A Few Notes from Underground

Today marked my last day of undergraduate classes at the University of Missouri. Even today’s one class wasn’t even all that real–my writing professor, Berkley Hudson, invited our class to his mansion of a house (I saw like 2-3 porches in the back as well as a giant stone labyrinth) for a bite to eat and some conversation. He had us share a “sentence, paragraph, or poem” that meant something to us and then whipped out this collection of eclectic instruments and had us all choose one and play. It was slightly outrageous but a kind gesture and fitting from a professor who took us all into a cave in the pouring rain.

I chose Hemingway’s 6-word story for my item: “For Sale: Baby shoes, never used.”

Graduation really comes at about the perfect time. Even though it’s only been three years, I feel like I’ve been an undergraduate here for eons. And it’s been good. I really have learned a lot. My writing and reporting skills, particularly in the past year, have improved astronomically for whatever reasons. Yesterday I showed one woman a 4100 word profile I had written about her and had her tearing up and giving me a hug.

I’m also beginning to feel more optimistic about staying in Columbia, Missouri for the summer and freelancing and earning some money. I’ve got Google Alerts ready to send me all Missouri news once a day. I’ve got other projects I’m ready to work on. I’m dealing with The Missourian about publishing that 3000 word feature on gifted education I wrote a few months back. I just came had a meeting with an editor and an education reporter named Audrey a couple hours ago.

Life is good. It can be better. Time will definitely help move that along. Graduation: 8 days from today. Masters orientation: Three months. It’s all about time.

After the past week, I’m beginning to think this election has reached the depths of trivial. Barack Obama successfully fended off the latest in a series of small and genuinely irrelevant qualms, primarily brought up by his primary opponent Hillary Clinton. Considering the past few weeks, labels judge him an elitist as well as complicit in anti-American preaching and even the Weather Underground revolutionaries.

During the course of these events, his own poll numbers have weakened. An article last week revealed Republicans increasingly believe him fallible in the general election. Even so, Obama has bounced back, deflecting criticism over the Rev. Jeremiah Wright on Tuesday with his “outrage” and denunciation. Few would disagree that his troubled divorce from the reverend matched a consistent campaign message and voice. Genuine emotion appeared to support his words, and rightfully so, given his 20-year friendship with the man.

Hitting back isn’t Obama’s style though. I’ve never seen the senator look quite so displeased and sad as during that denunciation. Just the nature of the last primary debate deflated him with its questions picking at Wright and Bill Ayers. Kicking the reverend out of his presidential campaign spotlight is probably wise, considering the parasitic drain. Look to history and I don’t think a candidate has ever had an outside associate that’s dragged him down with such intensity and received so much media attention, often exaggerated and unfair. More than anything, the recent charge of Obama’s elitism baffles me. Nobody can explain to me how a white, Ivy League former first lady can attempt to brand herself as the working class candidate and Obama as a lofty, out-of-touch intellectual.

On that note, what exactly is “elitism”? People use the term casually and talk about how Obama isn’t connecting with the working voters. Questions about his experience and policies seem natural, but doubts exist over his bond with voters. Really? Some bring up his affluent education, but there’s also his years living all over America and the world, years as a Chicago community organizer, and his rallies of thousands. To me, this shows vibrant connection.

Undergoing the pressures of a presidential campaign naturally requires any candidate running to be a little elitist, and it’s dishonest to pretend that’s not the case or to hide intelligence in a forced laugh or a shot of whiskey. Vocabulary, for instance, is a strong point for Obama, and I prefer that to the inability to speak or recognize that al Qaeda is Sunni and Iran is Shiite. What makes an elite education, ability and background so bad? Xenophobia and impulse fuel many of our current, ill-informed policies, which cultivates a climate of fear from people who parade their common, working folks color like none other.

Yet many Americans see this charge of elitism and view it in the same lens they view “liberal” as a dirty word and informed education as a social crime. Zero sense backs this desire for a just-folks, C-average leader.

A natural problem does occur if that education turns to pretension, to name-dropping and artificial flash without understanding. But Obama’s charisma and sheer emotional impact on countless people wipes out that charge. Calculating in the experience factor makes the campaign questions more difficult, of course, and opens up the issue of whether substance backs up the words, but this elitist charge should hardly stick.

Debate the details all you want, but these empty charges that focus on meaningless trivia only cheapen the process. Election day and respect isn’t won on minutia such as not agreeing to a 22nd debate or a radical preacher. Fight on real grounds, Hillary.

Originally published in The Maneater on May 1st, 2008

The busiest semester of my life is almost over. Two weeks, and I’ll be a college graduate with degrees in magazine journalism and history. That’s a scarily stunning, sweet thought. No complaints.

The last two months have left me devastated and insane due to work. I finished my thesis, which ended up being 90 pages or so, and I have to defend a revised version of that in a week and a half. I’m frantically finishing up an online Africa class. I’ve continued to write a weekly column for my campus newspaper and write some journalistic stories for VOX, our city weekly magazine (including an interview and profile of the band Stars that was fun to do).

I am, folks, exhausted. I’ll be writing more soon though.

Sadly my thesis has torn me perpetually from making any updates here in the past few days, and that’s something I deeply regret. To explain: I’ve chosen for my history degree capstone this year to write an independent honors thesis of like 60 to 100 pages on Fyodor Dostoevsky. Specifically, I’m writing about how he used his literary celebrity to further his own political beliefs and how, despite his staunch conservatism, his impact transcended ideology and helped bring together Russia in the 1860s and 1870s in his own distinct way.

There’s good reason my cell phone’s ringtone is David Bowie and Queen’s “Under Pressure” this year. Oh man…it’s been an intense few months.

I’m drawing information from novels, letters, his The Diary of a Writer columns in the 70s…the whole works. I’m also bringing in other figures such as Ivan Turgenev to talk about the generational conflicts, East vs. West issues, and ways to bring in info on the Slavophile and Native Soil movements.

So far–uncool to say it, perhaps–but the thesis has been a blast. I wouldn’t have traded it for any capstone in the world. Dostoevsky is easily one of my favorite writers, so the chance to learn more about him has been great; I also like learning more about political theory and simply philosophy resonating throughout Europe in the 19th century.

Isaiah Berlin is one of my new favorite writers for that…Russian Thinkers is INCREDIBLE. I was chatting with a Russian professor on the MU campus the other day and found out that Tom Stoppard (the playwright responsible for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead) somehow turned the work into a series of plays, which I’m now dying to see.

I’ve knocked out a third of the thesis so far and hope to race through another score or so of pages ASAP. Needless to say, once I’m finishing up the core writing of that in April, I’ll have far more time to wander here. My time’s also been drained by some new journalism work and the fact that my Alternative Spring Break group is leaving for the Florida Keys in like a week and a half. Life’s been pretty enjoyably outrageous.

It was Monday, and no one was happy. I stared out across the fountain next to Brady Commons, where everyone frowned and avoided eye contact, pulling their coats and hats close. Perhaps they recalled the joys of the weekend’s warmth and the festivities of True/False, lamenting how much the cold return to class sucked in comparison. Those hats, scarves and especially gloves looked stunningly attractive to me; I had been shaking next to this booth for over two hours with only my leather coat to protect me.

“Hey John,” a voice called out. “What’re you doing out here freezing your ass off?”

An old friend of mine from middle school approached. We used to frequent pool halls throughout high school and chatted at a couple parties in college. I’d last seen him two weeks ago at a party but before then not since summer.

“Coffee?” I offered, gesturing to the table with the torn Starbucks-styled poster and the giant container of coffee. “It’s only a dollar and goes to help our Alternative Spring Break trip to the Florida Keys. We’re helping the Nature Conservancy and removing invasive plant species.”

Brad laughed. “I don’t drink coffee, but you know what? Take this. Environmentalism’s a good cause.”

I stared at the $10 bill in my hand in grateful awe, and we continued to chat for 25 minutes, which helped me forget the cold. I spent about three hours outside shivering that day and six hours total trying to sell those cups of coffee. As a site leader for the trip, I wanted to help through all the shifts. Starbucks had sponsored us, giving the coffee for free. Fundraising was a new concept for me, and while its difficulties could be disillusioning, I was having fun with it. The event also allowed our participants to actually chat for once.

Coffee has often dominated my life lately, and its role in our fundraisers is fitting. Up until this past summer, I hadn’t consumed more than five cups in my life. The notion never appealed to me and even annoyed me half the time. The cultural baggage of coffee included pseudo-intellectuals, neuroses, the “latte effect” of unnecessary spending and a severe caffeine addiction that secured the permanence of all the above.

Last summer, though, an internship for The Missouri Review meant reading and assessing twenty manuscripts a week. I figured, why not up the pretension and just try the coffee shops to make the process smoother? Couldn’t hurt, after all.

My first time at Lakota, I stared up at the great big menu for an eternity. The details bewildered me, and I understood nothing. The workers stared in expectation, so I simply stepped forward and said, “A cup of the house, bottomless, for here.” It’s been my order ever since.

In the past eight months, I’ve become a regular at all the downtown coffee shops and opened up to their virtues. One friend also started coming to Lakota for the first time a few months ago. We used to binge on cup after cup, chatting till midnight there, which tragically led to being restfully awake till 4 or 5 a.m. My night order changed to Earl Grey shortly after those experiences.

Given the role of coffee in the past year, this latest fundraiser was a natural conclusion. I actually appreciate coffee more because I discovered it only recently. It’s been a terrific way to get out of the house and actually accomplish some work or enjoy good conversation. In fact, I sit in a coffee shop as I write this very column, and, truth be told, it’s time to grab another cup.

Originally published in The Maneater on March 7th, 2008

I’ve had the longest couple days. This year I’m a site leader for the Alternative Spring Break organization and will be leading a group of students from the University of Missouri to the Florida Keys in a few weeks. We’re helping out the Nature Conservancy and removing invasive plant species and all that good stuff (not to mention enjoying far brighter and warmer days than in Missouri).

Yesterday my group ran a fundraiser for the trip from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. where we sold Starbucks coffee. Starbucks was nice enough to give us the coffee for free, so that was pretty sweet. Yet–less sweet–I ended up working the fundraiser for six hours since I had an open schedule and I’m one of the two site leaders. Still, the first three hours we were selling the coffee outside, where it’s absolutely freezing. Christ, that was rough. I was still shaking inside 20 minutes after we moved out of the cold.

All in all, it was a solid experience though. The best part was actually getting a chance to chat with different members of my group going. So far we’ve had plenty of weekly meetings but rarely any one-on-one moments where we can just talk. Since we’ll be around each other 24/7 before too long for a week, I think this comfort level’s pretty important.

No matter how cold it got, this image also bolstered me quite a bit:

Hunter S. Thompson was a terrifically chaotic individual. I saw the new Alex Gibney biopic film about the man, Gonzo, last night at the True/False Film Festival.  It not only was epic but really showcased the appeal of excess, particularly in the writing life in this case. I remember someone in the film mentioned Hunter wanted to bring the rock star lifestyle to the world of words–not the worst idea anyone’s ever had.

“Gonzo” impressed me quite a bit and also featured a lot of simply awesome people. The film included Tom Wolfe, Jimmy Carter, McGovern, Buchanan, and Johnny Depp, just to name a few. Their interviews paled in comparison to the actual past footage of Hunter though…that man was seriously a machine and apparently one driven by Wild Turkey and drugs.

Most surprising revelation of the evening: “Gonzo” was produced by Graydon Carter, editor of Vanity Fair. Who knew? Director Alex Gibney also was responsible for The Smartest Guys in the Room and Taxi to the Dark Side, which won an Oscar last Sunday.

I actually just read On The Road in January and saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the first time in December, so this timing was slightly perfect. I’m constantly fascinated when I think about the dynamics among 60s figures such as Hunter, Kesey, and other older beat figures such as Cassidy and Ginsberg. “Gonzo” offered a great brief window into that when talking about Hunter’s Hell’s Angels work.

Seeing this now, as a young journalist, is pretty critical, I think…and definitely an impetus to read more Hunter S. Thompson. Cheers to the memory of gonzo.

Today kicks off the second official day of the fifth True/False Film Fest. That’s pretty thrilling, right? Apparently this is the biggest year the documentary festival’s ever experienced. Passes sold out about two weeks ago, which means scores of other people and I will need to scramble to the Cherry Street Artisan to pay more now for individual tickets.

The subject of the festival has dominated the discussion of all my friends, and I’m increasingly curious to see just how this changes the nature of the town. I’ve heard the filmmakers actually love coming to Columbia and request this event, according to one of the festival’s representatives who spoke in one of my classes. They dig the quaint nature of mid-Missouri, apparently; I suppose the infinitely walkable downtown of five square blocks doesn’t hurt either.

“For four days, downtown Columbia, Missouri is transformed into a small-town midwestern utopia,” claimed Paul Sturtz and David Wilson when talking about this leap day weekend on the True/False Web site.

That begs the question: Is Columbia ever anything else? As far as small-town Midwestern utopias go, Columbia’s not terrible.

Between this and events such as the Roots ‘N Blues ‘N BBQ Festival from a few months back, I’d say Columbia is doing fairly well for itself this year. I don’t know whether it’s the Special Business District’s efforts or just the right time-and-place magic of it, but this really is far from the worst town these days, and it’s showing in the population explosion. One of the big forces behind the festival, Ragtag Cinemacafé, is getting a total revamp and combining with Uprise Bakery. I can’t wait to see its new location on Hitt Street. The Ragtag’s only been around since the late ‘90s, but it’s bizarre imagining Columbia without its presence now.

Although in terms of weird Columbia facts, try this one: Recently closed nightclub Shattered used to be located in what’s now the Cherry Street Artisan back in the day. How’s that for mind-blowing?

This’ll be the first year I manage to experience any of the essence that is True/False (or any film festival, for that matter). My freshman year, I was an idiot and had no idea it was worth checking out. Last year, I would have gone crazy to attend, but my presence in Europe affected that possibility. This year, though, I’m ready. I’m especially thrilled to learn there’ll be a couple free movies if you present your student ID, including one today.

Columbia was the first place I started really getting into documentaries. I might have seen a Michael Moore film and a few things in high school, but none of my friends were hip to theatrical releases of documentaries. I owe the Ragtag some of that. My memories still run strong from each year of their releases, whether the films are touching on the Iraq War, the MPAA ratings, the electric car or even zoophilia (VERY eerily enough) in a recent summer release there.

So I’m grateful to be in Columbia this year for the True/False and take it as a fantastic excuse to kick back with some popcorn and a drink and take in some drama that’s compellingly more relevant than other movies out there. Life really can’t be easily imitated, and I say that as the son of a former Catholic priest and former Catholic nun who went on to discover they won their state lottery on a Friday the 13th. You can’t make that shit up. A good documentary is golden and worth recognizing.

Hope to see you all out there this weekend!

Originally published in The Maneater on Feb. 29th, 2008

If anyone’s curious about this True/False Film Festival I keep mentioning, I recommend you check this new article in Vox magazine that’s out today. It gives a great history of the festival’s evolution and why David Wilson and others behind the Ragtag Cinemacafe are bringing real, worthwhile movies to the Midwest.

I like hearing about how they first got started particularly, which was well before I came to Columbia, Mo. While I love the idea of helping independent cinema, it seems like it would have been rough to just go around to all the different established festivals and try to raise attention for Columbia. Not that it’s a problem now.

From the article:

Already, 2008 seems to represent a leap forward for True/False. In 2007, the festival sold approximately 750 passes that allowed holders to claim tickets before they were officially available for purchase. This year, all 1,400 passes sold out more than two weeks before the festival began.

True/False coordinators estimated last year’s attendance was roughly 15,000, and greater numbers are expected this year. Unfortunately, the largest crowd yet coincides with the loss of the Missouri Theatre and its considerable 1,200 seats. To compensate, the festival has for the first time extended beyond The District to take advantage of screens at Macklanburg Cinema, Windsor Cinema and The Den on the Stephens College campus.

True/False also occurs on the heels of a brief hiatus and location change for Ragtag Cinema, the independent movie house whose creation now seems a preliminary step in Wilson and Sturtz’s plan to bring cinematic culture to Columbia. The new building houses two screens, both of which will show movies for the duration of the festival, bringing the number of theaters in use throughout the festival to seven — more than twice the number of venues at the festival’s first incarnation.

There’s also related news in the campus newspaper and in the city newspaper The Missourian.

The True/False Film Festival has officially crashed Columbia. If anyone told you “…An Alternative to Slitting Your Wrist” is truly an uplifting film, I’d forget about it. It is, however, a pretty decent and astonishingly honest film, especially for a first-time filmmaker like Owen Lowery. He chronicles in minute detail his quarterlife crisis and the breakdown that landed him in the psych ward a couple years ago. That incident left him suicidal and full of angst but he rebels against the depression by creating a list of creative things to do each week over the course of one year, starting from his birthday in 2006 to his birthday in 2007.

I saw this last night at a room on the University of Missouri campus in its first public screening. Owen Lowery himself and one of the other people responsible for the film were also there to answer any questions. For a guy battling with massive depression and a quarterlife crisis, Lowery came off as a shockingly chipper and funny guy.

Amazingly he managed to avoid the schlocky risk of the movie being just a catalogue of all the stunts in the list. It started to feel that way initially after watching him doing some squirrel fishing and other assorted random “just for kicks” activities on the list, but before long we dove into a meditation on his past, which apparently included some pretty brutal molestation that he comes to confront. I imagine Lowery’s previous job as a video editor for the Rotary Club helped his instincts with pacing and tone.

The sweetest scene by far was his studio recording of a song with his formerly alcoholic father about the father’s dead cat Oprah. The most disturbing scenes involved his footage of himself in his apartment alone banging his head against the wall and raging about the angst-y meaningless of life. I also wonder about the element of performance when it comes to scenes like this when a guy’s doing a documentary about himself. He comes dangerously close to isolating the audience at times with these angst-filled, doom-and-gloom rants (which might remind some people of that cliche emo kid from high school), but always avoids going quite too far and lightens the mood when appropriate.

On the whole? Incredibly worthwhile effort and if you can see it, do so. I feel lucky to have been at its first public showing.