Book Review: The Magus by John Fowles

This summer, I was perusing the bookshelf at the cottage and pulled down a copy of John Fowles’ The Magus. The title didn’t particularly appeal to me, but it was a book I’d seen move from bookshelf to bookshelf around my house for most of my life, and I was curious enough to read the back at the very least. My random selection was destined, as I soon found out that I was named for one of the book’s main characters. How could I have turned it down after that? This book changed everything.

Well, even if my name hadn’t popped off the page and into my pregnant mother’s brain, I’m glad I got to read such an incredible, complex and intense work of fiction. If you want to see what REAL literature is all about, get a hold of this.
It’ll keep you busy. And if you want to see what a REAL quarter-life crisis is like, this will put things in perspective!

The Magus tells the post-war story of Nicholas Urfe, a fairly cocky, commitmentphobe-ahead-of-his-time Brit, who’s feeling lost and lazy as a recent graduate in London. He is well-read and well-educated but can’t seem to find work – or he can’t seem to commit to anything resembling a settled life. When he accepts a teaching position in Greece, I felt relieved because his life was pretty dull to me, too. He’d met a modern girl, Alison, who might have been the only one willing to love him for who he was, so naturally Nicholas confirmed his travel plans and they went their separate ways. I was interested in the book at this point, but not in an unnatural way. But speaking of unnatural…(cue mysterious music, preferably via theremin.)

I won’t reveal too much of the plot, but I’ll tell you that Nicholas gets himself involved with a Ben-Kingsley-as-Ghandi-looking guy who is pointed out to him from afar as a millionaire who was questionably involved with the Nazis during the occupation in Greece. Incredibly bored and curious, Nick enters the man’s property and winds up becoming a regular guest at his summer house. We learn that the generous host, Conchis, is and isn’t who he seems to be, triggering an incredible dichotomy of confusion and obsession in Nick. When Conchis reveals that he is hosting another guest – one who is possibly deceased – Nick begins to question Conchis’ intentions, but his insatiable curiosity embroils him in a major, life-changing summer, to put it lightly.

The Magus is an artistic, dense and bewildering novel. I’ve got no idea how Fowles could have come up with such a plot, but it is incredibly unique and for that I remain a humble admirer of the author’s abilities. He manages to confront the psychology of life and death, theatre, classic literature, the distortions of a young man’s perspective, and of course blonde, twin actress/temptresses who may or may not be dead. And this doesn’t even scratch the surface.

If I had to complain, I would say that Fowles knows he is writing a story above and beyond any reader who isn’t privy to the inner workings of his brain. If I couldn’t read in French, I would have found a few untranslated passages fairly frustrating, though the reader is often so churned up inside the story herself that missing a detail here and there wouldn’t really make a difference. I was left surprised, satisfied, confused, curious, and amazed. And you will be too.

The Magus falls under the rare category of books that really become a part of your life. Like Wally Lamb’s “I Know This Much is True,” or anything by Anne-Marie MacDonald, there were times when I could not stop reading. Literally. And there were times when I had better things to do but remained in bed all morning reading and reading and reading. Like Nick, I needed to get to the end of the story because once I was involved, there was no backing out. The strange, wary love I have for this book is one of inconvenience – the inconvenience of reading a tome that was impossible to remove myself from at times, that had me completely, entirely mind-boggled. And in many ways it still has me. Sometimes that’s the only way to tell that you’ve had a real, unforgettable experience, and if you’re up for it, I recommend this literary trip.

Less is More in the ¼ Life

That’s what I keep hearing…

No Innuendos Please.

Let’s face it. You are getting less bang for your buck. And your needs
were as ever great as any poor widow on Tottem Court Road off of
Piccadilly Square. (Wait. That is Elisa Doolittle from My Fair Lady)

Where are my notes? Here they are.

QLs. We have appetites for food, health, wealth, X-treme everything, our
parent’s salaries and pensions, health benefits, sex, Pottery Barn
lifestyles and to pull off that local community college center class on
red wine appreciation…has to offer.

But, it ain’t gonna happen. First time since the fall of Rome me says.
Where the current generation’s grandparent’s look forward and know they
had it better then their own grand and g-grand kids will. We are gonna get
less of the pie than those before us. Portion control my ass! Again,
despite my previous articles…no sexual innuendos. Please. I am slightly,
ever so trying to be serious.

Less if more.

But hey…they say less clutter the better. So Quarter Lifers. Let us cram
what we don’t need in the recycle bin, and demand more from the latest CDC
statistics that our parents life expectancy rate of 78.5 years will be
only 76.4 years for us…

Huh?

Really?

Are you sure? Yes? Okay…Well, that is not good news.

Hmmmm?

…But the ARE OUR YEARS DAMMIT!

Less is More!

Less salary is less of a purse which is less leather or less of a
faux-pleather Gucci bag you have full of other crap you do not need. Plus
I so hear those bags were made in a sex-slave trade factory in Calcutta,
where AIDS was born. Down with slave wages and Ceylon!…or is it disease?!
Well, anyway. Just carry your ID, a Franklin dollar bill, your health
benefits card when you go out clubbing. Those giganto bags the
Kardissshhhh sisters wear are how they smuggle in their own sweat shop
workers.

Less of a carbon footprint is less of a guilt trip about just drinking out
of a water bottle given to you at some 5K walk-a-thon you did for a
friend, on a bet, for a way “out of fashion” wrist bracelet for a cause
that has received billions, but United Way got most the funds. I am
looking at you Lance and Mrs. K.

Less is more in the Quarter Life when it comes to calories. Not because
you are cutting back, but because a 10 oz. Lean Cuisine is now 9.4 oz and
jacked up another 30 cents. Blame out-sourcing…not like we needed to eat
that crap anyway.

Less love is less life…like so many disposable things in this life,
divorce is up, marriage is down, we argue about what it means to be
married while forgetting we need to love more and hate less. Can I get an
ahhhhhhhhhh from the ladies in the house. No…not you Cecil. You are not a
lady…and though flattered, I am straight.
Less exercise is still more pounds, but hell…it will soon be a deduction
on your Hover-Round or 1040 EZ tax form. And QL dudes. I just remembered I
don’t have to sign up for Selective Service anymore. It stops at 29. What?
You never did? Do you know what I am even talking about? The Draft dude.
Seriously? Well, it does not matter…you are fat and so the “less exercise
less combat” thing applies. America’s next generation of cyber warriors
and it seems gay people are dying to get and stay in the Armed Forces.
Never you mind…just sit back, lick your Chet stained fingers and dream of
Madden ‘11.

Less is more. That’s what the Dems, GOP, Tea-Party types…well anyone in
political office is telling me. Napoleon once said the best way to start a
revolution was to first start with killing all the lawyers. Course he
ended up conquering a continent, ushering in a new era, but was exiled to
a island rock in the South Atlantic without a trial by law. And I bet the
same will be said of the X-Y Gens. Just less poetically so and with more
texting verbiage. 8-DOO( – Viv la Revolution…
(Classic joke insert: What do you call 10,000 dead lawyers on the bottom
of the ocean? A GOOD START!)

Less…really Les (or Leslie) was the name of a chick buddy I had back
during my sophomore year in college. Yea. It sounded like dude’s name, but
back then I could actually meet her and not worry about some fat, cat
fetish, Hep-C card carrying pedo bear fooling me over the internet. I met
her at the student center…get this f-ing fact…FACE to FACE, like a human.
But, again Les, then became a real Leslie…like she got a “package” of her
own Leslie. I like to figure I drove her, him, it…whatever to such a
decision. Who wouldn’t want to be more like me and less of a man?

Where is Daniel Tosh when I need him? Course I could not stop from kidding
her incessantly about her name. Les, lez, lezbo, Lesbo…and so on…oh…good
times. I think Les walked on a house loan when the Vegas housing market
plummeted and now works the strip. Huh?

Less again…less hate, but more tolerance for a gentle joke would be best
for any and all groups who have a current law suit against me for having
an opinion. I am aware restraining orders are a real hassle for everyone.
The guy in the Burger King costume notwithstanding.

Less is the new more. That’s what I am rolling out for the Obama campaign
in 2012. Let me try this…old Jedi mind trick. “You will believe less is
more. These are not the droids or way of life you were looking for. Your
college loans are not controlled by the Feds. And you like the new Droid
phone.”

Did you see it? Did you catch the double droid? In the biz…that’s what we
call good writing.

Less is more. Less is more. Less is more.

It is gonna have to be. Because I am done for the night. Time for me to
hit Sonic for my Route 44 Lime-Aid, well deserved Cartoon Network Adult
Swim and an Ambien. Good night.

Halloween versus Porn…Who ya got?

What is a ghost’s favorite pet or snack food?

…a Halloweenie.

In honor of the reason for the season I thought to put together a ¼ life
perspective on my favorite time and holiday of the year.

The childish nature of the above joke and the reference to hot dogs,
dachshunds, snack time and weenies will all become very apparent…so stay
with me on this.

Oh, nothing like sweet childhood memories of tricks and treats on a cool
autumn evening. As the sun went down, the wind gently swept a gathering of
fall leaves around my aluminum foil covered box robot costume. Jack ‘o
lanterns and their hues of glowing orange lit my way from house to house.

Then over the next decade or two…maybe I just gave up toilet papering old
man Johnson’s house last year…but imperceptibly Halloween lost all of its
sweet innocence of dress up, pop corn balls, bobbing for apples feel.

So I ask. What the freaking hell? I have been to sinful play at Mardi
Gras, in Rio, Chelsea Clinton’s bachelorette party and when the LSD and
non disclosure agreements wear off I can tell you about my tour in Iraq.
But, Halloween has turned into the Sodom of the holidays. Skimpy costumes,
made to gothic up those coeds and that one girl who had four changes of
outfits, FOUR, count them four different Disney princesses…oh and the
hussy with the over 18 adult Hermione Hogwart’s school skirt…hmmhmmm.

Shameful. Shameful.

And the most angry part about this travesty of lost childhoods, I have
already graduated from college!
It practically begs for me to put some sort of tag line about a witch,
black Sabbath and a ride on a broom stick here.

Oh, Great Pumpkin! Why do you tempt me so with things that my Quarter Life
has passed me by? As Sally said in the above mentioned, beloved cartoon
Peanuts TV special, “Where is my time? Where are my treats? I demand
restitution!”

The following demands I make on the holiday, Wicca, Hallmark and society
in general for ruining my holiday and/or to make up that I cannot have as
much fun as the kids today are.

1. One invitation to the Playboy Mansion’s Halloween Ball. Just ONE
invitation please. What? Someone has to stay and hand out candy…might as
well be the fiancé. Wink, wink…nudge, nudge…say no more.

2. No more pumpkin carving kits. When my QL ass was a kid, I had
newspaper, a pencil and a paring knife…and imagination.

3. No X-ray machines. There was like one incident back in 1974 and it is
wallowed in urban legend ever since. No one puts razor blades in candy. If
people in your neighborhood do, that’s because you live in a Federal
prison.

4. Laws that stop the purchase of toilet paper and eggs 48 hours before
Halloween should be repealed. And what if I had some QL GI track tummy
ache issues or needed to bake a wedding cake…huh? Huh? How else am I
supposed to follow the Food Network’s Ace of Cakes without eggs?

5. Two-day Halloween national holiday. The day of and the day after. And
while on the subject of holidays…throw in Monday after the Super Bowl. Oh,
and people who work at banks have to show up for their jobs. Stick it to
the MAN!

6. Bring back candy cigarettes. How else am I suppose to look cool?

7. All costumes must be homemade. Sheets, garbage bags, construction
paper, tape, etc. Except for the aforementioned college parties. Ladies?
Knock yourselves out. Boys? Break out the Jell-O shots. I’m bringing my
1999 party mix CD and we are tearing up the dorm.

8. Trick or treating must continue til after 10:00 PM. Man…you could not
pull me into the house with anything but a tazor. I had the streets all
worked out, plan of action, maps…these days, kids are all hustled away
into their homes to watch the I-Carly special before the sun goes down.

9. No Christmas crap in the stores til November 1. Let’s not mess with
extremes here people. Some hard line Kansas evangelicals don’t like mixing
the two, and personally I do not like to be pushed around by Target.

10. The Simpson’s Haunted Tree House of Horrors television special can
only be aired in October. I am tired of Fox pulling its BS of a first
weekend in November after the NFL game wrap up.

That’s my rant. That’s my list of demands. That’s my QL prayer to the
Great Pumpkin.

Operation Employment

by John Durfee

Though I now work in a great office at Airsplat, the nation’s largest retailer of Airsoft guns, it took a strategic search to find this position and I am often dismayed at the struggles of my friends who are on the hunt. Seeing their constant disdain, I reflected on the primary differences between my search and theirs and came to the realization that I instinctively approached the process using war tactics. I have a favorite book, The Art of War in which Sun Tzu said “If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt” and my strategy was relying on this concept. I know you are probably thinking that the employer is not the enemy and you are right – but unemployment is!

The reality is that if you face unemployment as an enemy to be vanquished, then employers are your allies and you must strategically create those alliances.

Recently, I called a couple friends together to give a more tangible explanation of this through an afternoon playing Airsoft. After several hours of shooting at one another, and with adrenaline running high, I presented my solution and suggested they approach their job search with the same uninhibited determination and simply “kill” unemployment. I have to say it was well received and my two closest friends have had more promising interviews in the last month than the three months previous. Here are a few lessons from the battlefield that can be applied to the job field.

Plan the Attack

Sun Tzu said, “The general who wins the battle makes many calculations in his temple before the battle is fought. The general who loses makes but few calculations beforehand.” You must be prepared, not only in the way you dress and act but in your knowledge of the company you’re applying to. If it’s a public company they should have earnings reports and information online. You should also have a good idea of the “camouflage” of that job. If it’s a construction job, you should look presentable but probably should not show up in suit and tie. You should show up in a crisp white button down, sleeves rolled, timberlands and blue jeans: clean but appropriate. By taking the time to understand the company and how you are most equipped, you can create an executable plan just as any general would before launching an attack.

Know the Battlefield

For my interview with Airsplat, I came clean shaven, wearing a button down shirt with a military style jacket. I also brought some of my custom made airsoft guns to show that I had extensive knowledge of the history and mechanical workings of airsoft guns as well as real guns from my military training. I basically showed the company it made sense to hire me. I was prepared and when I entered the “battlefield” I brought only the useful skills and equipment.

You could say my job is a perfect fit. I’ve been an avid airsoft player for the past 10 years, so when I was invited to interview with an airsoft company, it seemed meant to be. I’m not advocating trying to convince the employer that you’re ‘the chosen one,’ but you should articulate why you make sense for the position and what you provide in terms of skills and value.

Don’t wait for perfection

Some people struggle more than others in finding a job; often they have been offered jobs, but haven’t found exactly what they are looking for. Sun Tzu says, “There has never been a protracted war from which a country has benefited.” In airsoft that means you don’t wait for the target to come to you in order to create the perfect shot. You must be proactive and take action so that a shot will open up. In terms of employment this means not waiting until you find a position that satisfies all your requirements. Know yourself, know your limits, and if it’s acceptable, take the job and work hard at it, “Opportunities multiply as they are seized.” By taking an acceptable job instead of waiting for the ‘perfect job’, you are giving yourself more opportunities. You can still search for better jobs, while making money and leveraging your hard work to advance within that company. Action leads only to benefits.

I never thought airsoft could be a means to finding a job, but I think it reminded my friends that if they could find determination and confidence on an airsoft field, they can certainly muster the same measure in searching for employment. It’s also beneficial to take a break from the constant job search, because all the loose ends and failed leads can be disheartening.

John Durfee is a Gulf War veteran and the marketing manager for Airsplat, the nation’s largest retailer of Airsoft Guns including Spring Airsoft Rifles.

I Cut My Cable

No DVR. No wireless. No modem. No telephone. Nothing, nada, zilch, donut.

Got tired of 999 channels, $145 bucks a month and still nothing to watch.

I never used my home phone. I decided to just use that cyber dude’s
unguarded wireless in my apartment complex. I never watch the game in the
abode. And I never really needed so much digital high definition that I
can see the make up mistakes in old movies, the pulsating acne in Saved By
the Bell re runs and that Real Housewives of anywhere have more lines on
their skin then a subway map.

My new quarter life visual arts technology philosophy is, if I need to see
it, I will just Hulu or wait for it to be posted in bits and pieces on You
Tube.

Down side. I do have to paint my wall though. The plasma sort of gave a
poltergeist burnt hue to the place. I can only imagine what the radiation
did to my brain and my sperm count.

Think about it. No more shows about hospitals, cops, courtroom drama. No
more television about people who chat with ghosts. No more network
sanctioned human auctioning like Bachelorette or Who Wants a Date with
this washed up rapper. No more vampires. No more Jersey-ANYTHING.

And you know what? I feel good.

My ¼ life carbon footprint is smaller and so is the ass print on the couch.
My bar bill will go up, but I am getting out of the house more.
My monthly household expenses will be less, but I might make that up with
movie downloads.
My Weii has not been touched in months, I have a girlfriend…so nothing
changed there.

And MY opportunity at seeing the face of my college freshman cousin’s eyes
light up when I brought my 72-incher as a dorm warming present…was worth
all the hours of potato-ing I have ever done.

Quarter Life %$#!-it List

Get it? Bucket list?

Well, since even list making has become so blogger defined with the
bucket, I Hate, Top Ten, WTFs and Fails…I thought to make up my own
category.

This is not what I wanted to do before I “kicked the bucket” or moved on
from this quarter life list. Just a 7-Day thing. In order to work out of
my weekly quarter life crisis I decided on a fudge-it list. I might not
achieve it all, but it is really about the journey…right?

This week I will…

Get a washboard stomach? Again it is all about the try.

Pitch an idea to Bravo television where I open a restaurant that only
sells grilled cheese.

Get a Tosh.O Web Redemption.

Research, explore, discover and befriend Bigfoot. Shoot him, have him
stuffed, get front page in the National Enquirer and National
Geographic…and then hit the state fair circuit charging two bit’s a gander
to view the 8th wonder of the world!

Find peace with my ex’s credit score and identity theft.

Eat and exercise right. See my first list item.

Perfect the art of the cinnamon roll. Probably not going to help me on
number one either.

Crash a college party or tail-gater and be “that” guy at the keg. (I
graduated like a million years ago)

Do my Halloween shopping early. I want to be that crazy guy on the block
that always has the coolest haunted house in his garage. Course that will
probably land me on some law enforcement list.

Come to peace with a funny little man I like to call “me”

That’s it…all doable…all attainable…all mine. No matter the outcome, I am
able to say $%#-it! I tried!

“What did you do this week?”

Reflections on Restoring Honor

Normally, I find Glenn Beck to be just mildly annoying. He’s like a mosquito that buzzes in your ear – not biting, not landing – just perpetually floating without fail and creating an annoying hum in your ear. However, Beck’s resent actions are totally inexcusable. He is having a rally in order to restore honor to our nation. When I first heard of this idea, I thought, honestly, that it was a joke. A talking head from spin central is going to restore my nation’s honor? I’ll get Hugh Hefner right on restoring my modesty while we’re at it.

The first problem with this is obvious. My honor is not in need of restoration. Neither is that of my nation – not, at least, in the sense that Beck believes. He claims we are only as honorable as our virtues – a word he uses, dare I say, liberally – are in proper alignment. Acting more like a man at the pulpit than at the podium, Beck plays the sensitivities of his followers. He evokes humility when it looks best – calling up soldiers – both of the current conflict and wars past when convenient. My heart broke for them because not only had they served our country and lost, without doubt, something significant in each instance, but now they seemed to be losing something more. In the closing prayer, I man who had lost his face in Vietnam was paraded out after having the more grotesque details of his injuries retold by Beck. He told a story of loss in the name of defending freedom. He prayed to God that our troops be protected. The whole time he was standing there, Sarah Palin, failed governor and current talking head, was standing behind his left shoulder shaking her head in agreement. Beck stood to his right. He was bookmarked by two terrible people who spend day and night cooking up ways to brainwash the people into giving up their babies to warfare, giving up their shores to drilling, and giving up their dreams to inequality. I kept thinking, “This guy deserves better than this.” Though I’m a peaceful person, I don’t think there was anything wrong with this man’s honor – or that of the nation he served in the military – and I think it is pretty fucking smug of Beck to assume so. Using people is not bringing honor to them. If you really want to honor our veterans, Mr. Beck, help us get out of our military conflicts so no more of them have to become memories that never walk through the doors of their family homes again. Just today I saw a news snippet of a nineteen-year-old child who died in Iraq. The honorable thing to do would be to really learn from all these casualties we keep racking up and work to stop them. The only silver lining to this event is that the money raised – after Mr. Beck and his crew’s expenses – went to a very worthy charity, the Special Operations Warrior Foundation.

The second reason I’m coming down on Beck has to do with Mr. Beck’s own integrity. He’s a liar. He said – on national television – that the date of his rally wasn’t chosen for any particular reason other than it was the only free day in everyone’s schedules where the stars aligned. Bullshit.

I don’t really care that Beck chose to have his ‘Restoring Honor,’ rally on the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s, ‘I Have a Dream,’ speech. I don’t care that it was in the same location as Dr. King’s famous speech. I do care, however, that Beck claims that the logistics of this event are just coincidence – the result of open nooks and crannies within the bowels of conservative crony schedules and surprisingly open venues. There is no way – no way – that it just happened to be that the anniversary of the most remembered and cherished speech of the civil rights movement happened to be the same day when nothing much was going on in the spin factory and the Lincoln Memorial was free. What’s appalling isn’t that Beck thought to utter this lie in the first place – he’s a snake and that’s what snakes do – what’s appalling is that he said it on national television with a look on his face that said, “I know you’re going to believe me even though this is bullshit.” I mean, he should have just come out and said, “Yeah, I know this is an important day. I want to put my mark on it – whether it is a shine or a stain.” At least that would have carried the weight of honesty.

Beck tried his best to seem holy, but to me he just came off as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He evoked the word God more times, I believe, than the Rev. Dr. King in his famous speech. It seemed semi-sacrilegious to me – like using God to advertise Foldgers Coffee, or “The View,” or something like that. He made God seem like a patriot – on our side (America’s side) and our side alone.

The most terrifying thing about this event, though, wasn’t the man of the hour. It was the misguided nonsense he was spewing out into the atmosphere. It wasn’t the fact that the media was lapping up his nonsense. No, the most terrifying thing about this event could be found in the reflecting pool at the national mall. Beck’s followers, ready to take his message anywhere to anyone, gathered in staggering numbers. There stood apostles of a fake messiah, waving handmade signs and sporting Beck-inspired t-shirts. I didn’t feel honorable watching this unfold on television. All I felt was shame.

Take this job and… Quarterlife Work: Freelance vs Corporate

Do you like working in your underwear? Do you prefer a 401K and dental coverage? Quarterlifers have more opportunities than ever to find unique paths of employment. What are the pros and cons of each? Our diverse panel debates freelance and corporate avenues of work. Music by Industrial Jazz Group and David Kraut.

Dude! You Are Getting a Dell!

You might remember this catch phrase used by Dell Computers for its commercial ad campaigns during the early 2000’s. The actor was so popular he was fondly labeled the “Dell Kid“, got a spread in Tiger Beat and was being courted by Spielberg. Then he got caught smoking pot and his career went into the same. You would have thought the Austin police department would have been more forgiving. (See Matthew McConaughey, naked bongo, the Bush twins, public intoxication, George W. and DUI) But, whatever. This little article is more about the computing side of things than the various addictive attributes of today’s cultural icons (See President Obama, smoking, Michelle Obama and Illinois practicing law ethics disbarment).

I did, indeed, get a Dell this past week. Like all quarter lifers, I was pretty much raised and reared on electronic gizmos. Nintendo, Internet, Cell Phones, DVD, etc. Yet, 20-somethings take’ em for granted. The day my computer was to arrive, it was like Christmas. Because of the tracking software program at Dell, I even knew the hour when the little package was to arrive. When I heard the big diesel engine of the FedEx truck it was like Santa’s reindeers’ hooves on the rooftop. I ran outside, scribbled something like a signature and off I went inside with my new toy.

Boy how things have changed. The last computer I got came in three separate boxes, one for the uber monitor, the desk top and sundry things, and lastly the key board. The monitor box was big enough to make a fort out of. Which I did later on. Yes, this was just Christmas 2003 and some of us mature at different rates.

Well, my current wonder of technology came in one box, the size of a hefty attentive boyfriend’s gift of Valentine’s Day chocolates. Inside were three back up disks, the laptop and a power cord. I plugged it in, heard the musical charms of a computer booting up and five minutes later I was up on the Net with the capacity to surf porn so fast Superman would get a blister. I kid. Really I do. There is no way Superman could ever get a blister, he is the Man of Steel.

I took a moment to pause. Dude! You have it easy. All this tech stuff makes life so convenient, so complex at times, but a lot better no matter what. And Dude! You don’t even appreciate the changes that have occurred in your short life. It is almost too easy. Standing on the shoulders of giants and such. So in a zen moment of clarity, I put the new plaything away. I had been without a computer for a week and I thought I was going crazy. But, life went on. Maybe the same could be done with the cell, the texting, cable, etc.

And up ‘til this posting I turned them all off. A full week without any of the things that seemed to be so important. I actually like that I carried around a nice little leather notebook, pencil in hand and was not only able to survive, but enjoyed the tactile sense of writing, the lack of audio intrusions of cell phone beeps and the constant eye pollution from the television.

Sure, I am back up, reentering the world I cannot totally Robinson Crusoe away from. But, this time I refuse to reload into the Matrix. Dude! I got a Dell, but it and all of its electronic cronies will not own me.

I indeed did get a Dell this past week. Like all quarter lifers, I was pretty much raised and reared on electronic gizmos. Nintendo, Internet, Cell Phones, DVD, etc. Yet, 20-somethings take’em for granted. The day my computer was to arrive, it was like Christmas. Because of the tracking software program at Dell, I even knew the hour when the little package was to arrive. When I heard the big disiel engine of the FedEx truck it was like Santa’s reindeers’ hooves on the rooftop. I ran outside, scribbled something like a signature and off I went inside with my new toy.

Boy how things have changed. The last computer I got came in three separate boxes, one for the uber monitor, the desk top and sundry things & then lastly the key board. The monitor box was big enough to make a fort out of. Which I did later on. Yes, this was just Christmas 2003 and some of us mature at different rates.

Well, my current wonder of technology came in one box, the size of a hefty attentive boyfriend’s gift of Valentine’s Day chocolates. Inside were three back up disks, the laptop and a power cord. I plugged it in, heard the musical charms of a computer booting up and five minutes later I was up on the Net with the capacity to surf porn so fast Superman would get a blister. I kid. Really I do. There is no way Superman could ever get a blister, he is the Man of Steel.

Long story short. I took a moment to pause. Dude! You have it easy. All this tech stuff makes life so convenient, so complex at times, but a lot better no matter what. And Dude! You don’t even appreciate the changes that have occurred in your short life. It is almost too easy. Standing on the shoulders of giants and such. So in a zen moment of clarity, I put the new plaything away. I had been without a computer for a week and I thought I was going crazy. But, life went on. Maybe the same could be done with the cell, the texting, cable, etc.

And up til this posting I turned them all off. A full week without any of the things that seemed to be so important. I actually like that I carried around a nice little leather notebook, pencil in hand and was not only able to survive, but enjoyed the tactile sense of writing, the lack of audio intrusions of cell phone beeps and the constant eye pollution from the television.

Sure, I am back up, reentering the world I cannot totally Robinson Crusoe away from. But, this time I refuse to reload into the Matrix. Dude! I got a Dell, but it and all of its electronic cronies will not own me.

Happy Together: a Review of The Dollyrots’ A Little Messed Up

The first taste I got of A Little Messed Up was at a small, dank bar on the edge of historic Ybor City. It was a rare Floridian freeze – the temperature had dropped below forty and all the natives were looking for warmth in the form of companionship and whatever flowed on tap that night, me included. Though the space was dense with people, a chill still mingled through the air and filled the empty spaces between our coats, jeans, and bodies. That all changed when The Dollyrots hit the stage. They started with a cover of Melanie’s Brand New Key and kept favorites from their first two releases coming. At times, it felt more like a sing-a-long than a show, with the crowd joining in for every song.

There came a point, though, when bassist and lead Kelly (after heckling the crowd about how her youth soccer league kick their youth soccer leagues’ collective asses) announced they would be playing a few new songs from their album that they pinky swore would be coming out soon. I felt my cynical spirits lower – the party was over and the promotion was beginning. I couldn’t have been more wrong. They started off with Some Girls, a super-catchy number about romantic disinterest. Somewhere in the back of my cerebral space, that song was stuck – on loop – until their album’s recent release.

The rest of the record is just as addictive. Though this album definitely has a harder edge to it than their previous releases, it is without a doubt a pop album with a lean to punk rock. In fact, I’d venture to refer to it as bubble gum punk – bright, bubbly, and catchy as hell. You can tell it is a trio of people who enjoy playing music for the sake of playing together. It comes through in every note.

There’s nothing too technically impressive about A Little Messed Up, but the total package works well. The album is cohesive without being boring – each song has its own feel while being distinctly Dollyrots. Harder, rougher tracks like Bigmouth take you on a virtual time warp back to simpler, more direct time in girl-fronted rock – - think of The Breeders circa 1993. Kelly brings it with great licks on the bass, and Luis delivers completely on guitar. Don’t get too nostalgic, though, because pop-explosions like Om Nom Nom will throw you slamming into the present digital age and have you wondering if it is possible for lolcats to write lyrics. The album’s first single, California Beach Boy, isn’t that memorable, but it is a nice change-up to a summer filled with images of “California Gurl” Katy Perry ejaculating whipped cream on sandy shores.

The album has nice flow, too, with the sweetly sobering Rollercoaster gliding into the midst of the album without being a downer. It provides a good shift in tempo – allowing for some calm in the middle of the storm – without being a disruptive break from the party. It is calming without being disarming.

The album also includes two covers: The Turtles’ Happy Together and Bobby Darin’s Dream Lover. Covers are a strong suit of The Dollyrots, and these are no exception. This little couplet of songs that throw back to a simpler time is a perfect end to the album. These two songs put the listening experience to bed like a nice rock n’ roll lullaby.

All in all, The Dollyrots have a good time on this album, and I think it’s nice of them to bring us along for the ride. Turns out, A Little Messed Up is absolutely fine.

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