Environmentalism + optimism? Yes, really.

Environmental news usually comes in three flavors these days: bad, worse, and stupid (such as KFI-AM’s John and Ken’s grating denial of climate change). It’s gotten so that I reflexively turn away from mainstream environmental news – yes, I know it sounds bad, but it’s a human instinct to flee from the apocalypse.

Then I read an interview with Alex Steffen, creator of the “bright green” environmental group Worldchanging, in the April 2010 issue of The Sun magazine.

According to Steffen, we can stem the tide of environmental degradation - without regressing to a primitive, pre-technological lifestyle – by living in denser communities where nearly everything that people need (work, school, stores, etc.) is within walking or biking distance. A can-do attitude is key, he says:

Despair and cynicism are a large part of what’s preventing us from solving our problems. Among my more political friends, optimism is seen as something you have before you find out the truth. But I think choosing optimism says to your opponents, “I can see a better way of doing this.” We can rally people around a vision of a better future for ourselves and our grandkids and our great-grandkids.

What would you do if you were convinced that a situation is absolutely beyond your repair? Would you keep working to change it – or would you throw up your hands and say, “Why bother?”

Our precious Earth doesn’t need “why bother.” It needs solutions, and solutions only arise from minds that believe they exist. The dense communities (and “dense” does not mean overcrowded) that Steffen proposes will give people more time, more health, more freedom, and more hope.

I recommend that you read the whole interview. The Sun is not easy to find at newsstands (though I have seen it at the Borders in Tustin Legacy); you can order individual issues at its website.(And if you like what you read, why not subscribe?)

Revival theaters – Orange County (CA) needs them

If you are reading this blog and you have a revival theater in your town – by “revival” I mean one that

1. shows older movies, most often on a two-or-three-night basis,
2. plays so-called “midnight movies” on Friday and Saturday nights (see MM post of 6/17/09), and
3. has a colorful flyer that you can pick up near its box office,

then for the love of Rocky Horror, go there as often as you can!!!

If you are reading this blog and you have a revival theater in your town, do not forget how lucky you are. Think of people like your Meandering Mouse, who do not have such theaters within reasonable driving distance.

A revival theater is an asset to the community. Never mind that Netflix now allows people from Yuma, AZ to Washington, PA to see films like Cleo from 5 to 7 and The Seventh Seal. I enjoy home viewing as much as anyone, but the experience of sitting in a theater that has braved the ravages of time (for most revival theaters are of the vintage sort), on seats with threadbare velvet in all the right spots, looking to your left and to your right and feeling the comfort of being in a community that can appreciate and love films that are more than 30 years old (that means 1980, now) - you haven't lived until you've been there.

Once upon a time, I was lucky enough to live within walking distance (yeah!) of a really fab revival theater, the Fox Venice. At the Fox, I enjoyed a panorama of exotic films, from Allegro non Troppo to 200 Motels to The Exorcist to The Groove Tube. The other great part about the Fox was its daring concession stand – it’s where I tried a particularly tasty carob bar. (Raise your hand if you ever bought a carob bar at the concession stand.)

Unfortunately, the Fox Venice closed in 1988. The building still stands, but it’s now a swap meet, a repository of worthless things instead of worthwhile movies. (Sing along with me: “We don’t need another swap meet…”)



Photo of Fox Venice Swap Meet (formerly Theater) courtesy of Martin Schall.

Yes, Orange County does have theaters that play current independent and foreign films – thank you, Regency South Coast Village Theatre (Costa Mesa), Edwards University Town Center 6 (Irvine), and Edwards Westpark 8 (Irvine). But we have no revival theaters showing the good old films, no equivalent to Santa Monica’s Nuart Theater or Los Angeles’sAmerican Cinematheque.

I think that is neither fair nor square. I know I’m not the only one who would glow like a firefly if a revival theater came to be in OC.

It’s hard to imagine a revival theater in a multiplex. It should have one screen, or (at most) two. I considered the Lido Theater in Newport Beach and the South Coast Cinema in Laguna Beach as possible sites, but the drawback of both locations is the availability (or, more accurately, the lack thereof) of parking.

Here would be a great location for a revival theater:



Yes, I know that this property is already occupied by an institution called the Son Light Church. You will have to agree with me, though, that Orange County has enough churches (“We don’t need another church…”) and not nearly enough revival-worthy theaters. I want to live to see the day when this building is once again used for the purpose for which it was built, and in doing so raise both the IQ and the CQ (Cool Quotient) of the Orange Plaza.

What say you, Orange County? Where is the best spot for our revival paradise?

Let's not live in an "Idiocracy"

This week, Two Dogs and I watched the movie Idiocracy on DVD. It was directed and co-written by Mike Judge, the creator of "Beavis and Butt-Head" and "King of the Hill" (note: the next time you watch KOTH, notice that the characters have five fingers on each hand, not four. Just like real people.)

Without spoiling it too much, it shows what could eventually happen when crassness, grossness, and lack of craftsmanship overwhelm a culture. It's funny, but it is scary as well. Once you're finished watching it, you're going to want to read a good, complex book with real meat on its bones. And I'm not talking about this one:

Q: So why haven’t you been blogging lately, Jennie?

A: You know, that is an excellent question.

Q: That is far from an excellent answer. You only wrote one post in March. You ought to know that real bloggers post at least several times a week.

A: I am a real blogger. It’s still here, isn’t it?

Q: You’re being more evasive than a cat on bath day. Why haven’t you been sharing your wit with the fans lately?

A: I hope there are still fans out there! Please be patient, fans. I can explain my lack of posting thusly:

I have been looking for work and worrying about work. I have been thinking about money and worrying about money. I have been melancholic in this unusually cool and rainy California spring. I have been trying to “escape” from these problems through reading and watching movies and taking baths and walking (when weather and time permit), not to mention the usual errands such as grocery shopping, post office, laundromat, library, etc. Plus, taking care of Two Dogs.

None of the above really help me create new blog posts. But today, I have figured out what does: Finding a project and working on it.

Such as my “buzz piece”, as the authors of The Wealthy Freelancer suggest I create. (I just finished the book – excellent reading!) Or the personal website that is just about finished on Adobe Dreamweaver (don’t worry, I will announce when the site goes live). Or new business cards that match the design scheme of my buzz piece.

I believe that it takes awareness, and then action, to pull yourself out of a rut. Action without awareness usually ends up as just another trip to the grocery store. Awareness without action is just watching the wheels inside your head. Bring the two together, and good things start to happen. Just like now. Behold the new blog post!

Q: Finally.

A: I have been looking through old notebooks of mine. I plan to use some of the material in there to create new posts, as well as events that are happening in the here and now. So expect some great new posts this spring. Hey, I sound like a drive-in theater marketer, don’t I?

Q: That’s a great model.

A: And now, on with the show!

Having cool friends

About a week ago, I checked out Pamela Des Barres’s book Let’s Spend The Night Together. The subtitle is “Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies.”

It’s been happy reading so far. Back in the day, I thought it would be a smashing great time to be a groupie, wanted and desired by a phalanx of smoking hot rock gods. That dream will forever be in the past tense, though, for three reasons:

1. I no longer have the stamina nor the inclination to be up in the wee hours pursuing said rock gods;

2. The rock god is, most likely, an endangered species – can you name a musician who has become famous in the last ten years who has the magnetism of, say, Robert Plant? David Lee Roth? Mick Jagger, thick lips and all? I didn’t think so;

3. I have already found (and married!) my own rock god – he’s not famous yet, but he’s all mine and I will never stray.

The thought I will take away from this book has nothing to do with the names of the men whom the rock muses and supergroupies, um, “associated” with. It was the bond that Ms. Des Barres has with these women, many of them who have been her long-time friends. Even though most of them are no longer active in the scene, they still live freewheeling, out-of-the-ordinary lives, with a boatload of great memories.

Who wouldn’t want friends like Tura Satana, a 1950s burlesque dancer who taught Elvis how to French kiss? Or Cynthia Plaster Caster, who took an idea from an art class lecture and turned it into the ultimate in subversive art – namely, plaster molds of rock stars’ penises? Or Gail Zappa, the groupie who married her man (Frank), and will probably give mainstream relationship advisers a heart attack with this quote: “We didn’t talk about mortgages, ever.”? These women did what they wanted to do, and screw condemnation from the religious fundies and the professional feminists.

(There’s a big difference between feminism, which simply means women having the equal rights and opportunities to be what they want to be, and professional feminism, which has a list of new rules every bit as oppressive as the old ones. That’s a post for another day, though.)

I wish I had cool friends like that.

It has been hard for me to make and keep friends throughout my life. Shyness, bad treatment from peers (and the distrust it gave birth to), dedication to reading and schoolwork, and a natural tendency toward solitude have not helped. As of now, I have few friends except for husbands, ex-husbands, friends of the first two categories, and a few people that I know online but live far away (shout-out to Diana). I am happy with these dear friends, of course, but sometimes when I stop being busy and have time to think about it, I wish that I had more.

How do I define “cool friends”?

1. They are members of the creative class.

2. They have out-of-the-ordinary interests – such as intermission clips or collecting fortune cookie fortunes (two of my own interests).

3. They don’t watch much TV, unless it’s good (like Star Trek in all its forms – yes, even Enterprise).

4. They read books outside the best-seller list.

5. They know who Vanilla Fudge are.

6. They are fiscally responsible (yes, that is possible in the creative class).

7. They are free of destructive drama (as opposed to cool drama, such as painting the walls with glitter-infused magenta paint, or cross-dressing).

8. They make their dwellings cool no matter what their budget is.

9. They enjoy good food without guilt.

10. They have a love of life, and don’t try to drag anyone down with their political/religious/ideological agenda(s).

11. They love us, and we love them!!!

I could add more to the list, but it's getting late and I don't want to sound greedy.

I have heard the old adage, “To have a good friend, be one.” I hope that I follow the list above as much as I hope that my cool friends do. I guess I will have to make finding cool friends as much as a priority as finding work. Wish me luck!

And now, a few words about apology

…no, this is not me apologizing for not standing during the national anthem!

I don’t often write about popular news topics on this blog, for two excellent reasons:

1. Popular news tends to be boring and banal and base, and

2. You’re sick of hearing about it, too – that’s why you’re here instead of CNN/MSNBC/Huffington Post/your city newspaper site, isn’t it?

Today, I’m going to make an exception to this rule. I’m not going to wonder if you heard the Tiger Woods apology this morning – most of you have. The fact that an athlete apologizing for marital infidelity is considered a SPECIAL REPORT by CBS, NBC, and ABC – and more important than the man who flew his plane into an IRS building yesterday – says something about America, and it is not good.



What we saw was a professional golfer standing at a podium, looking like a kid waiting for the principal to see him, reading a pre-written statement that was heavy with the clichés that a flyover state sportswriter might reach for at 2 a.m. – “I have let down my fans,” “I convinced myself that normal rules didn't apply,” “Achievements on the golf course are only part of setting an example. Character and decency are what really count,” and so on.

Is Woods truly sorry? Is this another step in his rehab? Or is this just another one of those BS PR apologies that makes thinking people yawn? I do not know, and it doesn’t matter to me. But it did make me ponder the meaning of apology.

An apology is a gift – not an obligation. Tiger Woods does not owe the press or public an apology. I would go so far as to say that he doesn’t even owe it to his wife – the one person to whom this matters the most. He should apologize only

1. If his remorse is sincere, and

2. If he is going to stop the offending behavior.

Issue #2 is most important. Don’t waste your breath or my time with an apology if you’re going to keep on keepin’ on.

Suppose I was driving down the street, and from out of nowhere a pink paintgun pellet strikes one of my car doors. (This actually happened years ago.) If I had to choose between an apology and the money to repaint the door, I would choose the money. (In real life, I received neither, and the pink stain remained on my car to the day I traded it in.) Words are only words – it is action that counts. Please do what you can to alleviate the wrong.

We the public will not see, and should not see, whether or not Woods will change (unless he errs again in the same spectacular way.) I say let’s all keep an eye on ourselves and our behavior first, not a puffed-up SPECIAL REPORT. (Remember when SPECIAL REPORTS were actually special and announced events of world-shaking importance? But that’s another post for another day.)

Sit down for freedom

One of the gutsiest blogs I have read is Penelope Trunk’s Brazen Careerist. In between the practical, career-oriented posts are Ms. Trunk’s startling POVs about big-picture topics. How could you not look twice when the blogger Tweeted about her own miscarriage?

In her Martin Luther King Day post (1-18-2010), Ms. Trunk wrote about going to a rodeo in Madison, Wisconsin with her children and male companion (labeled “the farmer”). Ms. Trunk isn’t fond of the spectacle of animals risking injury for mere entertainment’s sake, and neither am I, but that’s a rant for another day. The sentence in the post which got my attention is as follows:

I really hated it before there were any animals. Before there were animals there was the flag, rising above the dirt ring, and the announcer saying everyone should sing the Star Spangled Banner to honor “the flag that protects our troops, and our churches and our great country.”

I looked over at the farmer for churches, and before I could roll my eyes, the announcer said, “Everyone please rise in the name of Jesus and sing the Star Spangled Banner.”

I told my kids to stay seated.

What was with “rise in the name of Jesus”? What is the connection between our national anthem and a rabbi who died more than 1700 years before the United States came into being? How can the American flag – a rectangle of cloth – protect a soldier or a church or anything from a bomb?

Why is the "Star-Spangled Banner" invariably played before sporting events in this country? The last time I stood for the national anthem was the last time I attended an Anaheim Ducks game, back in October 2005. I don’t recall ever feeling a swell of patriotism; I instead concentrated on staring down at the players before they covered their handsome heads with their helmets. I stood solely because of habit. It didn’t occur to me not to stand, even though these were the days when Bush and Cheney allowed some not-very-American happenings to go down in tiny cells around the world.

I now think that habit is the excuse that timidity gives itself.

Try this – the next time you go to a sporting event, do not stand for the national anthem. This has nothing to do with your personal feelings about the nation, the flag, and/or the troops. This is an exercise in doing something difficult. An exercise in not following the crowd. An exercise which might be practice for telling someone some tough words, or for making a decision that is right but unpopular. An exercise which is a true expression of what America means.

Most people are going to stare at you. Some might stare at you as if you just mutated into an open bag of fresh manure. It is possible that someone will dump his cup of beer on you – or worse. That is their problem, not yours. Sitting while the national anthem is being played is NOT illegal. Assault (which includes beer-dumping) is.

Sitting down for the anthem may feel strange. But so does asking a client who is overdue with his payments to send you a check immediately. Or telling your 80-year-old mother that her driving is too dangerous for herself and the other people on the road. Or going public as an atheist.

If you attend a lot of events where the anthem is played, you can make this a new, good habit (like brushing your teeth), every fifth time you hear the anthem, or even every tenth.

After Penelope Trunk’s post, a slew of commenters lined up for the attack – the kinds of people who think America is so fragile that a seated bottom during the national anthem is a grave wound. Actually, America cares just as much as Jesus does (who, as you remember, died about 2000 years ago) whether or not you stand or sit. Think about it.

(And this means that the next time I hear the national anthem played, I will have to stay seated lest I prove myself a rank hypocrite. We shall see when and if this plays out, for I don’t anticipate attending any sporting events in the near or far future.)