Music: Rogue Wave - California - Descended Like Vultures
Mood: Pessimistic
In the span of 10 minutes, my room went from a warm shade of orange to a murky pale grey tone that suggests the rain rumors will become a reality this weekend. I'm not particularly bothered by rain; I think it lends to different varieties of creativity, and, strangely, I tend to write better songs when the weather is poor. I don't know why this is so, but it just seems to be a trend in output. Who knows, perhaps I'll write a new song this weekend.
Everytime I watch a Spike Lee movie on HBO, I get nervous. That probably happens to a lot of white people, and I suppose that's sort of the idea. But my reason for getting nervous has nothing to do with the sociocultural ideals that Spike expresses, nor does it have anything to do with fear that a race riot is going to break out in my living room, nor is it any kind of artistic apprehension. My fear is that I know there's a 50 percent chance a particular situation is going to occur on the screen, and the situation is this: A black guy and a white guy are going to get into an argument over basketball, and the debate will focus on the fact that the black guy loves the Lakers and the white guy loves the Celtics. And this argument is going to be a metaphor for all of America, and its fundamental point will be that we're all unconsciously racist, because any white guy who thought Larry Bird was the messiah is latently denying that Jesus was black. The relative blackness and whiteness of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics (circa 1980-1989) is supposed to symbolize everything we ever needed to know about America's racial cold war, and everyone who takes sports seriously seems to concede that fact.
Mood: Pessimistic
In the span of 10 minutes, my room went from a warm shade of orange to a murky pale grey tone that suggests the rain rumors will become a reality this weekend. I'm not particularly bothered by rain; I think it lends to different varieties of creativity, and, strangely, I tend to write better songs when the weather is poor. I don't know why this is so, but it just seems to be a trend in output. Who knows, perhaps I'll write a new song this weekend.
Everytime I watch a Spike Lee movie on HBO, I get nervous. That probably happens to a lot of white people, and I suppose that's sort of the idea. But my reason for getting nervous has nothing to do with the sociocultural ideals that Spike expresses, nor does it have anything to do with fear that a race riot is going to break out in my living room, nor is it any kind of artistic apprehension. My fear is that I know there's a 50 percent chance a particular situation is going to occur on the screen, and the situation is this: A black guy and a white guy are going to get into an argument over basketball, and the debate will focus on the fact that the black guy loves the Lakers and the white guy loves the Celtics. And this argument is going to be a metaphor for all of America, and its fundamental point will be that we're all unconsciously racist, because any white guy who thought Larry Bird was the messiah is latently denying that Jesus was black. The relative blackness and whiteness of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics (circa 1980-1989) is supposed to symbolize everything we ever needed to know about America's racial cold war, and everyone who takes sports seriously seems to concede that fact.
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