Movie Review: 'I'm Still Here'

This is a review of the movie "I'm Still Here" which is about the actor Joaquin Phoenix's departure from highly respected cinema to hip hop.  The reason I was immediately drawn to watch it was because I, like so many others, viewed the youtube video of Joaquin looking ugly, disheveled, and insane on David Letterman.  Prior to that appearance, I had no idea he was growing a gargantuan beard, dreadlocks, and a huge belly.  I don't follow actors closely, so I had no idea of the progression taking place between his last huge film, "Walk the Line", and Letterman.  To say the least, I was shocked and totally mesmerized.  I wondered if he was pulling an insanely cool publicity stunt, perhaps inspired by Andy Kaufman.  I was excited by the crazy move, the idea of combining art and life at the moment of making David Letterman nervous.  It all seemed fresh in the face of typical celebrity appearances.

After his appearance, online videos went viral and celebrity news programs and magazines had a field day.  Nobody knew what to believe.  "I'm Still Here" was a brilliant film documenting the actor Joaquin's disintegration as an artist.  The metaphor that structures this film is that of a waterdrop on top of a mountain, quickly descending off the mountain and into the swampy valleys, swept up in a river, no longer unique, flowing in a pool that laps up dirt and fallen branches along its way to a huge ocean, losing its identity and hoping for the good fortune that it might evaporate into the sky and one day land its place on the top of another mountain.  Joaquin's story is one of the descent, and it literally ends with his entire body being engulfed in water.  

Joaquin evokes pity throughout the story, but not as a victim.  The reason has nothing to do with his rash departure from acting.  Who can look down on him for that?  As an emotionally tortured artist, his departure could have echoed our own goals of one day leaving jobs we despise in order to pursue something more meaningful.  It could have been a brave and noble decision - heavily criticized by the public and mourned by the fans, but still respectable and noteworthy.  Instead, Joaquin's departure was irresponsible and egotistical, thereby parodying the egotism and sense of entitlement so many celebrities seem to have.  

Joaquin looks terribly unhealthy in the film.  He is fat and high, snorting substances, smoking weed, browsing pornography, and looking disheveled.  He has also surrounded himself with spineless friends who appear to stick around for fear of having to get a job or pursue their own projects.  His friends serve as his punching bags, and they never do the thing true friends must: to point out destructive tendencies in their friends when they see them.  They follow him around, telling him lies he'd like to hear, and wane on the brink of tears as he berates them in his mood swings.  They exist to provide encouragement to Joaquin, and should they break from their role, they would surely be kicked out.

Joaquin displays an amazing egoism and sense of entitlement throughout the film. While Joaquin lauds his decision to turn to hip hop as a brave decision most people never have the guts to make, he spends much of the film trying to track down Sean 'Puffy' Combs because he wanted him to produce his hip hop album (this after finding that Dr. Dre and Rick Rubin were too busy).  If his decision had been truly honorable, he would have pursued his hip hop career humbly, working tirelessly at his craft, collaborating with vocal coaches, performers, and independent producers.  He would have sought the advice of famed producers and rappers, but not partnerships.  In none of the shots with Sean Combs does Joaquin ask him for advice.  All he sought in his company was to set a date and record.  He seemed hurt and angry when he was told he wasn't ready yet for such a high profile producer.  This would not be the reaction of a humble performer, just a year into writing music, and this reduces Joaquin to a sorry state.  At no time does the viewer want Joaquin to get a record deal.  He does not evoke that kind of a reaction.

As I mentioned, the movie ends with Joaquin under water.  The story is bizarre and insane, and ultimately a documentation of the dissolution of a life.  Like witnessing the progression of a drug addict, Joaquin hits rock bottom, and he can either sink or swim.  In the end, it does not carry the message that we should not radically reevaluate our lives and take tremendous chances, but it does emphasize that we should do so responsibly, rationally, and humbly, or else we might drown in our own swamp.  It ends up parodying the maniacal egos and sense of entitlement associated with so many celebrities, people who have forgotten what it's like to work your way up in an industry.

In the end, it was an amazing hoax, which makes Joaquin, in my opinion, one of the freshest, most interesting, and most talented actors around.  Joaquin plays his part so flawlessly that he has everybody fooled, including David Letterman and Sean Combs.   The movie was so well orchestrated that it's speculated to have actually hurt Phoenix's career, though I doubt it.  Someone of his caliber can't remain out of the spotlight for long.  Joaquin deserves an award for his role and Casey Affleck deserves an award for directing it as well.  The cinematography, editing, and story flow is extremely well done.  The bravado displayed by Joaquin in the scenes where he berates his friends countered with the subtle nervousness and timidity he displays with Sean Combs is genius acting.  Until it was officially revealed as a hoax, everyone was fooled, or at least unsure.  I certainly was, right up until I saw this second interview with Letterman.  Bravo Joaquin!  Thank you for making cinema such an interesting art form. 

On Pilgrimage

(This will be part of a series - this post is generally about pilgrimage, its meaning, and its importance in my life.  Posts will follow reflecting on particular pilgrimages I've traveled.)

In 2002, my life was looking pretty bleak.  I would not consider myself suicidal, because I never seriously considered it, but I thought about death a lot and I was terribly depressed.  I hit a low shortly after the one project I believed in fell apart - my grunge rock band with political and self-critical/reflective leanings, Fuzzy Raisin.  That was, I suppose, the last straw for me.  After its dissolution, I found myself a college dropout working at Rite Aid with no girlfriend, owing a lot of debt (a result of my reckless spending on musical equipment), with no big plans for my life.  I was stuck.  I responded by doing what I'd been doing for years: I wrote songs.  Sad, depressing songs.  I spent hours holed away in my room recording those songs.  I experimented with sounds and created very weird musical landscapes.  I compare my work in those days to Radiohead's later albums, though, of course, I'm not as good as they are.  The resultant album was 'The Homeless Pilgrims - Sleeping in the Park', which perhaps 20 people have listened to.  Another reason to feel sad.

Fortunately, as I was dealing in my twisted mental arenas, a book was being published called "The Camino" by Shirley MacClaine.    Technically, this book was about her experience walking a very old Catholic pilgrimage.  Most of the book, however, was about her interacting with astral lovers and aliens as she occasionally took strolls on the old Catholic pilgrimage.  I would not read this book until well after it contributed toward radically changing my life.  This book was discovered by two angels in my life, Wendy and Jenny, in a phase of their lives when they were regularly hanging out in New Age book stores and feeling a very deep connection to some ineffable presence I had no idea about - something very, very large and nurturing.  They became very excited about the pilgrimage Shirley walked, as were New Agers from all over the world.  They thought a lot about packing some bags and going.  At the same time, we were hanging out a lot.

In a moment of inspiration, I planned a trip to Idyllwild, a gorgeous town in the middle of the San Bernardino Mountains, shadowed by 10,800 foot San Jacinto.  Jenny and Wendy came along, as well as my dear friend Josh.  Spending two days in the mountains and hiking the old Jacinto trail, Jenny and Wendy casually asked me if I'd be interested in traveling with them to the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  Without thinking about it much, I said yes.  Fortunately, they took me very seriously.  That casual agreement served as a commitment.

We had a year to plan, which meant buying equipment and saving enough money for plane tickets and the trip itself, as well as saving money to return with and to pay our bills while we were gone.  We decided 3 months would be suitable: 1 month to walk the pilgrimage, 2 to travel around Europe like hobos.  One thing was decided, we'd do this cheap.  The rest was up to fate.  As time passed on, and this happens I think to everyone who's ever considered doing something life-altering, our resolve weakened.  I second-guessed myself.  I considered giving it up.  It was too expensive, it was risky, it was irresponsible, it wouldn't solve my problems...  Similar ideas plagued Jenny and Wendy.  Fortunately, we were all too embarrassed to express doubts within the group, and one day we stormed into a student travel shop and, probably due more to mutual peer pressure than anything else, we bought plane tickets.  We bought plane tickets.  There was no turning back.  Any doubts in our minds were thrown aside, they became irrelevant - we now had a deadline.  We worked and saved and worked and saved and shopped at REI and worked and saved.  When the day came, we were ready.

This trip saved my life.  We flew to Paris, caught a train to Bordeaux, and a taxi to a tiny town called St Jean Pied de Port.  We arrived late at night, when everything was closed.  We walked like homeless vagrants, not sure where to sleep until we pitched sleeping bags on the side of the road.  I haven't desired a bed since.  My home is in the earth, in the beaten down soil trampled by centuries of wandering feet.

A pilgrimage can mean many things to many different people.  Traditionally, it's a path who's destination has a spiritual significance.  The Camino de Santiago, for instance, leads to the ashes of St. James.  It should be immediately clear why pilgrimage can take on a myriad of meanings: spiritual significance varies greatly between people.  For me, pilgrimage doesn't necessarily refer at all to a destination, but rather to a mode of travel whereby one is purposively self-reflective and has ample ground to connect with a world much greater than their own.  The travel can be physical, but not necessarily.  It can refer to a journey of the mind as well as of the feet.  I do consider it necessary that a pilgrimage has a destination and a 'road' to travel - a route.  But it's been my experience that the end is only significant insofar as it marks an accomplishment, whereby one can now stop, reflect on the journey, consider the lessons learned, and make plans to integrate those lessons into a more mundane life.  I've been on many pilgrimages.  My physical journeys have been The Camino de Santiago, the Transamerica Cross-Country Bicycle Tour, the Astoria to San Francisco Bicycle Tour, and the John Muir Trail.  My more abstract journeys have been my BA in Philosophy from Humboldt State, my MA in Philosophy from San Jose State, and the Peace Corps in Ecuador.  All have been vastly different, but have confirmed one thing in common: the world is beautiful and to be taken seriously.  I have not been depressed since.

Spaces

There are spaces each person inhabits 

That, in part, exude and, in part, induce. 

We become aware of the part stemming from us,

The part that induces remains largely concealed.

These spaces surround us like extemporaneous clouds.

At times they rage, their edges gathering thunder.

At times they blend idyll breeze with a light moisture.

We do not stand at the center of our space.

Rather, the space centers us,

And we collect at its periphery,

As do our friends.

In the spaces I provide, and in the spaces I encounter,

I can not be sure where I conclude and you begin.

For spaces are not definable like a floor plan or a building.

And yet we inhabit a space, and it stretches out before us

Again, like clouds in a sporadic sky.

Our spaces evolve in the minute details of time.

I feel thankful for the spaces that have infiltrated

My ever-morphing sky-scape,

For my life is filled with burning sun.

But never forget that not all were born in light,

Many spaces exude, rather, night.

And spaces, as stated, induce.

This is, of course, an uncomfortable truth.

A Meditation on My First Christmas Away From Home

This will be the first time since I was a measly cashier at Rite Aid that I'll be working on Christmas Day.  I used to do it often, and it was one of the busiest and most stressful workdays of the year.  Rite Aid was one of the only places open on Christmas, so people flooded to pick up pathetic last second gifts like Tylenol and Ibuprofen because they put off real shopping for too long.  They also picked up batteries for the new toys they bought their kids and candy that went half off at the turn of midnight.  It was always insanely busy, in part because so few of us worked it.  I always offered to work because I didn't have kids like my coworkers, and I felt like they shouldn't have to wait till five o'clock to celebrate with their families.  My family always thought I was nuts, but someone had to work the day - the corporate office insisted, and they were far more powerful than me, considering they paid my bills.

One Christmas I worked with an outspoken guy named Albert who was cashiering.  One of his customers said, "I feel so bad for you that you're working today."  Most people would respond, "Oh, it's alright- I'm making time and a half."  Albert just looked that customer square in the eyes and said, "No you don't.  You're in here shopping.  You're the reason I'm working today."  Since then, I've never shopped on a major holiday.  Corporate offices can work people all they like, but I want them to lose big for it.  I dream that some day it won't make fiscal sense.  Then we might come closer to the ideal that capitalism can be shut down for just one day out of the year to make space for something deeper - a celebration of community.  For this, consider buying gas for your car the day before, and at least afford the poor gas station clerk the courtesy of reading a magazine on the job while collecting (hopefully) time and a half and one of their biggest pay checks of the year.

This year I'll be working on the 25th of December at Netflix's call center, answering phones and trying to troubleshoot people's internet connection problems as they try to stream movies.  It will be the first Christmas I spend away from my family.  Last year was a close call.  I couldn't make it down until a couple days after Christmas, but we still shared the season together.  Several years before that was an even closer call, being that I was in the Peace Corps.  Fortunately, I was able to be with my family on Christmas.  Unfortunately, the reason for this was that I broke my jaw in two places just a month prior, and after an emergency surgery in Quito, Ecuador, I was shipped up north to the affluent USA to spend a depressed Christmas missing the strange life I'd been living down south.  Still, there really was no better place to be than home on Christmas Day.

This year I'll be up in Portland, Oregon, and there are no plans to travel south.  My family and I are planning a big skype event where we can talk to computer cameras and see pixels on the screen that coalesce to make images of the people we most love in the world.  Fortunately, I do not feel depressed about it.  I'm surprisingly fine with the idea of working on Christmas and spending an afternoon opening gifts in front of a computer monitor, trying to read the emotions on my parents' faces when they open the gifts I sent down to them, trying to make evident the emotions I feel when I open their generous gifts.  The reason I feel fine is because the 'Reason for the Season' is essentially a celebration of family and a setting aside of time and space to recognize the love we share.  Distance has nothing to do with that.  My future wife will share the day with me, our companion Kyoto will be wagging her tail beside us, and our families will be present not just on the computer monitors, but in the spirit of the day.  At some point, I expect our Skype experience will not be at all about pixels and electrical currents.  It will be a manifestation of something already understood: that we are in each other's living rooms, dramatically intertwined in each other's experiences.  This translates mentally in the memories we've authored as they're cherished in our communities; physically in the landscape itself: in, for instance, the blemishes we're responsible for in the furniture everyone shares; practically, in our influence on the way our loved ones understand the world; spiritually, in our ghosts that establish a presence in our absence.  I will be in two places on Christmas - in Portland and in Ramona.  And for all the beloved people I will not see this Saturday, I welcome you to Portland, because you will be here with me, and I really enjoy your company.  

How the People Took Music Back from the Record Companies

This is primarily a review of a very good book: "Ripped" by Greg Kot.  So, he and his crew did all the research, and I deserve no credit.  I just want to pass on the story, because it's an awesome story.

I come from a very strange musical background.  My first album was a very respectable one: The Beatles' Greatest Hits.  My Dad picked it out for me, as he was passionate about the Rolling Stones and The Beatles in his day, as just about everyone else was.  If he was passionate about music, it would have upset him deeply when I had no interest in the album.  But my Dad is very easy going, and he didn't mind, so long as I wasn't listening to anything controversial.  So he was happy to get me the album I really wanted, which was Alvin and the Chipmunks.  I listened to that tape so much that it wore out.

When I was a bit older, and ready to listen to "adult music", I stepped into a dark and dangerous path: contemporary adult pop music.  My first CD was Whitney Houston's "I'm Your Baby Tonight".  I played the hell out of it.  I also got into Michael Bolton, owning three of his albums.  My first concert was Paula Abdul with Color Me Badd opening.  I was also crazy about cheezy rap music.  While I should have been listening to Public Enemy and Dr. Dre, I was listening to MC Hammer (later just Hammer) and Young MC.  This all worked out well in my house, because my parents didn't mind me getting passionate about music, so long as that music sent decent messages.  Then I met my friend Justin.

Justin was a troublemaker.  He periodically got kicked out of school and talked to me about things like having sex.  He also introduced me to controversial music.  He gave me the Red Hot Chili Peppers' masterpiece, "Blood Sugar Sex Magic", one of the greatest albums of the 90s, in my opinion.  I remember sneaking it in my house and hiding under my covers when my parents thought I was asleep, listening to the album with headphones.  This was my introduction to rock and roll and all of its subversive spirit.  It was my gateway drug, and it later led to Nine Inch Nails, Sublime and Tool.  It led all the way to my songwriting and my first band, Fuzzy Raisin, whose first and second album did not follow the lead of Michael Bolton and Surface, but rather of Pearl Jam and U2, exploring my frustrations with God, my doubt, my anger about kids getting lost to drug abuse, conservative politics, and greed.  It was written, recorded, and performed at a tumultuous time when I was in and out of college, depressed, and craving something larger than what I was living.  It was heard by about 50 people, but that was ok.  It was authentic.

While Fuzzy Raisin was playing, a revolution was occurring in music.  Songs were becoming available for free on Napster, and kids were downloading those songs and passing them on to friends.  Music executives were getting pissed, and some bands too.  Metallica was taking Napster to court, and getting mad at their fans for downloading something they hadn't paid for.  So was Dr. Dre.  Meanwhile, fans weren't respecting their point of view.  They were tired of spending up to $20 for their CDs, and they were also tired of being force-fed what the record companies were dictating - not just in CD prices, but in the bands and the songs they were releasing.  Fans, at the risk of being sued themselves, kept downloading and passing free music along to their friends.

We all know what happened: the record companies lost.  They were never able to control peer to peer music file sharing.  Metallica looked like a bunch of asses, and Napster went out of business just as hundreds of other 'Napsters' were up and running.  In other words, Napster never went away.  While record executives wined and moaned and tried to reign in the system, their sales plummeted.  The point of Kot's book is: your business model must adapt to the times, otherwise you lose.

This was the dawn of the indie label!  To fill the void left by the pathetic big label companies, indie labels stepped in and used peer-to-peer file sharing to their advantage.  In the 90s, these indie labels couldn't survive.  They didn't have the money to get a song on the radio.  The radio was so screwed up, and so monopolized by Clear Channel, that exorbitant amounts of money was dropped to get a song on the radio.  A great example of this is the band, The Hives.  Their album "Veni Vidi Vicious" was an instant classic, but it couldn't get airplay when it was released on the indie label, Burning Heart, and it sold only moderate copies.  Two years later, it was licensed by Reprise Records and the song "Hate to Say I Told You So" made it to the top 10 of the modern-rock singles charts.  Why now?  Reprise funneled at least $100,000 into it, an amount the old label couldn't even dream of.  The album sold like crazy soon after.   The point is that listeners are given the songs with the most monetary backing, not necessarily the best songs.  And as Clinton signed into law the 1996 Telecommunications Act, which allowed Clear Channel to take over the radio airwaves and play its 'safe' playlists across the country, indie radio stations got squeezed out and with them, any chance of hearing new, controversial, stimulating music.  Subsequently, listeners tuned out and started searching the internet.

And with that, the second rising of the indie label!  There are a number of notable artists that likely would not have been heard by the mass public if not for peer-to-peer file sharing.  These include Death Cab For Cutie, Bright Eyes, OK Go, Arcade Fire, and Wilco - all of which are on my iTunes playlists.  These bands are talked about in Kot's book, but I think the same is true of brilliant artists Mumford and Sons, The Low Anthem, Band of Horses, Fleet Foxes, The Avett Brothers, Bon Iver, Langhorn Slim, Dan Bern, and Dr. Dog.  This is just to name a few.  These artists do not fit on the radio because their music takes time and attention.  Their music is more akin to the artwork displayed in the local coffee shop rather than the framed art you can buy at Bed Bath and Beyond.  The way you learn about them is through your friends, your contacts, music blogs, and at concerts.  Once you discover them and fall in love with them, you become a devoted fan.  And while you may not have paid for their first album, you pay to see them live and you pay for their second album.  And you rest assured that, because they are working through an indie label or on their own, your money is going to them.  While the big record industry are losing this battle, the artists are winning.  These small time acts are gaining a huge fan base and a huge email database which supports their touring with very little overhead cost, and it's enabling them to make a living off their craft.

Non-indie bands who have benefitted from the old system and have since broken ties with their labels, such as Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails, are making more money on their albums than they ever did with their labels, even as they are offered for free from their websites.  And in this new world, these formerly signed bands are coming out with #1 albums that have had literally no airplay.  Consider Radiohead's In Rainbows.  Who's heard a track from that album on the radio?  Has anyone heard "Jigsaw Falling Into Place"?  I haven't.    Still, it outSOLD their last release, "Hail to the Thief", even as it was offered as a FREE download from their website.  The point: this is an exciting time for music as there's less catering to radio playability, a ton of interest, and a lot of fan support - people are willing to pay money to keep artists going, you just have to give the fans the respect they deserve and give them a price where they don't feel like they're getting screwed.  Radiohead offered just that price: pay what you think it's worth.

For a deeper look at this fascinating story, check out Kot's book.  I couldn't put it down, and if you're a music lover and an avid reader, I doubt you'll be able to either.  As for my personal music projects, things haven't changed all that much from the Fuzzy Raisin days.  My style has changed.  My content has also changed (Anita has helped me branch out from such personal and introspective topics to more theatrical and story-telling themes).  Like Fuzzy Raisin, we still have a very limited fan base, consisting primarily of wonderful, supportive, loving friends and family.  One difference that excites me today is the possibility of reducing costs substantially and the possibility of reaching a wider audience.  For our 9-song debut, "Wander-Lost", we didn't have to manufacture CDs, which saved us a bundle.  We also have our music available for streaming and free download online.  While that has not led to fame, it has led to some random occurrences, including airplay on an indie Colorado radio station, and an iTunes sale in Sweden of all places.   It's also led to more people hearing the album than was possible when I was selling discs out of a car with Fuzzy Raisin to the 1-2 people that attended our latest Tuesday night show.

But one thing has remained true of the music industry - you won't be heard unless you play.  Having no tour and just playing in the San Jose area, we can't expect the kind of success bands like The Devil Makes Three have enjoyed.  Since moving to Portland, we've yet to hit the scene, aside from a random open mic.  We're hoping to get performing in the coming months, with plans of hitting open mics regularly over the coming days and hopefully recruiting a drummer and bass player soon.  The Mighty Have Fallen is an artistic project, not a business.  So while we haven't come close to making money on "Wander-Lost", there is no regret in recording it and there's nothing stopping us from recording the next one.  We've actually already begun work on it.  It will be called "Duets" and will consist of 3-6 songs.

Thanks to Ariana for sending me Kot's book, and thanks to all The Mighty Have Fallen's listeners for supporting local art.

Maynard James Keenan has a Movie!

Blood Into Wine

So, the lead singer of Tool, A Perfect Circle, and Puscifer is staring in a documentary called "Blood Into Wine".  I recommend you watch it.  It details Maynard's most engaging and personal project to date: the making of wine.  A novice winemaker, Maynard elicited Eric Glomski to start a vineyard in Arizona called Arizona Stronghold Vineyard, bottling under the title Caduceus Cellars.  I learned about this project a couple years back when they came to the Whole Foods in Cupertino, CA.  I eagerly hopped on my bike and rode to the grocery, bought the mandatory bottle of wine (Anita and I went cheap - we bought the Chupacabra), waited in line for a half hour thinking about meeting a man we've been obsessed with for years - a man I wouldn't recognize if he shook my hand because he stays so hidden from the public both in the media and on stage (in the back, wearing a wig, wearing a dress, painted in blue, etc.).  Everyone around us was wearing black and looked tough, and they all held their wine bottles in their hands and waited their turn.  The experience was anti-climatic.  Maynard and Eric were in a little room that had paper taped all over the windows so we couldn't see in.  When you walked through the door a man with latex gloves took your bottle and ushered you in.  Maynard was doing something strange with his hands - they floated over his head while he dreamily looked up, swaying a bit from side to side.  He was handed the bottle and, in his latex gloves, signed his initials.  He then passed it on to Eric and he signed it in his latex gloves.  It was then handed to another man in latex gloves who gave it to me as I turned my back on the rock icon and left the room, still not knowing what he looked like.  Anita and I saved that bottle for a long time.  She didn't really want to open it, but I finally convinced her.  I should have listened: it was not good wine.

But... this is a killer documentary and really inspiring for any artistically and creatively inclined person!  Maynard is breaking rules here - he appears to be more interested in getting his hands dirty and taking in breathtaking views of the Arizona highlands than he is in making records with Tool.  This is sad, but inspirational.  An artist has the license to continually recreate herself.  It's what's responsible for that initial creative outburst to begin with.  For Maynard, making wine is a new craft that he's passionately interested in.  It's not a replacement for music, but a creative process in itself.  He does not feel the need to defend it, and the documentary shows a man critical of the aura surrounding famous wine critics that can make or break a winery.  This is his vineyard, his product, his blends, and his recipes.  He invites critics to taste, and he's happy if they give a bottle a high mark, but he makes it known that his taste in wine is to be as respected as anyone's.  He cares that it's liked, and that involves many unique palettes - not just that of a snobby critic.  

Eric Glomski, an old Santa Cruz resident, is quite obviously the brains behind the operation, with years of experience farming and growing grapes.  He comes off knowledgeable enough, but he steals the show away from Maynard when he starts talking about the earth and ecology and a respectful environmental attitude.  While Maynard is inspirational enough, Eric is a sage.  He departs a lot of wisdom in the film, and it's always fitting to hear him preach his gospel in front of a river.  You need to see the documentary to hear Eric preach - he loves and cares for the earth, and he has some beautiful things to say about the complexity of grapes and the ecology of vineyards.

This movie was, for me, as an artist, inspirational.  Maynard, while reserved and camera-shy, is a great showman.  He is very mindful of how things are presented visually and he takes care in conveying his intentions in a meaningful way.  He's mindful of his audience, and he also takes care to create the product he envisioned.  That's what makes the albums he's involved in so incredible to listen to.  That's what makes his live performances memorable.  This movie is very thoughtfully presented.  It intentionally blends fact and fiction, so the viewer is left to decide what to believe.  If this wasn't obvious through the many skits and interviews laced throughout the show (one in which two interviewers berate a silent and brooding Maynard as they consider wine disgusting and satanic), it becomes abundantly clear at the end when Maynard states the obvious: "You have no idea after watching this video what my relationship is to wine and Caduceus Cellars.  This video was carefully edited and thoughtfully shot, and for all you know, you just witnessed my first steps on it, even as I acted as though I've put a lot of time, energy, and passion into it" (my quotes, not Maynard's).  Why is this inspirational to me?  Because it reaffirms a truth: we have the ability to thoughtfully engage ourselves in the world - we can play rock music and, in our forties, recenter ourselves in a world of winemaking.  But the important thing: ONLY WE CAN GAGE HOW AUTHENTIC THAT PRACTICE IS.  The presentation is just that - a show.  Only Maynard understands the depth of his passion just as only I understand the depths of my own passion.  Maynard's message is clear - however you judge him and his wine, he will pursue it to the extent that he wills, and no judgment from outside can alter that commitment.  The video leads us to believe Maynard is a serious winemaker, just as my academic credentials indicate I am a serious philosopher.  But only Maynard knows how serious he is, and only I know how serious I am.  Our actions, when nobody is watching, indicate that seriousness.  The overarching philosophical notion to be taken from this documentary is an existential one - CREATE YOUR LIFE.

Check out "Blood Into Wine," and never consider yourself cornered.  Our lives can take all sorts of shapes and forms, and lead us into very interesting places.

Thoughts on Latin American Philosophy and its Bearing on Current Political Realities

For a long time now I've been obsessed with Latin American culture, history, and philosophy.  I've read Che Guevara's complete biography, read accounts of Hugo Chavez's 'Bolivarian Revolution' in Venezuela, contributed to the translation of a text by Mexican philosopher Jorge Portilla, visited the art exhibit of Frida Kahlo in San Francisco, and volunteered in both Ecuador and Honduras with both Peace Corps and Habitat for Humanity.  This short essay explores a few aspects of 20th and 21st century Latin American Philosophy that particularly attract me.  I believe that philosophy has a profound affect on the political and cultural development of a people, and so there are wide implications in the ideas I explore here.

Throughout the 20th century and into the 21st, Latin America's most famous intellectuals have been radical and Marxist, resisting imperialism and western dominance over their resources and their people.  The feature of Marx's philosophy I admire the most is its emphasis on combining Theory with Praxis.  Praxis is a Greek word meaning action.  Theory, which strives for wisdom and knowledge, differs from praxis, which strives for doing.  Karl Marx's philosophy emphasized the importance of putting theory into action while confronting problems.  Radical Latin American thought has incorporated this project into its own intellectual tradition, which appeals greatly to me because it's always been important to me that my ideas remain consistent with my actions.  Since the Spanish came to the Americas, the struggle in 'Latin America' has been one of dealing with a violent and dehumanizing impostor.  This was not helped in the America's attaining independence from Spain and other imperialistic countries, as corporate interests stemming mostly from the United States has perpetuated a state in which most of the natural resources in Latin America are owned by foreign sources.  As a result of US-led coups of democratically elected leadership such as Allende in Chile and Arbenz in Guatemala, US friendly dictatorships have been periodically established in Central and South America.  Such dictatorships have been harmful to peasant workers and democracy, generally.  These and other factors have contributed to an increasingly radical intellectual culture that had very real obstacles to rise up against.  To be a theoretician was useless in the face of oppressive forces.  Practice had to be combined with theory, to produce much needed change.  The Cuban Revolution is not the result of ignorant or careless rebels.  Che Guevara was a well educated doctor who made it a requirement of joining his revolution that his soldiers learned to read.  He was a well-spoken, thoughtful philosopher who's Marxist theories required of him the taking up of arms against imperialistic opposition.  Guevara met with Jean Paul Sartre and Simon de Beauvoir, and was declared by Sartre to be 'not only an intellectual but also the most complete human being of our age', a man who 'lived his words, spoke his actions and (whose) story and the story of the world ran parallel.'  Such respect stems from Sartre's own emphasis on combining theory and praxis, all wrapped up in his own philosophical theories on authenticity.  A guerilla fighter through and through, Guevara was also thoughtful and remarkably consistent.

The history of 20th century Latin American philosophical thought is bound up in this idea of Praxis.  Intellectuals sought liberation and the extension of education and empowerment for the disenfranchised.  While it's had mixed results (the Presidency of Hugo Chavez, it appears, is one built up on great philosophical notions of empowering the weak and realizing liberation from imperialistic powers, but lacks real authentic leadership - see 'The Silence and the Scorpion' to gain perspective on the Chavez Presidency), this philosophical tradition is both noteworthy and honorable.  I am much more attracted to it than the sort of thinking that has no bearing on political realities.  As we witness changes and developments in Latin America, we must consider this deep tradition of facing imperialism with a perspective leaning toward Marxist Theory and Praxis.  The rise of socialist presidents such as Bolivia's Evo Morales (of indigenous descent) and Ecuador's Rafael Correa comes out of this deep intellectual tradition.  If we are to take Marxist theory seriously, we will also have to note that theory does not come from nowhere, but from historical realities.  The leftist presidencies being established in Latin America would be more friendly to capitalism if there had existed a more respectful historical relationship between United States business interests and the people of Latin America.

Marxism did not die with the Soviet Union, though Stalinism certainly did.  While we may now be more suspicious of the results that would come out of an armed revolt against capitalist powers, we should still respect the Marxist notion that Capitalism carries with it the seed of its own destruction.  While that is its own essay, we must also respect the Marxist notion that, in the face of imperialistic forces, historical conditions create demands that one fight for the disenfranchised.  This fight will surface in many forms, not least of which in the liberally poignant academic settings, which is the story of Latin American philosophy.  Whether such ideas translate well into budding political leadership remains to be seen, but one cannot help but find the ghost of Marx in Bolivia during the World Peoples' Summit on Climate Change and the Rights of Mother Earth.  Shortly after the 2009 Copenhagen Conference on Climate Change occurred, Bolivia held its own conference, in which a Universal Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth was signed.  While the Copenhagen meeting had selected delegates from invited country, Bolivia's meeting combined around 30,000 people migrating from over 100 countries to participate in this open event.  One cannot help but find a trace of Marx in this, and it makes sense such a meeting would be held in Bolivia.

I believe there is a lot we can learn from Latin American philosophy, not least of which its emphasis on Praxis.  There's a judiciousness in their philosophical tradition and their critiques of Capitalism.  When I admire the amazing artwork of Diego Rivera, I can't help but think there's a deep truth being conveyed.  In our struggle for universal health coverage and improvements in our educational system, desperately needed in the slums of our country, we should investigate the works of Ruben Dario, Jose Enrique Rodo, Victor Raul Haya de la Torre, and Jorge Portilla, among others.  Philosophically rich, such thinkers could provide inspiration and a fresh perspective as the discrepancy between the rich and poor continually widens in the United States and we search for new ways of protecting the rights and liberties of the American people.  We are perhaps in need of our own revolution, and Latin America Philosophy is rich in revolutionary theory.


  

Introduction to Mike's Blog

This is the first of a series of blogs created by Mike and Anita, an engaged couple and founders of the alt-folk band, The Mighty Have Fallen.  This is not a music blog, but rather a space for them to explore concepts and ideas, ranging from philosophical questions and issues to remarks on culture and politics.  We hope that the content will create dialogue, criticism, and contemplation.  We also hope to turn our readers onto cool new bands and artists.

Mike: So, why start a blog?  As an introduction, I studied philosophy for years, hoping to become a professor in a university.  In the ultra-competitive field of philosophy, I've yet to find my niche, and this last year I was rejected from every PhD program I applied to and I haven't yet found work teaching.  Not knowing what to do, I decided, with my fiance Anita, to move up to the Pacific Northwest, where I'd at least be in a politically progressive and culturally exciting area surrounded with trees and large mountains.  I'm enjoying the rainy and cold northwest as it's perfect for hot-coffee-cup contemplation and pondering.  I'm living next door to probably the greatest book store in the world, Powell's Books - literally a city full of the creative outbursts of artists and intellectuals.  In my short time up here I've sat down to debate theories of epistemology with a group of philosophers, I've attended a book-signing by punk rocker and UCLA lecturer in evolutionary biology Greg Gaffin (Bad Religion), and I've participated in the most talented open-mic I've yet been to.  I want to participate in the cultural outpouring that is Portland, Oregon.

And so I am starting my blog. 

I could see myself writing books, fiction or otherwise, but any project I start seems to get shelved after a short while.  Looking back, my forte is in the journal, the short essay, the blog.  So I'm starting this blog to inspire a flow of ideas and studies.  I hope that people will subscribe and interact with my posts.

Subjects I see myself writing about in the near future are Greg Gaffin's book 'Anarchy Evolution', Movies and Music, and I might start publishing in pieces a short story I wrote years ago.  I'm currently gathering my thoughts together to write an article on Latin American Philosophy, History, and Politics.

Please subscribe and I hope to get some substantive essays coming your way in the near future.

Thanks,
Mike Pankrast
mikepankrast@gmail.com