yorksherspitz-blog

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For all those in need of a little encouragement...

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Limitless: A Film In Review

Have you seen Limitless?

It's the story of a man played by Bradley Cooper. He's spending his life in a room with a computer trying to write a book. Then, while stumbling home from a bar, he runs into his ex-brother-in-law, and asks him:

"Are you still dealing?"

Given Bradley's choice of questioning, this is probably not an ex-brother-in-law worth consorting with. "But he might still be dealing," thinks Bradley Cooper lustfully. And the ex-brother-in-law is still dealing. He's dealing the drug everyone wishes they were doing when they are doing drugs. It harnesses power akin to a dog whistle for the entire human race. It's the ability to stop time in order to scan your brain for imprints of even the most minuscule pieces of information, categorize that information into simple equations, and then solve for x... where x is ANYTHING.

So. Suddenly, the man played by Bradley Cooper is able to make instantaneous, brilliant connections in his every day life. He starts to become the "perfect" version of himself, reacting in all of the ways necessary unlock the game of life. He is doing what he dreamed of doing when he first moved to New York City ten years ago. The whirlwind begins, and he is transformed into (gasp) Bradley Cooper from the movies! He has sex with his landlord's wife, and then secures a publishing deal for his masterpiece novel, and then schmoozes his way into a party, and then gives expert investment advice to Wall Street power players, and then he starts making business deals with Robert DeNiro, but then... oh no! he has to do this every day? How boring and unsustainable! This is a New Yorker's worst nightmare.

But even more so... it is physically unsustainable to react so quickly. Bradley Cooper from the movies has no way to restrain himself. There is no premeditation; it's all the drug, pushing him forward faster than he can comprehend. 

In college, I took some of my roommate's ADHD medication one night. I did, like, five things more than I would have done otherwise. But what if that productive binge continued? Without limit? In a word, it was (gasp) limitless?!

Click here to read the full, or more full, story.

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Commercialision

Roku has revolutionized the way I sit on the couch.

Prior to Roku, I had been quite the fan of Youtube. I thought that Youtube had revolutionized the way I did nothing. It was great. "Youtube has everything I want. Immediately," I thought to myself. "Nothing I don't want. I HATE shit that I don't want." Unfortunately, I didn't want to also have to click buttons CONSTANTLY.

Then, after Youtube, I believed that On Demand had the ability to revolutionize my ass. More accurately, I mean the slab of skin that covers my lower back, not my ass. I sit like this with my ass scooted forward from the back of the couch, in a painful curvature. Imagine my shins are the handle to a pudgy sickle. However, my opinion of On Demand changed when I learned that watching 90% of what was available was like having flat beer being poured all over my brain. SERIOUSLY. Not to mention, 75% of anything worth watching had to be paid for.

You see, I can't watch regular television anymore because I CAN'T deal with commercials. They just keep coming and coming. Right AT you. There is no avoiding them. I used to choose particular shows to watch because it was like having a conversation with someone whose company I actually enjoyed. It was batter than a real conversation because I didn't have to talk and I constantly agreed with what they had to say. But commercials... Imagine trying to have a conversation with one person who is really interesting and unique and fun, and then, like, every seven or eight minutes, an IDIOT interrupts you and starts babbling rapidly about credit card defense or some SHIT, followed by six or seven more IDIOTS talking about NOTHING that you want to hear.

This constant interruption, I'm quite sure, is fundamentally altering the physical construction of my brain.

I'm hoping that Roku will be different. It has to be. It offers, like, all these really neat shows that I'd like to be friends with. Like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2cWDCBS6Sw&feature=related

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Surprises

There are precious few moments in life when one truly feels alive.

Vibrant occasions are fleeting. They cut through the monotony of the every day, and make us less the every man. To forget them is to lose the taste, and the scent, of a world beyond our own expectations.

And so, these memories become our greatest desires. We might even ingest poison to find them. What's sad is not that we poison ourselves, but that we may only have the feeling once. Even the priest is well aware that no drug is quite as potent the second time around; it becomes procedure much too quickly for our liking. 

How quickly the present becomes the past! It just did. Like that. Like that. We are not pushed forward in increments, but carried along by the parade without our knowing. Slowly and surely we are flattened out by the great equalizer, the rolling pin of time.

For some, these monoliths recede in our rear view mirror. Do not relent; draw strength from them. If we do so, we might keep our shape a little better when the dark matter comes to smush us. We are reborn by these memories. Nay; we take them with us, and are made more whole.

This is what I thought to myself after I shat my pants on the long drive home. I cranked up my window, and pondered-- and became stronger. It will not happen again, I thought. And so, never forget!

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Record collectors are among us once again, as we all know, and spreading their tentacles.

They are not, of course, the record collectors your parents' knew. This is a different strain; one that absorbs massive quantities of old vinyl from dollar bins and your great uncle's storage unit.

After assimilation of these records into the home, they are categorized into waste, fodder, one-time usage items, multi-usage items, and precious gems. This reorganization, based on utilitarian concepts, aesthetic attraction, and genuine spiritual connection, will most often occur in a dusty attic, a darkened corner, or a sparse bedroom, where chances of being interrupted are minimal.

Then the ritual of play begins: careful extraction, painstaking placement, and finally, a descent into a state of meditation on all things past. The rumination takes place in the forests of the subconscious, a train passing through fields of childhood memories and forgotten dreams.

Here, we find two diametrically opposed facets of modern civilization: the spread of consumption like disease, and the exhaustive search for transcendence. And as a result, we have stacks and stacks of records that we hope will one day be worth more than we paid. There are also the vinyl connoisseurs, who maintain (and correctly so) that vinyl sounds better, especially with the proper audio system to accompany the player. During your search, here are three easy gems that truly prepare you for the ritual. Nothing truly captures the cool-colored electricity that seems to wash over you when listening to vinyl like these:

Three Ragas by Ravi Shankar. 

Key track: "Raga 'Ahir - Bhairav'"

How to listen: In a bathrobe with a cup of Darjeeling tea, looking out your window to a cloudy morning shrouded in mist

Then Play On by Fleetwood Mac

Key track: "Closing My Eyes"

How to listen: Three hours after midnight, with only a lamp to light the room and a glass of scotch to warm you.

Nashville Skyline by Bob Dylan

Key track: "Tell Me That It Isn't True"

How to listen: After you've met your ex-girlfriend for coffee on a cloudy saturday

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Futility

Tumblr seems like a cool place... pretty neat place. Pretty neat.

An essentially disturbed piece of advice is to just start a blog and then see what happens. The unfortunate side effect of this is the inevitable diffusion of information into the great digital void, where it will bump into other pieces of information on the way to the DMV or the grocery store or the bank but never really connect until they impregnate Keruoacian internet vagabonds with so much information that the only appropriate response to their blah is meh. This is abundance in its most destructive nature; the death of profundity.

No one will read this. And even if they do read it, they won't read it. 

So what will you take from this blog, besides nothing? Nothing. But I will find something extraordinary in its futility. Futility is an under-appreciated concept. It suggests limitless possibilities to fail, which I find quite comforting. There is nothing worse than being boxed into a corner with success.

And so, my first post: futility. There is nothing so vastly rewarding as you.