-RP, Berkeley
Ty: Rickey Powell, good question and an even better observation. Here's your set-up, people: I got in etouch with an old friend whom I haven't chatted with in a long time; probably a year. I mean, it's October, after all. I'm all Ray Smuckles in October. It's the season and shit. So, I want to see how the folks are. Let's call my friend, "Billy."
Well "Billy" tells me some stuff about what's going on--some really rough shit and some quite sweet living -- but then he throws in this bit:
"Work still sux. I've lost all motivation and inspiration. A little piece of my soul dies on a daily basis. I'm just your typical suburb dad now, settling into this-is-as-good-as-it-gets."Dang. Buzz kill. October-fucking-buzz-kill. This is hard for me to process so I bounce that little phrase off a friend of mine in the Cali-hood just to see how it hits him. We'll call that friend, Rich (to keep shit straight). So, "Rich" throws it back at me as an "Ask Ty." Shit, that brings me all back into the October mood. Thanks! Always finding a way to make the world into The Lifestyle Arts, that Rich. I owe him, among a few others, so much for promoting The Lifestyle Arts (TLA, suckas!). Anyone call ™ on that shit yet? If not, I call, "mines."
See? TLA in the house! Anyhow, the heart of the question:
"Is that just code for "I am and always have been a mope" or does something transformative happen to people that they become a "typical suburb dad now, settling into this-is-as-good-as-it-gets?""I know this guy, Billy. He's no mope though. I know a few guys, and they're not mopes but are in similar circumstances (whether they realize it or not). [But, wait Ty, we covered some of this previously [clicky], right? There's a degree of recursion....] While some of my friends may score low on the mope scale, maybe there's an insecurity creep in effect? Maybe this "transformation" of cool dude into "good-as-it-gets" suburban father happens over time; with added responsibilities (kids, mortgage, expectations, mortality) and perspective.
But what's brilliant is friend, "Billy," has expressed it. He knows what's happening. He may not be able to or even want to change things, he has come to terms with his present, at least. And that's healthy.
Dudes that haven't figure out their circumstances are fucking doomed. You see 'em all the time. Billy ain't doomed. No mope. But, does something happen? Yeah. Life happens. You have kids, you have to make some decisions. If you're lucky to be rich enough you can make some decisions. Like where are you going to send the little bastards to school where they will learn something and where they don't get their asses kicked every day. Drugs? Can't control for that...teach 'em some rules there.
OK, so you move to the suburbs so your kid doesn't get beaten everyday in a roach-filled classroom of dumbshit students and teachers (so much worse: the Teach 4 America kids). So now you have a $700,000 house. So, your job becomes more important and the job now has you extorted into compliance (no work-y, no house-y). So you probably have to play by some work rules because if you get fired you then have to move to the ghetto and your kids will get robbed every day and they'll end up pregnant, addicted, and stupid as hell by the age of 11.
In your new suburban cul-de-sac living you see that everybody is EXACTLY like you'd expect them to be: Dockers? Check! Belt? Check! Blackberry? Check! Lite Beer from Miller? Check! Minivan? Check! PTA? Check! Block party participant? Check! Looks like a goddamn magazine. Wisteria Court or some shit.
But, they ALL hate that shit. Who likes the work they do? Who likes to wear Dockers? Who likes bluetooth? Nobody. They all feel that this life sucks. But who's to complain?
When you are a fairly typical suburban dad this is as good as it gets. At least in terms of lifestyle. You are comfy with your big ass LCD TeeVee, you have a gas fucking grill! Good as it gets ain't so bad. Probably better than your parents. Sure, you're in debt up to your formally coked-out eyeballs, but life doesn't suck. You ain't digging coal. You ain't sweeping a goddamn thing except your deck on Saturdays.
So, it's not really a transformation. It's a reconciliation that, "this is my life now." Everything you've worked so hard for in school, grad school, night school, and at work has given you everything you've ever wanted. SUV? Check! Golf clubs? Check! Pool membership? Check! You're bored as hell, and "A little piece of my soul dies on a daily basis." But, only the pieces of your soul that deserve death. The poet is still alive. The writer is just out of practice. No, you're never gonna play in the NHL, but you are still the fuck you, dumbasses.
You've just become your father and you're terrified! You look in the mirror and you hate yourself for giving up illustration lessons or selling your darkroom equipment. You remember that shit that kept you alive. You had promise, man. You're your parents now and you remembered how you resented them for fucking squandering their lives away with their oh-so-important work when they could have been doing cool shit with you like skateboarding (daddy, teach me how to ollie). You remember them saying, "If you don't do well in school, you'll have nothing!" Uh, well look at me now, huh? Gee, 3,000 sq. ft. of nothing. A wife that don't fuck me no more, and/but smart (and smart kids) that I'm launching down the same miserable path. Hopefully one can play football and the other can act or something Exciting.
And the insecurity score soars! Wiping your low mope scores off the chart.
So, then Rich wrote the complimentary statement about me, "but you're not nor do you stand a chance at becoming a "typical suburb dad now, settling into this-is-as-good-as-it-gets."" Goddamn fucking right. And, for a variety of reasons:
1. Can you imagine? Just say no, Nancy.Whatever. Some mopes will always be mopes. As douchebags will be douchebags. It's just the way of the world. But, if you're not a mope, stop fucking acting like one. Get off your asses and make life fun. That goes for me too.
2. I don't have the direct middle class, American values modeling of this cycle of behaviors. I'm approaching the whole thing with a studied, artistic freshness that I hope to pass to my child (cynicism and all).
3. Work has, at worst, been a place for "money getting" and, at best, The Lifestyle Arts. A show. Everybody hates work, but I've always found something interesting about it (aside from the mind numbing boredom of typical corporate working) in its social organization. I also like hospital and airline food.
4. Art, introspection, reflection, production (making shit), and confronting some (but never all) realities has proven to be helpful. I have my problems, but I find the right places for most of 'em.
5. There's no such thing as this is "as good as it gets" -- that shit ain't true. If you think it is, go read Dr. Zhivago. If you think it is, paint something. If you think it is, listen to Funkadelic. If you think it is, make an album or take a picture. There's so much more to this.
Just a guess. - Ty
* - asterisk.
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