A version of this was seen by a LOT of people.
I deviated from what I knew to be true once – and I paid the price.
Love, X
Category Archives: Social Media
Remakes & Covers (At The Road House)
Each time a movie or song is redone, I tell myself not to read the comments. I can recite the permutations verbatim without needing to dive in.
Although it surprises people, I saw the original Road House movie at the theater in 1989. Although it was a contrived and ridiculously stupid movie, I loved it. Watching it was difficult at the time because there was a large man breathing very loudly and making running commentary during the initial part of the movie. I can see why women thought Patrick Swayze was good-looking. Or Sam Elliott. And I can see why a lot of men thought the action was riveting. Of course, it was stupid. Road House and all the movies like it aren’t shooting for an Oscar. I call all these movies “Kicking Ass in Kentucky.” But Road House was entertaining stupidity. Everyone in the theater knew that the bad guy was going to get his ass kicked.
We all need this kind of story from time to time. Escapism, over-the-top romance. The movies that tap into this need have to be simplistic and badly rendered, much like our lives. Top Gun was another dose of testosterone disguised as a movie. “Reacher” on Amazon is another example of a clichè that makes for great television. I haven’t watched an episode of it. I can, however, see that it resonates for the same reason that Road House did.
A spectacular method for dealing with remakes is not to watch them. But it seems that people are incapable of finger control; they must get on the internet and insist that nothing can top the original. I love generalizing. So I will go out on the clichéd limb of saying that most of these people are the same ones who slobber as they insist that there is no good music anymore.
Almost everything is an echo and permutation of what precedes it.
True inspiration and originality are rare commodities. Almost everything is built on the back of something else or someone else’s idea.
I just wish the commenters would get a dose of what creativity feels like and avoid the relentless onslaught of repetition as they all say the same thing.
Even though I’m older, I lean in the opposite direction. Bring on the remakes and the covers. Some of them are going to be good. And some? They eclipse the original. Yes, there is going to be a lot of content and nonsense that doesn’t appeal to us. And that is precisely what makes the world of entertainment so enjoyable.
There’s something for everyone, even if we’ve seen it all before.
Love, X
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Unintended
I got a thought-provoking message a little bit ago. Telling me what I already know. I was sitting in the creek in the cool water, so I took a moment. Here’s what I wrote back:
“You’re right. Expecting easy money is stupidity. But I will counter with the fact that unless you own the output, you’ll most likely ruin your body and sell your soul to make a fabulous living. Even with hard work. Even when you do everything right, you can fail. And as much as I love this country, it fundamentally frustrates me that we’re the only modern country without universal health care. People can have whatever opinion they want about it. But until you have a medical catastrophe, especially one through no fault of your own, you simply don’t understand how it can financially ruin you. Even with private insurance. It’s undeniably a fact that universal health care cost less per person then we’re currently paying now for our hodgepodge system. We’re supposed to be the country of individual liberty and freedom. Yet, unlike the rest of the world, we can’t even get our act together enough to provide healthcare without restrictions. For me, universal healthcare also comes with universal mental health care. All of us who are observant can’t help but notice that too many of us suffer with mental health issues, depression, or relationship issues. Failing to provide universal access is a guaranteed way to sit back and observe our societal problems worsen. Regarding education, it should not be fundamentally looked at as a way to fuel a production economy. Education has earned its own birthright. Yet, our system tends to reward those already rewarded. About half of our adult population reads at a sixth grade level or lower. That is staggering. It also explains a great deal of the issues we’re dealing with regarding the divides we suffer while trying to make compromises and decisions regarding social policy. People with means live in a different world than those of us who don’t have money. As for the rest, I’m different than the rest of y’all. I do not expect to get up and find that everybody I loved the day before will still be alive. It’s another one of those things that until you experience it, simply can’t be communicated. And when that happens to you, every cent you’ve accumulated in lieu of enjoying life and being with the people you love might as well be sand in your boot. You can’t practically live every day as if it’s your last. I know in my heart that we’re not put here to be means of production and efficiency. That’s the system we have, but it’s one with which I disagree. Everything and everyone can vanish, no matter who you are and how hard you work. Unlike most Americans, I do not believe in an interventionist God. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in the creator, but observation reinforces that we’re supposed to be using our brains to solve our problems. I believe that no matter who you worship, we’re expected to use our reason and collective ability in the furtherance of improving the quality of human beings as they live their lives. We’re definitely not doing that.”
Love, X
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M a s te r
Someone noted that one reason they love theaters is that it’s about the only place left where phone usage is unwelcome. Everyone is expected to relax and enjoy the experience. Violating the usage expectation results in interference with other people being able to enjoy their experience. Irritation at those who ignore the expectation is universal. There are so many other circumstances in which the ubiquitous nature of phones interferes with the simple act of presence or attentive listening. You’re not checking your phone; it’s checking you. The nostalgia for days gone by results from people realizing that lack of constant access to the world meant that you were in the moment with the people and places you chose to be with. Yet, here we are. We’ve normalized interruption. A smart person pointed out that it’s one thing to want things and another to need them. Like all technology, its existence was supposed to make our lives easier, more efficient, and less stressful. Yet, it’s obvious that the opposite is the case for a lot of people. We are technology addicts. If you don’t believe it, try laying it down for four hours. You’ll react with the “…but what if…” argument. It will overwhelm you. I watch so many people let work slide into off-hours thanks to phones. “Let me take a quick look at…” becomes the preface poetry of the modern age. I love technology. And even that phones are so useful. But I can’t help but contemplate the fact that so many people seem to allow their phones to be their master. Love, X
Thanks Twitter, Or X, Or Whatever
It’s bizarre seeing my name everywhere now. It’s bad enough that every school-aged child must learn my name as part of the alphabet, followed by the agony of solving for X when they stumble into “math.” And most maps tell me where I am by noting, “You are here,” accompanied by an X on the diagram. Dang it – I know where I am. Most of the time, anyway.
Years ago, the NWA Mall opened a store geared toward memorabilia for the Malcolm X movie. They invited me to come and take a bounty of X-related merchandise. When the radio station The X changed its name, I wrote them a letter, which they amusingly read on the air.
All I’m asking of Elon Musk is that he gives all of us named X a little compensation. I think 50K would be nice. There aren’t that many legally-named X people in the United States. More publicity. I saw that the account that has the X name on “Twitter” might indeed get quite a bit of money for the name.
It’s a strange coincidence that I came to the name X with a flip of a coin; otherwise, my name would be Q.
X
About Weight 0625
Have y’all noticed the same thing?
About Weight 0624
I watch so many people make it complicated.
There aren’t shortcuts. It’s just deciding that your goal is worth it and finding a way to make it happen.
X
Candles Are Meant For Rekindling
The following is a story that came from inspiration for the song linked after the story. It might be better if you listen to the song first (in the comments) and then read the story…
Candles Are Meant For Rekindling
Sam sat on the old couch, waiting for Julia to come inside from work. In front of him, one of his wife’s scented candles burned. He sat there for thirty minutes, time frozen. Tuesday afternoon would be as good a time as any to change the path of his life.
He heard her key in the lock as she came inside. When she saw him sitting on the couch with the candle in front of him, she stopped.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“I’d like to talk to you, honey.”
A strange look passed over her face, one he recognized to be fear.
“It’s not like that at all. Please sit here next to me?”
Julia dropped her purse on the coffee table near the candle and reluctantly sat down.
Sam turned slightly toward her. He took her right hand in his and cradled it with his fingers. He leaned over and kissed her. She looked bewildered.
With his left hand, he reached inside the candle and extinguished the tiny flame.
“What?” She asked
With his right hand, he pulled her hand towards his face and kissed it.
He picked up the lighter next to the candle and carefully lit the candle again.
“I’m sorry Julia. I took you for granted. I can’t explain why I let us grow distant. I relit the candle to show you that I appreciate you and love you. I can’t make up for the years that I didn’t see you for who you were.”
He looked at Julia’s face. It had softened. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“I’m going to play a song for you. And I’d like you to sit with me and listen. We don’t need to talk. I just want you to know that I’ll never take you for granted again.”
Sam picked up the remote and hit play. The room filled with the reverb melody of the song. Though both of them preferred older music, the song captured the sound and feel of times long past.
After a few seconds, Julia leaned into him and sighed.
They sat and listened, leaning further into one another. Sam smiled. Although nothing had changed, he could feel that everything had shifted.
End…
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Where love resides, words are superfluous. Presence and appreciation are the only requirements. Love set aside for a future day is a fool’s folly.
May the love you have be rekindled with the reverb of a distant melody.
Love, X
It IS You
I’m no fan of photography, but I do love pictures. Over the years, I became so tired of people’s reluctance to have their pictures taken. I was once a fan of guerilla photography or in-the-moment shots. Digital transformed the world. I could take endless pictures without concern for staging, lighting, speed, or detail. Except the one consequence that emerged was people’s reluctance to have their pictures taken. I let it dampen my enthusiasm and slowly stopped enjoying the attempt. People do have the right to express displeasure at having their photos taken. But. I don’t understand it. They want to curate, approve, or control their image. The weird thing about it is the element of control. These same people walk around all day, and people see them in all manner of contortions and situations. They are in view, observed, and noted hundreds of times a day without the slightest possibility of them being able to reduce, filter, or affect it. Most of us are in countless passive surveillance videos and camera shots. We’ve become mostly blind to it. At the heart of it all? If someone is taking a picture of you, it’s overwhelmingly because they know you, like you, love you, and want to capture a small slice of you, captured in time and place. Everyone has a camera in their pocket now. I shake my head at the fact that so many want to take pictures of other people and yet recoil if the urge is reciprocal in others. It’s becoming unhealthy – that urge to curate. As for me, I might not love some of the pictures taken of me, but all of them ARE me in whatever moment is captured. I relish it when anyone wants a picture of me. Not because of vanity… (because I’m not George Clooney). Rather, because it demonstrates interest. I’ve lost almost all my aversion to worrying about how pictures of me look. I miss the days when I could snap a photo of any moment filled with the people around me. Because no matter how you think you look, you are still you twenty-four hours a day. The fact that a picture is being taken is a testament to your presence in life. It is bewildering to me in an age of constant surveillance that people strive so hard to control their own curation. Let it be, let it flow, and feel appreciated. Photography isn’t accusation. It’s a frozen moment in time of how you really look. It isn’t intended to provoke an identity crisis. Relax. We all see you as you all day. Love, X
Who We Are
I’m a very hands-on affectionate person. Could it be a trauma response to my childhood? I hope so. I unilaterally rejected almost all the behaviors and habits of my parents. There are some consequences to growing up that way that have positive benefits. I’m not worried about being emotional, saying I love you, hugging, or expressing myself. I’m not aggressive, but there is a buried hardness inside me thanks to my dad. I didn’t realize that it could be a good thing until much later in life. It’s there if needed. My instincts are a guide for me. That too is probably a trauma response. I’m aware of the fact that it developed from needing to be dialed into the potential for drama and violence and the danger of lesser people. It can be an anxiety response that doesn’t serve my happiness sometimes. But its presence and the overthinking it causes has at times been a lightning bolt in my head that frequently categorizes people for me, even when there’s nothing observable to justify it. I can’t change things that happened decades ago. Likewise, I am happy that the maelstrom of toxicity affected me. I would have rather grown up otherwise. I can’t change that, though. I wish I could double back twenty years and see if these realizations would yield a different me. But that past thinking always robs the present and the future. I’m me, and you’re you. Both of us have the opportunity to redefine and discard the things about ourselves that don’t work well for us. Mostly, though? We don’t. Change is hard, insight is sporadic, and the motivation to put in the work to be who we’d like is unimaginably uncomfortable. Love, X
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 