Metal War

I'm beginning to think that the most important type of music in the U.S. right now is Christian metal. Those who disagree should watch the film Jesus Camp to see what I'm talking about. This genre has become a real phenomenon; doing for Christian youth what hip hop has done for so many other young demographics. Coming out of suburban America, bands like Demon Hunter, As I Lay Dying, and War of Ages have become wildly popular. The music is ferociously loud-mouthed and abrasively masculine, and it preaches (or sends messages about) the word of God. War of Ages is from Erie, Pennsylvania, and they look like a fairly run-of-the-mill rock band. And at first listen, they sound like your average screaming metal band. But then there are the lyrics: "We clench our fists and bare our arms/Only to cry out in Your presence/oh God to all who try to end my life/I stand firm and now I've been set free saved by Him/Whom I call king." The warlike cover art for the album "Pride of the Wicked" and band's name are apparently drawn from the idea that humans must fight their own weaknesses such as pride and greed to be closer to God.

But references to militancy appear in much of the Christian metal I've heard, and I have to wonder how much of this is sentiment is aimed at the "Islamic enemy." The term jihad does not refer to "holy war," as so many have said, but for most Muslims it means to struggle to improve oneself in the eyes of God. So - maybe there are more parallels between the two religions than we've been led to think. Anyway, for me there's still something disconcerting about the metaphor of war that is used so often in Christian metal bands' lyrics. Demon Hunter's latest album The Triptych includes a track called "Soldier's Song," which says, "Turn over the tables and watch them run/You’ll be the weapon they can’t outgun" (referring to Jesus, I assume). As Jesus Camp points out, most Evangelical Cristians believe that Jesus will soon return to judge all of humanity, and those who are not saved will burn in hell. I guess the violence of the impending apocalypse is impossible to avoid.

The inverse of beauty

Last night I finished Zadie Smith's third novel, On Beauty. My reaction is that she brilliantly explored a million different topics but never quite grabbed hold of any of them. But maybe that's the point. The book tells the story of the Belseys, a biracial middle class family living in a college town in Massachusetts, and their conservative British counterparts, the Kippses. Howard Belsey (who is white and originally from London) is an art history professor struggling with a mid-life crisis and a failing marriage to Kiki, his African American wife. Zadie Smith paints a dreary portrait of academia, middle-class life, and marriage - and she eloquently explains her thoughts about these topics in this interview. In a Salon review, Laura Miller said that On Beauty is "full of love." I can't quite see it this way; I know that it's a comic novel and was modeled after E.M. Forster's Howard's End, but the themes are too close to home to make me laugh. Though Zadie certainly shows empathy in her descriptions, her satirical jabs are dead-on.

Howard talks about art with murky language to obscure the fact that he has no tangible grasp on what he's discussing. Academia comes across as incestuous and miserably pretentious. And it is. As a former graduate student and aspiring scholar, I wish I could say this weren't true. Zadie is right to point out the bitter unfairness of the university system, as well as the often lopsided sexual dynamics between male professors and female students (Howard sleeps with a student who is 40 years younger). She also touches on the painful distance that can creep into a marriage and expand until there is nothing left. Zadie's depiction of Howard and Kiki's dying marriage reflects the fear of divorce many of us seem to have these days. On Beauty is impressive and confusing. Zadie Smith generates importantly unsettling feelings about race, class, and politics in academia. She doesn't answer the questions she poses because they are unanswerable.

Warped Vines

Painting by Pablo Amaringo


I've always been wary of tourism. From the time I took the trolley across the border from San Diego to Tijuana at the age of seven, I knew there was something fundamentally wrong with traveling in order to gawk at another culture. And after spending four months in the deep dark continent of Africa, I feel the same way. It's the stark 'us and them' contrast, the economic divide, and the ignorance of other tourists that are most troublesome. It's also the fact that locals often have to put on a show to give tourists what they want to see - a world that is foreign and authentic. But tourism is an industry, and on the other hand I'm sure it's essential to developing countries' economies.

I've been learning about more dangerous and/or deviant forms, i.e. sex tourism, medical tourism, and drug tourism. Medical tourism is an odd concept. I understand the demand for cheap medical treatment, but especially with cosmetic surgery, how could you put your body (and your life) in the hands of someone you don't know and may not be able to communicate with? And how much sightseeing can you do while recovering from surgery? It's beyond me. Anyway, I've become fascinated with drug tourism. Last summer I read Fierce Invalids from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins, where the main character Switters visits a Peruvian shaman and after having an overwhelming 8 hour psychedelic experience, is told he will drop dead if his feet ever touch the ground again. Meanwhile, I came upon this article from Rolling Stone about ayahuasca and the latest psychedelic movement. Supposedly, this potent concoction made from an Amazonian root is the new LSD. Not only do people travel to Peru, Brazil, and other countries for week-long "retreats" like this this one led by psychologist Silvia Polivoy in Brazil, but hipsters and other aficionados in the U.S. eagerly import supplies to make their own brews.

I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. Apparently drug tourism has been going on for several decades - in this 1994 article, Marlene Dobkin de Rios takes a fierce stand against Amazonian drug tourists, saying that the trend is a "contemporary weapon to hasten the demise of native cultures..." as tourists indulge in dangerous fantasies about shamanism and the "exotic, erotic primitive, or happy savage" living in the jungle. Rachel Proctor makes a similar argument, saying that traditional healing is being treatened by the allure of money involved with leading ceremonies for tourists. In my opinion, it's pretty presumptuous for white affluent people to visit Amazonian countries for a week and believe that they will somehow grasp not only the underlying mythologies of the society, but also wisdom and healing practices that have been passed down through generations. The drug tourists seem to think a lot about their own spiritual enlightenment, and not so much about the effects they're having on the people they're hoping to learn from. I suppose it's like most forms of tourism in this way; the visitors are interested in seeing exactly what they expect to see, not necessarily the reality of the situation.

Dreamgirls II

In this case, life imitates art. Dreamgirls was all about the power of image, and so is American Idol, it seems. Melinda was voted off tonight. What a disappointment. Truly, my favorite was LaKisha, but I knew from the start that should would fall victim to a Dreamgirls-esque image bias. That woman has soul. She's fantastic. But it was amazing to watch Melinda come out of her shell and gain confidence. She's admittedly an old-school "motown girl," which must be partly why she didn't make it to the top. The public can only take so much of that old-time flavor. Now it's two young, fresh faces that will go on to the final. I don't know if I'll watch. Jordin is great, but she lacks the life force of the other two... almost reminiscent of Beyoncé in the film. Anyway, what I really want to see is what LaKisha and Melinda will go on to do. They are strong and righteous women.

Vogue

I find it sad that the United States seems to have convinced itself that it stands high above other countries in the area of women's rights. Just check out the latest about Katie Couric as the anchor of the CBS evening news. The big question: is there something wrong with Katie as a news anchor, or are people not ready to see her doing a job that men have done since the invention of television? In truth, Katie has at least 20 years of experience in journalism and she is smart and engaging. Gender simply has to be at the crux of the issue. The CBS producers have had all sorts of trouble figuring out how to "sell" Katie as a serious evening anchor after she left behind the supposedly lightweight genre of morning TV. Why is there this weirdly strict division between morning and evening news? And how can Katie be expected to succeed when people keep picking apart everything about her, from her clothes, makeup, and hair, to her parenting abilities, to her love life? Isn't this beginning to sound a whole lot like the story of a certain senator (whose first name starts with H-i-l-l and ends with a-r-y)?

In slightly more hopeful news, British singer Lily Allen has written several very honest blog postings on her myspace page. She describes feeling hopeless about her appearance, saying she's "fallen victim to the evil machine" of the media, and that she has been researching "gastric bypass surgery, and laser lipo suction." Since Saturday, 1,642 people have left comments on Lily's blog encouraging her to change her image of herself. I think this is a powerful sign that a) celebrities can make an impact by speaking out, and b) something seriously needs to change. Yes, some percentage of women in this country do have a problem with their weight, but I can guarantee that at some point in their lives, 100% of women feel insecure about themeslves because of the thinness shown all around them. There should a massive public forum to talk about the psychological damage that is being done everyday.

Unlawful bodies

I heard something recently that I think everyone in the U.S. should listen to. And no, I'm not talking about the duet between Celine Dion and Elvis last week on American Idol. It's a broadcast from This American Life about the right of Habeus Corpus and the fate of prisoners in Guantánamo Bay. Prepare to be enlightened.

These are trying times. You have to wonder how much lying, torture, deportation, bombing, machismo, wall-building, and corruption this world can handle.

Slick sand

There are no flowers in the desert this year because there wasn't enough rain. But at night, you don't notice. You just see the outlines of tall wind turbines and lights from forlorn houses. Driving alone in the desert at night is lonely. And when you see a gigantic casino with colored lights that flash over the flat ground like moving water, it doesn't make you feel less alone. The Morongo Casino is outside Palm Springs, but for all of its creepy extravagance, it may as well be in Vegas. It is the tallest building in the Inland Empire. I paid a visit to the place on a windy night in March - it was packed. Thick with cigarette smoke and every type of person you can imagine. Every type, that is, except white and middle class.

I've always been torn on the whole Indian gaming industry issue, and after seeing Morongo, my God - it is bizarre. There is so much money going through these places, and as Marc Cooper reports in today's LA Weekly, the industry is only getting bigger. Stephen Pizzo argues that Indian gaming is, and always has been, totally corrupt. The whole production is eerily political. I can't help but think that what these casinos are really doing is slowly (or quickly) draining the pockets of the other disadvantaged minorities in the surrounding areas. There should be a better answer.

Stay fresh!

Pop culture feasts on the Here and Now. It's almost Buddhist in a way - and yet utterly not. Ever since I was allowed to see the interior of a monstrous estate in Bel Air, I've been plagued by a fascination with celebrity gossip websites. Perez Hilton for one. Any news predating the 5th page of Perez's blog - 2, maybe 3 days old - is ancient history. Week-old news is so ancient, it's not even listed on the website anymore. The past is a different universe.

Speaking of the past, I've been brushing up on the history of cellulite. For those who don't know, the term was coined as a marketing ploy for European spas in the 1960s. Women in the U.S. didn't even know there was anything wrong with them until a French salon owner living in New York published a cellulite book in 1973. Though there were many skeptics at the time, we women discovered that we'd better shape up our dimpled fatty selves, and quick! Unfortunately, though women can reduce overall body fat through diet and exercise, fat distribution is almost entirely genetic. If you have a few dimples here and there (as 90% of the female population do), it is your fate. No amount of herbal creams, dietary supplements, injections, or other snake oils will change this. Women have been shamelessly scammed into feeling disfigured.
Too bad every time someone raises this point, it is promptly forgotten.

Shades of white

A few days ago I was walking in an upscale neighborhood on San Vicente Blvd. It was a classic LA day - sunny, about 72 degrees, and people were out in their convertibles and swanky shades. Maybe it was the brightness of the sun or the exclusiveness of the boutique shops around me, but my bare arms suddenly seemed pathetically pale and vulnerable. I understood, for once in my life, the appeal of being tan. Tanning isn't just a phenomenon; it's an institution. And the reality is that it only matters to people with white skin. Tanning is a symbol of leisure, but race lurks under its bronzed exterior. White people already have so much - why do they covet darker skin? Are all sun bathers putting on their own blackface performances? White culture is constantly grasping for some new hip (inevitably "non-white") thing.

I'd never really want to have a perfect golden tan, but sometimes I wish I could hide my white skin. The less I identify with all the baggage that comes with being white the more I expect to look in the mirror and see a completely different person.

Holiday sheep

People tend to shuffle along the same worn paths they've always followed. But why, I ask, must we trot around like blind sheep in the grocery store when a holiday approaches? Nevermind the fact that American holidays have lost most of their traditional religious meanings. The thing is, we don't even celebrate holidays. We just buy stuff.

I'm so tired of seeing the Easter candy lurking behind the Valentine's paraphernalia, which appears three days after Christmas. The yellow chick Peeps sit there innocently on the shelf waiting for the red heart-shaped Peeps to go out of style. Huge volumes of Marshmallow Peeps are manufactured and transported to stores everywhere... where they wait for months until Their Holiday arrives. As it says on the Just Born company website, Peeps are "always in season!"

Wouldn't it be nice to imagine a world where holiday traditions weren't dictated by the marketing of goods by vast industrial corporations?