I haven't written in a long while. At least two months.

I'd say this photo really sums up how I've spent this past winter. It captures the image of my condition—Hair and beard unkempt. Eyes drifting into space. Skin pale from lack of sunlight. Ultimately, not a pretty sight.

My friend Noel Passeri had a very detailed comment on my previous post:

"This is very well written and well articulated. A couple thoughts off the top of my head just from the content discussed.... First off I do appreciate and even love the freedom, culture, and prosperity of the "First World." That being said we should be honest if we want to correct some serious moral problems... I haven't read his book, but I don't think Ritzer is right to imply (if he is implying) that advertising/propaganda techniques of over simplifying complex messages is something, in principle, recent or unique to the West. Dictatorships always have massive murals lovingly caricaturising their ideals and their leaders. How is a giant picture of the Ayatollah or Mao different in principle from a skyscraper size Victoria's Secretbill board, or a jingoistic sound bite on cable news? They all can be boiled down to: Person/product/idea is mystical, relatable and good. That's obviously not to say that the U.S. and Iran are equivalent or relative. But they are not totally alien. I really think Thomas Freedman is grossly overrated. He makes broad promulgations on part of the bourgeois elite and is erroneously labeled insightful. The West vs. the Rest paradigm is flawed at it's roots. For decades the U.S. has used and continues to use Muslim dictatorships to maintain U.S. control over Middle Eastern resources, markets etc. The only time there's a real clash is when said Muslim state (or mass movement) doesn't want to play ball with the U.S. And forget Muslim. There are plenty of secular nationalist movements in the Third world that the U.S. has opposed and continues to oppose. Also the idea that wealthy capitalist, industrial countries don't fight each other is historically flawed. That's what World War I was. The idea that U.S. style democracies don't have wars is also flawed. That was the U.S. civil war. If Freedmen is saying "Neolibralism is the path to peace and prosperity" he's neglecting to mention the possible use of force needed to forcibly obtain closed markets with attractive resources. He's also neglecting to mention the race to the bottom (search globally for cheapest labor), and he's also not mentioning the mass hunger caused by growing foods for export and not subsistence. sorry for the rant great writing essay :-p"

Mailman's Corner as Nugget

Recently, I made an off-the-cuff statement about how due to my condition, which has been debilitated by anxiety, I have been simplifying my blog articles by posting serialized segments at a time. My friend Noel has joked that I am unwittingly adopting the format of Fox News. His implication being that Fox News’s now classic style is to air sanitized info-tainment broadcasts in the form of McDonaldized “nuggets.”

I’d hate to think that was happening to me. With that, I give you an analysis I made several years back:

Joe Lehman

Senior Liberal Arts Seminar

Professor Pender

12 June 2005

The McDonaldization of McDonaldization

One thing that makes McDonaldization such an interesting concept is that, as it is relatively new, it has yet to be completely defined. Therefore whatever passes for the concepts actual meaning can still be manipulated and constructed. McDonaldization according to the book The McDonaldization of Society can be applied to nearly every product or institution of global society. Ritzer not only covers familiar ground, discussing globalization and its effects on restaurants and services he expands to include movies, media and childcare. His theme is that McDonaldization is an abstract concept that implies that any staple of society can now be marketed on a global scale, and thusly as a cheaper, watered-down imitation of its original self. The true irony that Ritzer unfortunately does not admit awareness to is that the same can be said for this particular book. The book is essentially formatted in a textbook version. It is not a monograph of very high quality. Over the past few years several superior books have been published. These books deserve the label of having been professionally written. One, for example is Benjamin Barber’s classic Jihad vs. McWorld or even Thomas Friedman’s popular The Lexus and the Olive Tree. Released in the early 1990s, written in profound narrative form, this book predicted the coming struggle between fundamentalism and modernity. This Ritzer book is basically a cheap cookie-cutter rendition, clearly designed for textbook use. In essence, Ritzer’s book is itself a McDonaldized version.

It is not as though Ritzer’s book is actually “bad” in any way, nor is his research sloppy, it is mostly the format of the book that reflects negatively. The majority of Ritzer’s ideas are original, he indicates himself to be more than fairly intellectual. As stated before the problem lies in the format. The book was clearly published with a classroom readership in mind. The language has been simplified for the average reader. Ritzer tones down on making poetic or literary analogies or allusions. A more professional-seeming monograph would likely take more esoteric licenses. He makes clear his points nakedly and dryly. The text itself as it is printed is laid out in very partitioned margins. These margins have unnecessary headings in large bold lettering between each section. They are unnecessary because they consume a great deal of space. Their purpose appears to be to mark lines dividing different topics that Ritzer is covering. He hardly needs to do that; he could just as easily discard these margins consolidate each portion together. Ritzer is essentially following the same process of divided pieces of information into easily readable “nuggets” that he claims is the case with the McDonaldization of newspapers like USA Today. Taking the same written material covered more thoroughly in the New York Times and translating it to a reader-friendly language (11). If chapters are divisions, these margins are subdivisions. The width of space between each line indicates the appearance of an attempt to fill the pages as expediently as possible, the length of content not being of too much concern.

While the majority of his ideas are original, Ritzer exhibits a weakness when he pieces together facts and data previously conceived in Barber’s and Freidman’s books, making his book effectively into secondary material. When Thomas Friedman originally wrote The Lexus and the Olive Tree in 1999, the ideas he espoused were largely his own. It is he that coined the so-called “golden arches theory,” that supposedly no two developed countries that each have a McDonald’s will engage each other in war. Ritzer would be considered unoriginal enough had he simply paraphrased his reference to Friedman’s theory, but he does not even do that. He devotes a large portion of page seven in his book to directly quoting a long passage from Friedman’s book. To be fair to Ritzer, he does manage to stick an insight of his own in there afterward. He points out that the NATO air bombing of Yugoslavia in 1999 which occurred shortly after publication of Friedman’s book does contradict the golden arches theory (7). That earns Ritzer points. But it is still a recycling of ideas not his own all the same. Similarly, Ritzer borrows the theories of a fundamentalist/modern conflict from Benjamin Barber’s Jihad vs. McWorld (184). There is nothing actually wrong in Ritzer’s approach, but it does convey the appearance that he is not entirely speaking from his own ideas. It is thankful then that most of the time that he cites other works, he does bother to include his personal analysis. That compensates for the weakness.

The question that would be most interesting to ask is whether Ritzer deliberately intended to present his book as a “McDonaldized model” of a book on the subject of McDonaldization. He does not make any statement of such a kind at any point. On the contrary, he writes as if he is oblivious to the irony. Perhaps he is, or perhaps he is merely testing the readers’ deductive abilities. It should be remembered that Ritzer himself implies that McDonaldized versions are inferior in quality to the original, so to say the same for this book would be an accurate statement. It is of course up to the opinions of every individual reader whether or not this book’s status as a McDonaldized version is necessarily a negative thing. It can just as easily be interpreted as a positive thing. It depends on the personal needs of the reader. For a college class consisting of students with average intelligence this book is in a suitable format. Students with above average intelligence may not be satisfied and wish to be exposed to a higher standard of reading material. If anything, the choice of this book for class use can be seen as a compromise.

Work Cited

Ritzer, George. The McDonaldized of Society. Revised New Century ed. Thousand Oaks: Pine Forge Press, 2004.

One Community pt. 2

Three years ago, a Yahoo user posted this angst-ridden question on the Yahoo Answers page:

“IM SLOWLY LOSING MY OBSESSiON for....? corbin bleu!!! ahhhhhhhh noooooooooooo i dont want it to go away!!! is this a good thing or a bad thing? i mean, i still love him to freakin death and i would sdo ANYTHING for him or to see him, but...not as much as i used to....help!!!”

Another user posted an answer:

“Maybe I'm wrong but I think you're slowly accepting reality (that is very good). But if you REALLY want him and you're ready to make everything for him, then I tell you not to forget him and make more research on him in order to re-switch on your emotions... Keep in mind one thing though, EVERYONE has/ had his love for a celebrity; and that around the globe there are millions of people who are much better than famous ones. The only thing is that they are not well known and that they don't get the opportunity to get known...!”

In a conversation, when discussing what it was like to accept reality after a brief obsession dissipates, my friend suggested to me that I may be feeling as though I have lost an old friend. That is an apt analogy.
Obsession and fantasy have been so intricate a part of my life that I feel unused to how I can live normally. Everything I have held of value has been to some degree, fantasy-based.
As with the young girl with the Corbin Bleu-crush, I am finding the inevitable reality check to be quite a bummer. Everyone has the mental tools to move on. But mine are a bit rusty.

As I wrote the other day:

I had always viewed my French Woods career through my obsessive patterns. I wanted it to open and close with a perfect symmetry. The need for symmetry is an obsessive desire, but to me, it has always been a normal part of my life.

This past September I wrote:
There was a time when should I be trapped in a personal state of malaise I could find an outlet in going to the places, working the jobs, and being close to the people who fulfill my emotional needs. In the surge of pleasure that accompanies the act of satisfying my needs, I’d feel myself overtaken by an incredible sense of love, or emotional attachment—attachment to whomever it is that shows me the affection that I seek, whether it be romantic or platonic. Sadly, now, that sense of fulfillment no longer seems to apply. Because I know now that the feeling is fake. It is not love at all, but a state of perpetual immaturity. No different than infatuation.

I have been doing a great deal of research on obsession and obsessive fantasies, as of late.

A Yahoo user writes:

What might help is to write down your thoughts - diary, journals, or just bunch of notes. Or better yet, write a story or a script, so that you can purge all those thoughts. I can somewhat relate to your situation, and writing helped me find a bit more peace. Just try to differentiate on what you are doing, to what other things you can do outside that realm. The outside world, can give you newer materials, and will help you with writings - it is said, write what we know. You are still in control, and what you want to do is to stay in control or better yet have a better control of your life.

I guess I should be glad I already thought of that, and have long since embarked on it.

To me, it is not just individual agents that comprise this line of thinking, but whole places, and organizations, like French Woods. One might say, I had the same kind of crush on French Woods for far too many years that the girl had on Corbin Bleu.



To be continued…

One Community

One community I’d have to return to consistently was French Woods Festival of the Performing Arts, located in the Catskill Mountains, a mere two hours from where I grew up in upstate NY. As the ‘mailman’ for seven summers (preceded by eight summers as a camper and a CIT, starting at age 12) I have made being Joe the Mailman my alter ego—or primary ego, depending on your opinion.

A position I had where I commanded respect, enjoyed serving as a mentor to campers, and happily received the toasts of a grateful staff.

I had my own fiefdom. I ran the department true to my own design, had total autonomy in my management style, which had always sat well with the administration…or so I had thought. If there were any complaints, at least I never heard them. But I always did fear the day would come when I just might.

One might say, it was the one job I’ve had where, all my physical and mental handicaps aside, I was damn good at it. I was my own boss. I shaped the mailroom not only by work habits, but my idiosyncrasies.

I could make my image an icon, with my “Priority Male”—not “mail”—T-shirt, with its sleeves cut off. With my olive drab sun hat and my shades.

I could hop across the campus to my distinctive skip. The signs of my cerebral palsy-affected gait were not viewed as freakishness, but as awesomeness. (Anywhere else but French Woods I display my trotting and skipping, heads turn as though surprised and disturbed). One friend has gone as far as to dub my hop, “the Mailman Hop.” I imagine singing “Let’s Mailman Hop” to the tune of the Cookies’ classic “Let’s Turkey Trot!”

Eli Wiesel has said:

“Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing.”

I am naturally an obsessive man. So the concept of love is indeed a struggle. But friendships are very real. I feel that I will carry the longest-lasting friendships from French Woods. So many, I have met through the camp, at one time or another.

At the age of 20, I first became counselor to campers at age 10. So I feel a special bond in that we continue our friendship ten years apart.

Reflection on Writing

A few days ago I made this reflection on my habits as a writer:

It is merely a matter of my psychological disposition that fears alienating people and driving them away, and I simply do not wish to be the writer who puts all his focus on what he finds acceptable to the audience of his own mind. I am a realist. I know that in today’s market, there is the reality of maintaining repeat readership to consider. Psychologically, I have always feared abandonment. (This is an issue for another post, of course). Like many people with self-identity issues, I rely on the approval of others to define and strengthen my identity.

Basically, the two main considerations I have as a writer are in the business sense and in the egoistic sense.

My business sense tells me that it is not economically prudent for a writer to write as he pleases without any consent for the values and the intellectual limits of the audience he intends to sell to.

One only consider the case of Jonathan Franzen, when he rejected his novel The Corrections to appear on Oprah’s book club some years back.

I turn back the clock little more than five years, when I was a senior at Franklin Pierce:

Joe Lehman

Senior Liberal Arts Seminar

Professor Pender

10 December 2005

The Fiction Industry in the World of Globalization

Sometime between 1998 and 2000, around the age of sixteen found this writer strolling through New York’s Chinatown with my father, a fairly prominent poet and book critic. Along the way we happened across two authors my father had been acquainted with who were apparently also out on a leisurely stroll, catching the city’s nightlife. One of these authors was Jeffrey Eugenides, who had recently seen his novel The Virgin Suicides adopted for the screen in a successful Hollywood production. The other was Jonathan Franzen, who shortly after our encounter would achieve acclaim for his breakthrough novel The Corrections. As we exchanged greetings I recall one of them asked me if I wanted to be a poet like my dad. I told them that I do occasionally write poetry, but what I really aspired to be was a novelist of fiction. The two authors seemed to find this answer very pleasing. Looking back at this incident I find it incredible my idealism toward the thought of entering my intended career. I had little idea then of the complex state of the market for fiction in the United States today. Although I rest assured that I am in no way deterred from fulfilling my goal of becoming a great fiction writer, I will do so with the knowledge that it is becoming increasingly difficult for novelists to earn a successful living. Several factors point to a decline in the market for fiction in particular and a decrease in American readership in general.

The present literary market in America finds it virtually under the thumb of corporate dominance. It is as though the market is a direct casualty of the so-called movement toward globalization. In what Kim Campbell of the Christian Science Monitor wonders may or may not be “the death of literature,” the industry is finding itself more and more commercialized, the results of this commercialization see “too much spotlight on bestsellers,” and a growing belief that “publishers are focusing only on celebrities at the expense of lesser-known authors” (¶2-3). The common effect of globalization, or globalized capitalism on most industries is that the larger marketplace of ideas and innovations are continually pushed to the side, with the cheaper, more expediently mass produced—and consequently mediocre, at the top. This is evidently the case in the book industry. Campbell points out that this globalization process is hardly a new and sudden occurrence, for, “commercialization has been seeping into the book industry for decades, ever since the job of publishing has fallen into fewer and more corporate hands” (¶7). The erosion of an industry into the ownership of fewer players is a trademark not only of globalization but also of capitalism in general.

Authors and aspiring authors find this commercialized literary world more exclusive than ever before. It is as though one has to be a big-name author a lá Stephen King or Tom Clancy. As one fiction author Paul Cody laments, “everyone in the industry says how fewer people are reading and buying books, and fewer still are reading so-called literary fiction, work that demands attention and an IQ over 100” (¶1). In other words, most of the fiction the masses generally read is limited to cheap potboiler novels that travelers use to pass the time on airplane rides. According to Publishers Weekly in order to capitalize on the most popular trends of the current market, more authors are turning to adopting the themes of these trends, incorporating them into their own work. A particular example of this is the phenomenon of Harry Potter books. Apparently when Harry Potter first appeared on the bestseller lists of the United States after its initial success in Great Britain, several authors from James Patterson to Isabel Allende have taken to foraying into the world of juvenile fiction. They have recognized how Harry Potter has captured the attention of adults as well as children and seek to follow in J.K. Rowling’s success. Rowling is seen as a fluke author, the unexpected and unprecedented rags-to-riches tale of an obscure writer instantly elevated to fame and fortune. A label also attributed to Dan Brown, author of The DaVinci Code. (Zeitchik, 12-13). One should not put too much stock into the idea of this type of success occurring on a widespread level.

Given the prevalence of struggling authors in the industry, Brown and Rowling should be seen as the exception, not the rule. Paul Cody is not an author who matches anywhere near the success of such “big” names. He has had several books published and has had to face the tremendous difficulties of doing so without celebrity status. In a personal email to this writer, to whom he is a neighbor, Cody shares his experiences in the publishing world and his views on the fiction industry. For him, his books take a considerably long and frustrating time to sell to his editors. He explains his dependence on reviewers, who he describes as overworked to publicize his books. When they do so, he feels they are not as thorough as they could be (¶3). Cody’s experiences are confirmed as valid criticism. In the matter of authors’ dependence on reviewers for publicity, one book editor, Ron Charles reveals the politics of the situation. Since 1933, the trade journal Kirkus is perhaps the leading among the many periodicals that are employed to review and recommend potential manuscripts for publication (¶1). Kirkus in essence is the arbiter of whether a novel passes muster to be published. Lately the process of Kirkus reviews has become corrupted. In 2004 Kirkus’s parent company VNU Business Publications initiated two newspapers online. One, Kirkus Discoveries, according to Charles, “will allow self-published authors, long ignored by trade journals, to buy a Kirkus review for $350” (¶4-5). The other, Kirkus Reports, highlights the best “lifestyle books (health, parenting, personal finance).” But publishers must pay $95 per title to be included (¶6). This is tantamount to naked bribery. The projected result of these business practices is that publication will no longer be decided by quality. Honest authors like Paul Cody will lose out to those with the right cash to throw around to the right people. This is globalization in a nutshell.

Another cost of the global capitalist world on the book industry is the evolution of technology. Technological innovation is one of the high stages of globalization. Intercontinental borders between communication are now transparent. Communication is now global and so is electronic entertainment. Books now compete with newer, more advanced means of entertainment to capture the leisure time of people. As Paul Cody observes, “we have raised a largely visual generation—movies, computer games, DVDs, etc., and nobody’s read Faulkner” (¶1). The printed word as the older generation knows it is now being revolutionized. The advent of digitized books—e-books, is gaining in popularity (Campbell, ¶4). In an editorial, John N. Berry III, editor-in-chief of the Library Journal offers his vision of a future of literature dominated by digital books. He pictures a world where hard-copy books are practically obsolete. He imagines a machine that can literally scan and download old books onto his personal computer: “My plan now is to digitize our books, our home library. First, I’ll put the cookbook collection into the database, then all my history and politics—in fact all of the nonfiction and reference books. Finally, I’ll digitize all of the fiction: novels and volumes of poetry and movies.” He jokingly remarks that “our toughest problem has been deciding what we’ll buy to replace all our bookcases.” His piece is filled with facetious comments like this, always referring to those “damned books” (10). But the danger of the printed word actually becoming obsolete is no laughing matter. In order for their work to survive authors are forced to play right along with the demands of commercialization. Authors like Brett Easton Ellis have taken to incorporating product placement into their stories, with characters wearing Armani suits and drinking Coke (Campbell, ¶17). This can be seen as a sign of desperation.

With authors of fiction turning more to digitization the void left in the industry of publishing hard-copy books is being filled by books of political and religious themes. The past few years have seen an abundance of political commentary books by popular conservative personalities like Michael Savage of talk radio, or books on business by moguls like Donald Trump, or religious guidebooks by evangelicals like the Reverend Louis B. Sheldon (Schlump, S11). As Paul Cody sees it, the majority of people’s chosen reading material is related to practicality, not intellect: “People buy books, but they buy non-literary books—how to lose weight, anxiety, invest in the stock market…” (¶2). The apparent resurgence of religion in society has affected all kinds of pop culture including works of fiction. In addition to more and more novels being published with biblical themes in their stories, people are beginning to return to older classics to rediscover what references to the bible can be interpreted. Several libraries have taken to adding a “Christian fiction” section to accompany “science fiction” and “mystery.” These libraries are being systematically pressured by evangelical interests to concentrate their inventories to books deemed suitable to pass the religious litmus test and screen out and exclude those that do not pass (Ralph, 50). At the time of this writing, December 2005, with the release of the new film version of C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to cinema, religious groups have been exploiting the returning popularity of Lewis’s “Narnia” books. They note the series’ many biblical analogies and allusions, such as the comparison between the lion Aslan and Jesus Christ. Sales of the books and related merchandise are skyrocketing (Prichard, ¶1-3). Theologians are bickering over what denomination Lewis intended his books to appeal to. Liberal theologians claim he advocated the humanitarian, social-justice oriented brand of Christianity, while conservative theologians believe he adhered to the evangelical model (MacDonald, ¶1-15). Publishers have admitted it is strictly for reasons of business that they follow the market demands for political and religious works (Schlump, S11). Naturally they cannot be faulted for making pragmatic business decisions although it is quite discouraging. Paul Cody is skeptical of the intentions of the religious crowd, writing that they strike him as the repressive book-burning type (¶6). The thought of a movement for book-burning gaining strength in America is certainly terrifying.

Coming back to the issue of commercialization impinging on the industry of literary fiction, it is not surprising that many authors find themselves in a situation where principles conflict with pragmatism. In an ideal world where a majority of Americans read fiction and authors do not have to struggle to be published, authors may afford the luxury of standing by anti-commercial principles. In this day and age with the market being the way it is authors do not often have the luxury of those principles. It is advised that one should not attempt to pick and choose what advertisers they would accept to promote their work. Such a situation was the case with the author I met in Chinatown, Jonathan Franzen. Shortly after our encounter Mr. Franzen found himself in a bit of controversy. Upon the publication of his latest hit novel The Corrections, the famous talk show host Oprah Winfrey decided to add the book to her prestigious book club. Franzen, declined, and incidentally made some comments seen as disparaging the commercialism of Oprah’s book club. In his words he did not want “a logo of corporate ownership” to his work. His decision and his words drew fire as being an elitist and a snob (Oldenburg, ¶1-16). It has been pointed out that a great deal of authors who have appeared on Oprah’s list, particularly Toni Morrison have pointed to it as having been the great boon to their careers (Bernard, ¶7). The question is, how should Franzen’s actions be judged. Were they based on principle or elitism? What is known is that despite whatever aversion some authors may have toward commercialization, the fact is Oprah has proven to be very inspirational and her endorsement carries a lot of weight. For James Frey’s novel A Million Little Pieces, her endorsement earned him 85,000 copies sold by her fans (Green, 46). Under these circumstances it would seem that embracing Oprah’s endorsement would be the prudent thing to do for an author.

The fact is, writing in a commercialized world may be discouraging for many authors, but the changes of time are beyond the individual’s control. When one’s livelihood is at stake he must accept the reality of globalization for better or for worse. Franzen, of course is a successful novelist, in his case he did not have much to lose by taking the stand he did. An author with less success would not be as lucky. All the evidence cited in this essay points to the fact that the market for fictional literature has indeed declined, but if anything a declining market makes for a greater need among authors to accept any avenue of publicity available to them. The hardships of gaining publication affirm this conviction. As for this writer personally, I do not allow such a grim outlook to discourage my goal of becoming a great fiction writer. A true novelist will write because of his passion, not markets and politics.

Works Cited

Bernard, Sarah. “Jonathan Franzen’s Story of O.” New York 5 October 2001. 9 December 2005

Berry III, John N. “Living with Books.” Library Journal 130.18 (2005): 10-10.

Campbell, Kim. “Death of Literature? Not Just Yet.” Christian Science Monitor 20 September 2001.

Charles, Ron. “Will Authors Get Honest Review for $350?” Christian Science Monitor 27 September 2004.

Cody, Paul. “Re: fiction questions.” E-mail to Joseph Lehman. 10 December 2005.

Green, Hardy. “Why Oprah Opens Readers’ Wallets.” Business Week 10 October 2005: 46-46.

MacDonald, G. Jeffrey. “Christians Battle Over ‘Narnia.’” Christian Science Monitor 8 December 2005.

Oldenburg, Ann. “Franzen Says He Feels ‘Awful’ About Feud.” USA Today 25 October 2001.

Ralph, Peter and James LaRue. “Christian Fiction Labels: Help or Hindrance?” American Libraries 36.11 (2005): 50-51.

Prichard, James. “Christian Stores Capitalize on ‘Narnia.’” Associated Press 9 December 2005.

Schlump, Heidi. “Pinning Their Fates to Pop Culture and Politics.” Publishers Weekly 29 August 2005: S11-S12.

Zeitchik, Steven. “The Potter Effect.” Publishers Weekly 11 July 2005: 12-13.

Exposition pt. 1

As I believe I have mentioned previously, I mean to take as much time between entries to insert enough exposition about who I am personally, in order to gain greater familiarity with my readers.

I started this blog several months ago, while in Stockholm, on one of my backpacking trips. I’d been contemplating doing so for a good long while, trying to find the right motivation to bring the plan to fruition. From now on, I won’t simply be posting my essays on Facebook. Perhaps now, I’ll have a closer chance at gaining the exposure I desire for my writing.

I have considered myself a “traveling man,” not unlike the Ricky Nelson song of the same title. I have adopted this moniker for a long time, now.

If I could sum up the purpose of this blog, it is a means to extol my views and commentary, during my travels afar, and from my station in upstate NY.

Let me start with the basics of my background.

I was born, July 24, 1983. I grew up in Ithaca, NY. My parents split when I was Eight years old.

I received my diploma from Ithaca High School in 2002.

I am an alumnus of Franklin Pierce College, (which is now Franklin Pierce University), located in Rindge, NH. I graduated in 2006, but spent one more semester there after that in order to complete my dual major.

I selected Franklin Pierce as my school of choice because I felt it met my specific needs, emotional and mental, as well as academic.

In all the forms my depressive and obsessive behavior has taken, one common characteristic is my constantly distorted thought process. It has always been under the influence of extreme Highs and Lows. Because of this, I prefer enclosed environments where everyone exists in a small community, and every point of destination is in walking distance. My mind has great difficulty performing tasks that involve certain cognitive skill. Suffice to say I do not drive.

Backpacking is a tremendous challenge for any young person to embark upon, but it is an even more tremendous challenge when you have suffered physical disability and mental illness for most of your life. I have.

As an obsessive compulsive (with possible bipolar attributes) I am a person who generally desires controlled environments. Needless to say, travelling the world is about as uncontrolled as you can get. So when I do travel, I create automatic zones of familiarity and comfort. Mind you, I don’t mean zones with the same shelter as say, the Coalition-occupied Green Zone in Iraq, but you get the idea.

Back to my college days: The FPC campus met all my needs and expectations of control. And I was fortunate enough to have a faculty on hand that gave me the individual attention I sought.

In a way, that fact qualifies as both positive and negative. Positive in that it sustained an environment, which encouraged my study habits perfectly. But negative in that it fostered an environment that supported and fueled my obsessive behavior.

The irony was that I never saw my behavior as obsessive, and if I ever had an inkling so, I never considered it to be a negative thing, because the patterns that I fell into, ultimately worked well for me, academically.

Let me put obsessive behavior into a milieu. buzzle.com has this to say about it:

Obsessive Thinking Patterns

Simply put, obsessive thinking is a personality disorder, wherein people are stuck in a vicious cycle of repeating their behavior due to obsessive thoughts. If a person suffers from obsessive thinking disorder, then he/she would have stressful fears and compulsions. These compulsions are a means of making these obsessive thoughts go away and function as temporary relief. These compulsions can take up a lot lot of time, thus interfering with their normal routine.

Obsessive thinking and anxiety, according to several studies, are a result of a combination of factors, both biological and environmental. There have also been studies to suggest that the lack of serotonin, a neurotransmitter, maybe the cause of obsessive thinking disorder. Obsessive thinking in children and adults can also be a result of chronic usage of drugs or traumatic head injuries. Stress, loss of a loved, one etc., can also cause this disorder. Obsessive thinking and relationships also have a strong connection, as emotional, physical or sexual matters can cause an onset of this disorder.

In short, I fit some, but not all of these characteristics. Especially, feelings of self-loathing, and long bouts of depression. What I know for certain is that I have followed obsessive thought patterns since childhood, but they accelerated to the tenth degree in college.

Backpacking Misunderstood

I have, in a previously unpublished essay written this:

I’d backpacked in Australia for most of Year 25 (2008-2009). I’d opened myself to many cultural and aesthetic experiences that I’d never had, unlike any I’d had as a student.

The time was largely one of self-indulgence. In my opinion, backpacking is the ultimate experience of escape from the confines of the responsibilities of adulthood, a brief moment of prolonged adolescence. Take a handful of travelers, harking from different countries, most of who are in their early-to-mid 20’s, put them all together by communal situation in hostels scattered in every city, working odd jobs, wearing clothes inside out so as to save money on laundry, pooling funds together to cook simple meals-ready-to-eat in the kitchenette, depending on each other for friendship and casual romance, spending nights partying on the balcony. It is essentially, a co-dependent environment, a community-by-chance. I had realized a dream and reclaimed the essence of my youth.

Backpacking to me, is more than a lifestyle, it is a form of an unplanned community.



Later, I expanded on these thoughts:

In Europe and Australia I’ve felt more accepted in my chosen wandering, at least while I am still in my 20s. Back home in the United States I feel as though there is some stigma to it. At my last appointment with my head shrink, he spent 45 minutes lecturing me about taking responsibility, moving ahead with what I want to do with my life, and other clichés. Another irony in that while my family and friends are supportive of my choices, I seem to find the least support from my doctor.

I recall a scene in Pulp Fiction, where the John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson characters are having an argument over the virtue of Jackson’s proposed living as a nomad. Travolta says it’s the textbook definition of being a bum. Jackson, in his defense, calls it “walking the earth.”




The attitude that I call the backpacking stigma could not be more pervasive as it is in a subtle appearance in the media. As an American, I feel that I have crossed the Rubicon.

Dateline, It’s September 2010, I’ve newly turned 27, and Tim and I are continuing our conversation on the streets of Utrecht.

Tim and I discussed the ongoing case (or saga) of Joran Van der Sloot, the young Dutchman long-suspected in the disappearance of Alabama High School Senior Natalee Holloway in Aruba, in 2005. Van der sloot had just reemerged in the headlines in June, under arrest in Lima, as the alleged murderer of Peruvian girl Stefany Flores. The killing occurred five years to the day of Holloway’s vanishing.

I mentioned that I had been listening to a lot of chatter about the case among American media commentators. It seemed as though they were bearing as much scrutiny to the fact of Van Der Sloot’s spending the last few years traveling the world, as they were to the alleged murders themselves.

Take the incipid Nancy Grace, for example. It is quite obvious she doesn't understand the first clue about the backpacking culture.

GRACE: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on! What was he doing in Peru? Why was he there? Why doesn`t he have a job? Why isn`t he in school? Why isn`t he doing anything constructive? All I got from you just then was he likes to be at casinos and resorts. But what`s he doing there? Is he there for a job interview? What is he doing out in the wee hours of the morning on a Sunday night? What time was it? And why was he in Peru, Rafael? Do we even know?


Tim didn’t agree with my assessment. It is naive to claim that he is just being condemned for traveling. After all, he reasoned, look what he’s done while traveling—gambling binges and trafficking in Thai girls tobe used as sex workers. That’s the real lifestyle he’s led. He is being judged, solely on the merits of his being a fuck-up and a murderer.

Still, I told him, I wasn’t denying that the responsibility for his allegedly murdering two girls rests on him, alone. The fact remains that the rhetoric of American commentators seems to possess a subtle dig at what they misunderstand, or are genuinely ignorant about the youthful traveling lifestyle that is widely associated with Europe and Australia.

To be continued…

Musings from Holland to Ithaca

Sedentary life at home in Ithaca has effectively debilitated my writing for the past several months. So please bear with me as I take baby steps toward getting my groove back.

As I explained in my previous entry: Being perfectly honest in my writings opens a can of warms, and that is the fact of all the gaps there are in my entries. I hate to have to figure out reasons to explain the unexplained absences. In many instances in my life, I am plagued by lousy personal experiences—traumatic encounters involving interpersonal relationships that have soured. These events often cause me to wind up in an emotional tailspin, which is pretty, much the situation I have been in for the past several months, as of this writing.

With three months gone by, I struggle with the question of how to explain what has been going on in my life. It would normally be easy for me to gloss over the gaps in my time that I rather not leave for public consumption, but it makes things even more dicey when I point to individual traumatic events that set the tone for all events subsequent. I am faced with the ethical dilemma. Should I explain the incidents that have been causing me such grief, or should I just paint over them. Is that considered lying, or just being rightfully selective? After all, I am not a public figure. I am entitled to fashion my history, as I most comfortably see fit.

The questions plays over in my head: Am I lying, or not?

I posted this line on my Facebook status update, the other day, in order to see eho might bite:

The problem with having such a strong code of ethics is that it limits my ability to be self-protective.

To which a friend replied, Nonsense.

I pressed ahead: Would you agree, though, that being ethically disinclined to lie only makes it harder to gloss or skip over the negative details of one's life?

My friend expounded: “Joe, I agree "that being ethically disinclined to lie only makes it harder to gloss or skip over the negative details of one's life." It also makes it harder to gloss over the negative details of one's SELF - and once you understand THAT, I would say you have a much clearer idea of the need to be, and how to be, self-protective. Any characteristic can be used to keep us stuck, or to move us forward. All depends on how you look at it and use it.”

I continued explaining my dilemma: The thing is, I am trying to write more to my blog. It remains tough to contribute more to it, without revealing the negative events that have happened recently, which have so significantly impacted my present situation. I worry that if I omit those details it would come off as dishonest, which is against my ethical code. I have been reading that Sissela Bok* book that you recommended to be and it has been very influential.

*Sissela Bok is the writer of the venerable philosophy book known as Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life

My friend had this answer for me: I'm glad you're finding Bok useful. It's been so long since I've looked at it that I don't remember it well. But when you're writing for public consumption, no holds barred is not always the best tactic. Because honesty comes into conflict with kindness, privacy and many other values. As well as, as you noted, self-protection. This (to my mind, anyway) is what shrinks are for - that's where, ideally, one can be completely honest. And why fiction can be a good tactic, if one is so inclined. Also, I think sometimes we can be more honest by being circumspect. These are not new dilemmas, obviously. And privacy matters, though these days you'd be hard put to find anyone to agree with that. Emotional self-protection is an art, and a duty we do indeed have to ourselves. The trick is to do it without completely closing ourselves off or being horrible to others. You can contribute to your blog, even about things that are very personal, by talking about the *problem posed* by a particular event, rather than the event itself. Bok's book wasn't created in a vacuum. She watched herself and others before talking about lying. But the book is not a personal telling of things she did or were done to her. Does that mean she's lying? Of course not. I think the trick in growing up (which we do our whole lives) is, at least in part, teasing out what should be public and what should be private. Keeping things private doesn't by definition mean you're being dishonest.

I leave you, the reader with these thoughts. Does this advice serve me well? I’ll leave that up in the air, but I am tired now. Off to bed and till morning.

Musings in Holland, Part III

Tim has effectively brought me to ask the questions I have avoided for so long. Am I such an emotionally needy person, that the prospect of negative criticism is one that I truly can’t come to face with? Do I really want to please everyone?

I consider Tim's words: “the audience doesn't want to hear what you think they want to hear, but your actual thoughts and that some would agree with what you write and that others have a different standing, but that they would still want to hear your point of view anyway [something like that].”

It certainly makes a great deal of sense. Essentially, I should write what comes to my mind and have faith that the audience will approve or disapprove, in its own wisdom.

These days, though, I just can't buy the concept of simply letting myself report "as is", and having total faith that the audience, in its interpretations will not judge me too harshly. Especially when I am overwhelmed with the fiscal questions raised by Jonathan Franzen's elitism. But my psychological need to "please everyone"—as Tim put it so succinctly, is itself a fiscal question. After all, I can't just expect to go the route where I express myself absolutely freely, having little or no regard to the needs and the interests of the audience. All writers are playing to an audience. Art is a vocation and a business. To romanticize being a starving audience is foolish.

Then the question rings into my ears once more:

"Do you want to please everyone?"

It raises another issue. Being perfectly honest in my writings opens a can of warms, and that is the fact of all the gaps there are in my entires. I hate to have to figure out reasons to explain the unexplained absences. In many instances in my life, I am plagued by lousy personal experiences—traumatic encounters involving interpersonal relationships that have soured. These events often cause me to wind up in an emotional tailspin, which is pretty much the situation I have been in for the past several months, as of this writing.

I have to credit Tim. His socratic questioning has been keeping me honest.

Musings in Holland, Part II

“Do you want to please everyone?”

Do I want to please everyone?

These were Tim’s words to me as we were walking toward the station to take the train back to Woerden.

The topic of the moment, of course, questions over my style of writing. I had made the case to Tim that I believe that an author has to be circumspect about the style of writing he chooses so as to remain on his audience’s desired side. The writer therefore, cannot allow himself to be too honest and outright with his opinions (especially the most outrageous opinions) so as to avoid alienating his audience. In short, I believe that some degree of equivocation is the key to being a most successful writer.

This is not to say that as a writer, I am someone to take the path of least resistance. On the contrary, I often enjoy pushing the envelop of good and bad taste. It is merely a matter of my psychological disposition that fears alienating people and driving them away, and I simply do not wish to be the writer who puts all his focus on what he finds acceptable to the audience of his own mind. I am a realist. I know that in today’s market, there is the reality of maintaining repeat readership to consider. Psychologically, I have always feared abandonment. (This is an issue for another post, of course). Like many people with self-identity issues, I rely on the approval of others to define and strengthen my identity.

Basically, the two main considerations I have as a writer are in the business sense and in the egoistic sense.

My business sense tells me that it is not economically prudent for a writer to write as he pleases without any consent for the values and the intellectual limits of the audience he intends to sell to.

One only consider the case of Jonathan Franzen, when he rejected his novel The Corrections to appear on Oprah’s book club some years back.

Franzen received the most scathing criticism, the charge of elitism:

The author Jonathan Franzen's recent standoff with literary televangelist Oprah Winfrey has brought the nation's literati out in force. Franzen's earlier remarks, particularly those on National Public Radio, earned him the distinction of being the first writer uninvited to Ms. Winfrey's wildly popular daytime show. Having gone on record as considering a few of Oprah's book club choices "schmaltzy," and having expressed certain misgivings about seeing his acclaimed novel festooned with Oprah's Book Club coat-of-arms, Franzen found himself unceremoniously dumped from the show's upcoming roster.

Franzen's effusive apologies for what the New York Times referred to as his "Oprah Gaffe" were apparently deemed too little too late by Ms. Winfrey and her defenders. Laura Miller in a piece on the debacle for Salon echoes the most prominent anti-Franzen charge -- elitism. "Film buffs got over this stuff years ago; thanks to critics like Pauline Kael, it's possible to like Bergman without having to badmouth the Farrelly Brothers. In fact, it's entirely possible to enjoy both."

Miller further disparages Franzen for "lacking nerve" -- not the nerve to stick to his own literary opinions, mind you, but the nerve to make his peace with the status quo -- the nerve to trust, above all else, the infallible intuition of the market.

Others were far more aggressive in their attack. An October 30th Times editorial by Verlyn Klinkenborg insists "lurking behind Mr. Franzen's rejection of Ms. Winfrey is an elemental distrust of readers, except for the ones he designates."

Andre Dubos III concurs: "It is so elitist it offends me deeply. The assumption that high art is not for the masses, that they won't understand it and they don't deserve it -- I find that reprehensible. Is that a judgment on the audience? Or on the books in whose company he would be?"

Many letters to the editor brought others onboard to assault Franzen for unpardonable brattiness. G.K. Darby, president of Garrett County Press writes: "If Mr. Franzen wants to be the gadfly he thinks he is, he is welcome to join the underground publishing community and write profane, true and experimental stories that have no chance of making a dime." It seems the coveting of rockstar popularity has become as basic to what it is to write as spell checking and editing drafts.

What conclusions may we draw regarding a culture in which the most celebrated new author in America is publicly chastised for failing to be appropriately deferential to a pant-suited media icon?

A conclusion I drew from reading this: These days, I just can’t buy the concept of simply letting myself report my naked feelings as they come, without finding a way to qualify them, so as to remain within the parameters of my success. The case of Jonathan Franzen (whom I have has the pleasure of meeting on the street corner in New York’s Chinatown back in 2001, shortly before this whole brouhaha began) serves as a reminder that in today’s market for writers, fiscal questions are all the more important to be raised. I felt that i had to tailor everything I write so that it doesn't alienate the audience. This was my business sense speaking. My egoistic side side was telling me something else. As Monica Fink writes:

The foundation for fear of abandonment can be set in childhood, but will not manifest until the individual is on his or her own in the world, no longer supported in any way by adults or parents.

Hearn continues to describe fear of abandonment as, “Deep down all of us want to be grown up, balanced and mature; we just don’t know how and are sometimes scared.”

With this in mind, he suggests that fear of abandonment can be treated with therapy, as long as the individual suffering from the fear of abandonment is willing to use the therapist as a pillar to lean against while learning to be self-sufficient. Of course, an individual cannot get help for fear of abandonment without knowing the symptoms of this mental disorder.

I do have abandonment issues. That so much is very true. Fink is right on the money when she suggests they stem from childhood trauma. And it is a major factor that plays into my writing.

I seriously fear alienating any readers. So I walk on a tightrope. I am fully aware of the public's desire for material that pushes the envelope, as they have little threshold for boredom. At the same time, though, I know that an audience has limited patience for any material that veers too far out of the boundaries of what is politically correct.

Tim was in disagreement with me about that. In his words: “the audience doesn't want to hear what you think they want to hear, but your actual thoughts and that some would agree with what you write and that others have a different standing, but that they would still want to hear your point of view anyway."

Tim's input is indeed food for thought. I must sleep on it once more before I tackle it in the next post.



(Bottom two photos are actually taken in Rotterdam, not Utrecht).