A while back, on Terry Gross's Fresh Air show, she interviewed a guy who'd written a book entitled, Who Was Jesus? and they talked about the significance of the crucifixion. The author explained that crucifixion was a punishment saved for the lowest of the low, and that's why Jesus's manner of death was referred to as "the folly of the cross." Because it was sheer idiocy for people of that time to imagine worshipping someone who died on the cross.
Not unlike future generations worshipping someone who died in the electric chair, I imagine.
(Heh. I can just read the mail from fundamentalists expressing horror at my comparing the cross to the electric chair. <Rubs hands together gleefully.>)
Speaking of the electric chair, have I mentioned that Stephen King's The Green Mile is really good? When the man has an editor he is very good. I can't believe he's going to wrap this story up in only one more installment: John Coffey, Percy, William Wharton, Brad, the warden... I can't wait.
Today is the 22nd anniversary of Richard Nixon's resignation. He resigned the day before my 8th birthday. You do the math about what tomorrow is.
I was in Bermuda when he resigned. I knew that the President was in trouble. I wasn't watching the Watergate hearings or anything, although my father says that he was watching them fairly steadily --
For many years I have been saying that my father is the only person alive who admits to voting for Richard Nixon. I have no idea where I got this idea from, but it is false -- my father never voted for Nixon, although he did vote for Reagan (twice) and even registered as a Republican, in 1988, the same and only election in which I was registered as a Democrat. My father voted for Kennedy in '60, Humphrey in '68, and, because he couldn't stand McGovern either, the Libertarian "or somebody" in '72. He hated Nixon, starting back in the McCarthy hearings (or before), and he didn't trust him. My father is not quite as right of center as I've always thought, which is cool. It's nice that parents can still surprise you, for good and for bad.
-- at the time. During the election season in '72 I remember saying that Nixon was a crook, which was pretty astute political commentary for someone who couldn't vote until '84. And more astute than most of the voting population, as the returns showed.
The whole family was in Bermuda for vacation, and I was making a total nuisance of myself, investigating every nook and cranny of our beach house looking for my presents. Deirdre, my sister, told me not to spoil the surprise, but I couldn't help myself: I kept looking. I found them. I can't remember what they were now, but I know one of them was a doll.
When Nixon resigned I was really upset that he hadn't done it on my birthday. In a twisted tiny tot's logic, I figured that if he had resigned on my birthday, it would somehow be due to the fact that it was my birthday. I finally reconciled myself to the explanation that he resigned the day before my birthday so as not to mess up the celebration on my birthday.
My birthday, in other words, was left to celebrate me. And I say I'm not an egomaniac -- the truth will out.
Went to see Trainspotting last night with Darin, CJ, Lance, Greg, and Timo. In case you've been in a cave or at the Republican convention or something recently, Trainspotting is the latest entry in the genre of the happy-go-lucky heroin addiction scene.
No, no, it's a fairly gruesome look at being lower-class in Scotland. The movie certainly gives you a good idea of why heroin is so attractive. I guess any movie that presents the good side of a drug -- all drugs have good sides, that's why people like them -- is considered to be "glamorizing" the drug. Because that's how we do things in this country: any time a positive side is shown to "an evil socially agreed-upon to be destroying the moral fiber of our people," whether it's drugs or sex or thinking for yourself, it's glamorizing it.
Not that I am pro-drugs. I'm rather anti-them, mostly because they fuck up people's thinking and behavior and whenever you're with people who are on drugs (most drugs, anyhow), the conversation is always about drugs, this drug, how it compares to other drugs, and how to get more of this drug. Whee ha. Count me out.
The next minute, Rebecca says, Alison, do you have any Valium? That's the good part about dealing with coke monsters. If you don't like the topic of conversation, just wait a minute and you'll get a new one. On the other hand, it never really changes at all. It's like a perpetual motion thing. The topic is always drugs.Jay McInerney, The Story Of My Life
This said, I did drink quite a few margaritas last night (after the movie) and I plan on drinking quite a few more tonight. A little bit of alcohol makes me silly and lets me relax. Too much alcohol and I'm either telling you things I shouldn't, whether about me...or about you, or I'm asleep. It's finding that happy balance that's the trick, and one of the nice things about margaritas is that they're too cold to chug down quickly.
Speaking of drugs, I had coffee with Amytal the other day. It was a pretty standard conversation for us -- hard to change old habits, I guess. The funniest part was when I mentioned that a friend of ours "told me you've been a bad boy." A code phrase for, You've been doing a lot of drugs. The angry, wild look in Amytal's eyes when I said that confirmed everything, even as he was saying, "Well, (our friend)'s one to talk..." and he went on to accuse the friend of some wild behavior.
Plus ça change.
Everything's pretty much the same with Amytal: lots of schemes for the future, doing a few interesting things here and there, but other than that not doing much. Which suits his lifestyle just fine. I could check in with him once a year and have a good idea what I'm going to find. It's kind of funny, but I guess that makes him the most stable person I know.