Marx and Metropolis

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The first few scenes in Metropolis show the working classes at the moment of their shift change on the Machine. The shabby black coveralls sagging on the human frames that render them indistinctly craven—one phalanx shuffles off while the next shuffles in.

But the sons of the ones profiting from these wretches are up in the light, healthy and robust. Naturally, one son is inspired to descend into the depth to find out who is paying the cost of his privilege.

With him, we see the men working on the machine. They are stacked in alcoves up and down the sheer face of the machine, bouncing off their walls, lifting, bowing, turning wheels and pulling levers.

But when the hero rushes to his father to confront him about these horrible conditions, he bursts in on his father in his office.

The men in the office are actively hunching over their desks, and bobbing up and down to see and compare the numbers scrolling on the wall. Their clean and well tailored suits are not distinct enough to really tell them apart.

The movie is an extremely unsubtle call to leave behind amoral capitalism for a kinder more humane approach to industry.

It’s a really old movie. Silent, even.

It’s quaint, because work doesn’t look like that anymore. I guess maybe it used to, back when men lined up next to a machine for their 8 hour (if they were union) shift.

But my job looks more like the guys in the suit next to the ticker tape walls. Communism didn’t really win, but this is the face of capitalism I see as a wage monkey.

The news is full of how this is the year everyone is going to get a new job. Or demand better conditions. We are never so well off that we could not be better off.

What is it we want? I guess some people are okay with spending the time it takes to get their office chair to accept the exact contour of their buttocks.

I’m not so okay with that.

What stories are we telling ourselves about what this work is for? Should it be enough that we eat and stay warm? It’s not enough for the people I know. We want more!

A car! And not just any car…A home…a set of fancy matched mathoms.

…I don’t think this is what Marx had in mind…

But who is Karl to tell us what we want? Maybe Karl Marx is not so relevant as other Karls .

all the leaves are brown

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Andthe sky is blue.

It’s winter in LA and we are in a cold snap. So cold, in fact, that it got below freezing.

Which means that many many plants are having a lot of trouble. It just doesn’t freeze here. It hasn’t been this cold since the 30s.

So, beware. Citrus fruits are going to be expensive soon. Stock up on marmalade.

As for me, I hope my hibiscus make it.

a tufa on modernism and marriage

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Hmmm…thoughts are floating around in my head today.

On the way in to work, I listened to Instapundit’s podcast on Marriage and Caste. Ms. Hymowitz has a lot to say, and talks about how marriage is a very valued institution in America.

She also mentions that in the 50s, people got married even younger than ever before. Younger than now, that’s for sure. My best research says ladies got married at age 20, on average.

Now…about the 50s…I spent this week sick at home in my cute house.

That house that I love so much and am renovating to look modern, just like the time period it was built, in 1950.

It is staggering, how much was changing in the 50s. They talk about the 60s being a time of revolution, but that was just the people catching up with…well…everything!

okay, the teens and 20s were wild and crazy and full of ideas and wealth. Yes, the wealth and ideas were churned by the Great War, what we now call world war one. Hopelessness, the Flu that killed almost anyone that was left standing after the trenches were abandoned.

Meaning? God? What did that mean to anyone at those times? Wild and free to be…wild and free.

But then the depression knocked the wind out of everyone. Resources? Invention? Everyone was too busy making sure they could eat.

Well, Hitler came along and saved us all by being as evil as anyone could be. Hooray! Let’s fight him. Let’s everybody fight him.

And in doing so, the economy got back on it feet. There was fighting to be done. And work to be done at home, Rosie. There are ships to put together, and enough work for even the ladies to have paying jobs.

They worked, and they worked together. Everyone sacrificed for a reason. We won the war, evil was smashed and the world was once again as it should be.

But all the pressure that the century had put on people up to that point exploded into the 50s.

It’s hard for me to understand how modern the Modern age of 1950 was. How very very much had changed as how fast.

I was researching paint. They said that there were colors that were invented for the first time, because they had the chemical know-how then. That the pinks and pastels and bright colors finally got to be used.

The war had rationed even colors.

And the depression…well, that was entirely in Black and White. Like Fred and Ginger.

Refrigerators and washing machines. And those incredible cars! Modern and sleek and dreamy.

And what did people want to do with this beautiful new world of promise?

they wanted to get married. and live in little houses with a yard and a garage.

IMG_6535

and as soon as possible, thank you very much.

We look back at these stories. Ozzie and Harriet. Leave it to Beaver.

I’ve always thought of them as traditional. But they were not. They were very very modern.

which is kinda blowing my mind right now.

On the other hand, why not have a cute little family in a safe little house that has every comfort in it? In so many ways, isn’t that the pinnacle of what we could wish for?

Not the 60s kids, though. They had to tear it down. They wished for anything but.

maybe because they already had it.

Hmmm……

marshmallow man gives us a mean look

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DSC00139
Well, this is Death Valley after all.

if anyplace gives you a reason to look tough, Death Valley should be one of them.

I am wishing that I were tougher than I am today. My tonsils are sqeeaazing my voice into a small whisper or squeak.

I am pale and mostly weak. Which means that all the things I would like to be doing, I must forgo. No more working on the door refinish project.

I must REST.

and no cleaning out the house in preparation of the puppy.

I must REST.

“Can I take a rest from resting?”

“NO!”

but I can, while on hold with the telephony people here at work, admire the face of marshmallow man, making his tough I’m-a-cowboy face.

I can imagine that he will turn around and say “Howdy little Lady…” in his I-was-raised-in-L.A.-but-born-in-Texas accent.

It makes the hold music more bearable.

“…Thank you for calling the helpdesk. Please be prepared to provide your national user ID, a description of the problem, your computer ID and any error message on your equipment. Please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order recieved by the next available help desk representative….”

At least it’s not the same hold music as they have for the conference-call line. This is classical music; the stuff from the conference calls is new age electronic music.

Well, I’m prepared, but the hold lingers on…

Why does nobody listen? Why does nobody care?

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Christmas was great this year. Chris raided the rubble of Tower’s fall and came up with some good CD stocking stuffers.

But he also asked me for an obscure import he’d heard about:

Labrador “Instamatic Lovelife”

…proving once again that I will never ever be able to reliably guess what sort of music this man likes.

Basically, Labrador sounds a lot like the pet shop boys if they were from Denmark and hadn’t mastered English. There’s something abba-esque about the lyrics. And the pronunciation.

“…that you will try to listen…that you will try to see…all the things I stand for…’cause I know you’re fond of me

Fond of me

Why does nobody listen? Why does nobody care? It’s love and disaster…”

When we sat to listen to the CD, I poked Chris and said, “You’re fond of me…”

“Oh…” he said. “When I first heard that I thought he was saying, ‘I know you from the Flea’…I thought the Flea might be some local nightclub.”

John Donne and the metaphysical poets ran through my head. “The Flea!” I giggled.

The next day I said “Don’t I know you from somewhere? From the Flea?”

The Tower liquidation had some good stuff, too. Remember Toad the Wet Sprocket? “All I Want”? That video is one that I got to see on Asian MTV when I lived in Mirnyy.

Well, the lead singer for Toad the Wet Sprocket has a solo album: glen Phillips “albulum”

It’s alright. Of course, it’s a little moody and college (following the steps of TTWS). The song “Fred Meyers” brought back fond memories of that Wal-mart-type store that I shopped at in Alaska–exactly the opposite of the intended effect of the song, which was meant to be a railing against big box stores.

But the big winner was Dar Williams’s new one “My Better Self.” Chris introduced me to Dar a long time ago, and we even got to see her in concert at the Warfield in San Francisco.

The first song ‘Teen for God’ was so chillingly dead on that it’s hard to listen to. That’s Dar for you:

“Dear Lord I plan each day
the things I will not do or say
But I’m driven by a passion—is it only there to tame?
It fills my heart and it calls my name, and
This world that you made for us,
I know I know it’s dangerous
So I ride a lot of horses I never even swear
It’s sort of like praying I’m just not there”

Bone on bone…that’s how she can hit you sometimes. Probably good PMS music, when you need something to cry about.

There is another album I didn’t get yet. I found it on a commercial, one of those geico caveman commercials. The group is Royksopp and the song is “Remind Me”

I’ll be ordering it soon, but check out the link. I think the video is way cool.

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Footnote: I just watched the whole Toad the Wet Sprocket video again. Holy God, they are so young. _I_ was so young..a 19 year old zygote. I shudder to think of that time. I will never be that young again. Thank God for that.
Yay and Amen

My view from work

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Eagle Rock 134 EastEagle Rock

Here’s the thing.

January is upon us. The Christmas tree is down, and this monday marks the day of the return to school. For most schools.

That means that traffic will slow.

And the days are long and dark still. The festivities are over, and as far as my workplace is concerned, no company holidays until Memorial Day.

That’s a lot of nothing.

But then again, aren’t we all ready to get down to work? Buckle down and tackle some projects–start that diet, begin the get-in-shape program, whittle down the inbox, or whatever has been on your mind.

Hmm.

Didn’t I do that last year?

Hmmm.

Not feeling enthused about facing traffic at 5:30 am tomorrow. But I’ve gotten used to going to the gym that early and now I can’t even sleep in anymore.

But I’ve never been one to settle into routines easily. Maybe this one will need some adjusting soon.

I share this photo with you, because it is nearly the same view that I see out of my cube window. I am very blessed with a great view out my cube. And Eagle Rock is a pretty good rock.

This year, I think I’m going to try some totally new ideas for how to use my cube-time. We’ll see how they work out.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Again.

The puppy cometh

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One of these cuties will come home with us on the 20th.

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We’re pretty excited.

But the thing is, because they are pedigree dogs, we have to have a name ready for her. She’ll have “papers” that will need to be filled out.

We wanted to wait until we had her for a little while, to know what sort of name she should have. But now, I’m under pressure.

I thouht Moxie woudl be a good name.

Or maybe, since the airedale breed is English, an English royal title would be good. I like the name Marquesa, and we could call her Kessa…

But Chris thinks that Marquesa sounds evil. I guess he never read regency romances…

We’ve got two weeks, and I guess we better figure it out.

2007

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Somewhen, a while back, I never thought I would make it to this year.

But here we are! How fabulous is that?

I have hopes for this year.

I have a huge to-do list for this year.

Oh yeah, it’s my birthday too…

Happy Birthday to me.

Good News

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In the Wall Street Journal Front Page

Domestic violence rate fell 50%
from 1993 to 2004, the Justice Depart-
ment said, citing no single cause. Na-
tive-American women suffer the most.

Too bad for the native american women, but YAY! for domestic violence being so incredibly way down.

YAY and YAY! that’s amazing news.