everyday, people presume that by, say, dissing Hitler, they are taking a brave moral stance. No. When The White Rose students
dissed Hitler, they were taking a brave moral stance. For us in this day and age, dissing Hitler is merely correct. We can no more claim moral cred for dissing Hitler than we can intellectual cred for stating that 2+2=4.

But this kind of lip-service morality is a proud tradition among the comfortable, and it is in that spirit that I offer the Alabaster Hoopla, a non-tangible award given to the morally courageous by the morally non-courageous (that'd be me.)

The first Alabaster Hoopla for excellence in demonstrating Moral Courage far in excess of me, Aaron White, goes to Montri Sinthawichai, who has worked hard to save children who have been victimized by the child sex slavery in Thailand. A more noble cause I cannot imagine. Every day he does more to justify his existence than I have in an entire lifetime. Thank you, Montri, for picking up the moral slack and helping damaged innocents! I don't, but I'm in favor of it. Tonight when I lay in my bed watching Arrested Development, I'll think of how you're putting your life on the line to save our fellow humans, and how I'm not.

Ack! Sin-chu-8 the positive

Just for the record, I consider myself an upbeat positive person, a fact which I fear the existence of The Platinum Douchebag Award may obscure. Why, some might ask, don't I have positive awards for people doing good? Since I spend more time being cheerful about the good in life than I do bemoaning the dark side of life, it's odd that I'm highlighting the negative. I'll give some thought to trumpeting the world's good-doers, but so many people I know are good-doers, and my reluctance to mention personal friends by name on the blog complicates matters. Lemmee stew on this and get back to you.

EDIT: The Alabaster Hoopla For Excellence has been created in order to provide accolades to persons whom I do not know personally but whom I wish to praise for doing good things. Also, the Lapis Lazuli Wishbone for persons whom I know and wish to give shouts out to. I'll give out the first ones soon... keep readin'!

Holidaze

Another groovy holiday season! Christmas with the family, which is the best thing about Christmas for me, out of many fine things about Christmas; most of the gifts I gave seem to have gone down well, and I got a slew of Eric Rohmer movies. Rohmer makes films that resonate with me, right down to bone marrow. They are as true as anything in film.

Our play, the Reindeer Monologues, went well overall despite a couple of frustrating nights. I believe it was Noel Coward who once said of a performance that it was a success, but the audience was a complete disaster. I'm less troubled by quiet audiences than most actors I know, since I was raised in a church of the frozen chosen, so I'm accustomed to quiet audiences/congregations, but glowering, unlaughing audiences are a bit demoralizing. I'm sorry, but if you didn't find anything to enjoy in our show, you should seriuosly consider the possibility that your life is a charred pit of misery and failure, and could use some reconstruction.

One of the actresses in our show was visited by her two sisters, who were delightful. Too bad they live far away... I keep meeting delightful women who are only visiting Alabama. Perhaps this is an indication that I need to leave the freakin' state, already.

We had a meeting to discuss the Politically Incorrect Cabaret, in which I'll be playing a part this time. I've enjoyed watching it in the past, and am pleased to be doing it! We're discussing the possibility of my playing Howard Dean and abusing the Democrats almost as cruelly as we do the Republicans. The cabaret members are divided between the "Democrats are perfect" camp and the "Tough love for democrats" camp of which I am a member, so it could be contentious. Still, at the moment there are many Republicans who are need of tough contempt, like the deceptively named Virgil Goode of Virginia, whose recent anti-Islam comments reveal that it isn't necessary to have the mental capacity of an adult human in order to be elected. In fact, I think it's time to initiate a new feature here at the blog, to be titled "The Platinum Douchebag," an award to be given on a semi-occasional basis to people whose mere existence proves that the human race ain't much. (Hey, anything to drive up the ratings.) Congratulations to Virgil Goode, recipient of the first Platinum Douchebag. Wear it with pride.

But hey, he'll get his at some point. Here's hoping we all get what we've got coming this year!