Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Death of Myspace Inspires Turtles Everywhere


Recently the social networking site Myspace gave up the competitive ghost, and rose out of the ashes with a new musically oriented purpose, providing a worldwide gateway for up and coming music groups. The founding concept behind Myspace reminds me of an essay by an intelligently wordy French philosopher named Michel de Certeau. In his article “The Practice of Everyday Life” de Certeau defines the tension between place and space with the presence of action. He claims that people transform a dead place into a live space by acting within the designated boundaries that define the two. Think of my bedroom before I moved in, the blank walls, empty closet, and general cleanliness. This is the definition of place, the walls are boundaries, there is a map of it somewhere, and the room exists regardless if I live there or not. To make it my space I hung a few posters of The Black Keys, put my Atlanta Braves sheets on the bed, and left Crunch wrappers all over the floor. My actions have transformed this place into my space.

Being a college student means that my place is exceptionally small. Everything I own fits into an area of 50 square feet. De Certeau argues that space is place-dependent, or that space can only exist within a designated place. Here’s an example: my family descends from a long line of Swedish dirt farmers who handed the farm from one son to the next. They stayed in the same small town in Southern Sweden for almost five generations. I’ve seen the farm, and stayed there for a week when I was twelve. My father and I worked the land, we saw the hand-built stone fences, and ate the cheese made from the cow’s milk. The family farm has been preserved as both our family place and our family space. Following this line of thought, and de Certeau’s argument, my space would be slightly smaller than 15 square feet, but it’s not. I have moved 16 times in the last 5 years, meaning that I am, in every sense of the word, displaced, but I am not dis-spaced. Times have changed, and the farm isn’t handed down from son to son anymore; and the concept represented by an individual’s space has changed over the fifty years since de Certeau issued his claim. The internet has allowed people to connect their space wirelessly to every place where they find themselves.

For example, my blog is defined as a digital place. It has an address on the blogspot network, where I started with a blank template. Given time I’ve modified the template, changed the colors, put up essays, embedded music videos, essentially creating my digital space; a space that I can access from any place, at almost any time. My iPod also represents a mobile space that I have created, with the ability to create a space of any temporary place through which I pass.

Enter the death and rebirth of Myspace. The digital frontier has allowed us to expand our space, and nourish its mobility. With every advance along the frontier we become more like a turtle, carrying our space on our backs, moving from place to place. Turtles move slowly because where they are is the place where they need to be. Their space follows them, transforming temporary places into spaces under their feet. The connectivity of our space makes us all turtles. Like the shell, we use our space for comfort, protection and shelter. It provides a cushion in our interaction with other spaces. We represent it with brand names, with clothing styles, the music emanating from it, and the people we invite to enter or leave it.


Personally I spend hours every day maintaining and grooming my space. I decorate it with colors, or share it when I put an ad in the paper that says, “Brown-haired male with taste for The Black Keys seeks like-minded female.” The creators of Myspace understood the concept of interacting spaces, so they created a site that encouraged opportunities to explore other spaces on an unprecedented scale, and with minimum effort. They took the business of everyday life to the digital frontier, and mobilized space for the displaced like myself.
As the mobility of our spaces has increased we are entering an age when we work for the opposite of what de Certeau asserted; we manage our space in order to obtain a place. Recently I’ve started my applications for law school. Each law school has a number of seats, or places, available to those willing to brave the competition. The goal is to make your space unique enough that it warrants you a place in the school. To this end I’ve started a creative nonfiction blog, provided community service on vast fronts and taken a variety of college courses to round out my academic representation. The application process exists to invite the application board into your space, where they will make a judgment as to your priority placement in the school. Once accepted and enrolled you start school by mixing your space with those of other students in a newly designated place for the next three years.

This business of newly designated place is as old as Adam and Eve. Whenever a couple marries they merge their spaces and create the family space. We can extrapolate this to a national level with the Constitution is a document largely regulating space on an individual, state and federal level, and international level with hundreds of nations fighting to protect their space against those who would impose another form of space. Movies and television reveal the possibilities included with expanding our space into the galaxy, where space becomes a concept beyond our finite comprehension.

What does all this mean to my space? I’m just a college kid with 50 square feet of rented place, and dreams of larger possibilities. It means that what I thought I was designing, defining and maintaining is actually shaping me and how the world defines me as an individual. My place in the world depends on how I use my space to represent who I am and what I intend to do with more of it. With that thought in mind do I change how I represent my space? I could start with a six-pack and biceps, or brand name clothing, or maybe the right pair of eye-glasses. I realize now that I won’t do any of that. I’m even tempted to delete my facebook account because it distracts me from exploring my own space. It dawns on my now that by knowing my own space, I’ll find the place I’m looking for. Where I am now is where I need to be, just like the other turtles.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

What Separates Us From the Aliens

Everybody has their theory explaining why Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back is the greatest space movie ever. I like my hypothesis best, mainly that the aliens wear clothes. There is a disturbing trend among alien movies that has invading aliens attacking earth in the buff, for all the universe to gawk at. Yes, this is the ultimate insult to a potential victim of your warring society, "We're so confident that we'll conquer your little planet that we don't worry about armor, let alone clothing." Is there some running alien bet to see who can be the first civilization to successfully conquer earth while naked?



Worse is the knowledge that in the future mankind resorts to some universally accepted and approved onesie spandex suit, usually made of a space-age shiny gray material. Here we are on earth walking around in hip-hugging space blankets, fighting the naked aliens. Of course, Al Gore invents the space suit, which he knows we need on account of the global warming issue.

What really separates us from the aliens is our ability to wear a pair of pants. Think about it. The spandex suit spells defeat. Pants spell freedom. Freedom to wear what we like, how we like and at what cost we like. The best of all pants are blue jeans.

Blue jeans as we know them originally came out of the mining camps of California, right around the year 1849. Levi Strauss gave them rivets, which strengthened them so that the miners could work all day in the rivers, in tough work pants that were also comfortable. They're weren't universally accepted as casual wear until about the '70s. This is mostly due to the fact that James Dean wore them in Rebel Without a Cause, inspiring the youth of the '60s to rebel against society and wear blue jeans. My old man says their jeans used to be banned from schools and theaters for representing the rebellious spirit.

Now days we have every kind of blue jean imaginable. They all serve relatively the same purpose, but everybody has their own style. Take skaters, for example. Back in my day skaters wore their jeans baggy and low for a very simple purpose. When you have a board flying every which way there are occasionally times when it hits a very private and sacred body part. The bagginess protects and cushions against such life-threatening blows. This is another reason why the trend of skinny jeans is disturbing among today's modern skateboarders.

Cowboys and trendy girls like to wear their jeans as tight as possible. They battle their jeans on every morning, something I could never do. Most girls and some scary boys know all the brands and types. There are different washes, cuts and stitching patterns, all representing something about the legs that wear them. I don't really know any of this, mind you, but I've heard rumors the differences exist. My girlfriend knows which jeans to wear to make your butt look good, or to show off your legs. She knows the stitching, the prices of the stitchings, and what stitchings say you didn't pay a very high price to have your jeans sewn together. Some people don't want to pay the price for the stitching so they will gamble 6-8 months in orange polyester prison pants against the small odds of successfully thieving them from Nordstrom, or like-minded stores. My dad hates these people.

Me, I wear mine a little low. Ok, a lot low. Pretty, really low. I take some heat for it, but I'm not inclined to change. Unlike Mike, the levi jeans guy, I'm not out to make the world notice my butt. That is my prerogative, and I will separate myself from the aliens by taking advantage of it. I don't know what the stitching on my butt pockets says, but I know they are some comfortable pants. I could sleep in my jeans and not miss a beat. Sometimes I run in jeans, other times I sit in my jeans. They are very durable. Thank you Mr Strauss, you riveted my pants so I don't have to buy more for a long time. I even wear my pants as intended. See Strauss and company marketed them to be worn as a sort of waist overalls without straps, a.k.a. loose and low. Let the aliens look and be jealous.

When the day comes that the spandex suit is voted into being I will resist all day and night to keep my pants. Everybody wearing the same suit won't scare away the naked aliens. What the aliens really want is our pants. Pure and simple. They are the best for symbolizing rebellion against conformity. That's why everybody has them. That's why aliens want them. A pants-wearing rebellion will always trump a pant-less invasion.

So pay more attention to your pants. Thank them for your freedom, and the way they express it so willingly.

A Welcome from the Chair

Hello. Welcome to what might be your first introduction to the deep underworkings of the very Max you know and most-likely love. This blog is meant to be a place where I post essays that have to do with naked aliens, the myths of sleeping in a bed, or maybe even what its like to have a super sense of smell. I will only make you one promise, and will do my very best to keep it. Here it is. I promise you that the more you think about what I write, the more it will unfold and you will understand it better with time. Like Novocaine, you have to let it work on you for a while.

The title has been several months in the making. It comes from an Incubus song called "Pistola" and I'll quote a little of it for you know.

On the tip of my tongue
an offense is poised and rearing
My intention a bullet
and my body a trigger finger

Yeah my pen is a pistola...

My secret arsenal
is an infinite ageless inkwell
Its a fountain of youth
and a patriot's weapon of choice


There you have it. Awesome. Sweet. Exciting. Feel free to comment, but please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.