RIP David Lynch
I haven’t seen all of Lynch’s movies—I’m behind on Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Dune, and some of his later work like Inland Empire. I’ve only watched Twin Peaks sporadically. My wife and I have been planning to watch all of Lynch’s filmography, as well as Stanley Kubrick’s. That’ll be a goal for the year. I’m a huge fan of Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive. I love his collaboration with Trent Reznor on the Lost Highway soundtrack, especially the use of Rammstein, which I really enjoy.
A while back, I listened to the biography of David Lynch, Room to Dream, which is great in audio format because each chapter is split between Kristine McKenna, who provides a straightforward biography, and Lynch, who reflects on the information given. It’s really entertaining when he goes on angry tangents. I might re-listen to that soon.
Jay Dyer, author of Eosteric Hollywood and host of Jay’s Analysis did an interesting analysis of some of Lynchs work - Link
Steve Sailor wrote about Lynch too - Link
The Fire Academy
I graduated from the Fire Academy last month. Overall, it was a great experience, and while I’m glad I no longer have to go to the Academy after work or all day on Saturdays, I do miss it. Early on, some of the drills, like search and rescue in a pitch-black room, were far more taxing than I’d expected—like, duh. After finishing EMT school, I was eager to get to the Academy, but once I was there, it wasn’t so awesome right away. Thankfully, I went into it with decent conditioning, but by no means as good as I should have been. On our first day in gear, two people fell out while we donned and doffed our bunker gear and airpacks; one guy had to be taken away by an ambulance. It was a rough day early on because you haven’t been in your gear at all, but that was on him. It surprised me how many people, usually younger guys, had hardly worked outside or done much hard labor at all. At the very least, having that experience gives you a boost on the physical side of things.
Now, as I actually seek employment, I can acknowledge my satisfaction. It feels really good to know that, right now, I qualify to be a rookie firefighter. There’s so much more ahead still. The Academy gave me a newfound sense of self-pride that is rooted in hard work and dedication. I overcame some hurdles, like panicking early on in the search and rescue/hose maze drills. We did a search and rescue drill in a 600-degree room, and I cleared four rooms by myself and dragged the mannequin out on my own. I’d never been in such a high-stakes situation before, and after finishing that evolution, I wanted more.
I went into the Academy hoping to get a job that was worth doing and being paid for. I desperately needed a plan for my future, but now I’m thoroughly excited to do the job.
If you live in Florida, there is a full-ride scholarship available for Firefighter, EMT, Paramedic, and Police programs right now. My pitch is this: you get to do an awesome job, help people, and get compensated accordingly. That’s sadly become a rare thing in America.
Hard Work for the Creative Person
As tough as it will be seeing death and gruesome injuries—which I know is going to happen—I have the mindset that it’s not me who’s dealing with it, and it’s my duty to mend the situation to the best of my ability. I feel like if I won the lottery tomorrow, I’d still pursue this career. Personally, I don’t feel happy or creative knowing I have more potential than I’m using. Not long ago, that manifested in depression, smoking, and drinking to excess, with hardly anything to show for it. I’ve done all my experimenting with drugs, read crazy books, and pushed the limits of my sanity, and while that all led me here, I know I wasted a lot of time on silliness.
At this point, I’ve realized I’m a nuts-and-bolts type of guy. I like heady stuff and art, and that has its place for me, but it means nothing if society breaks down and people stop doing what needs to be done. There’s a great deal of artists from the past who had legitimate skills or trades: Philip Glass was a plumber, Lawrence Ferlinghetti served as a captain on a submarine in WWII, Steve Buscemi whas a fire fighter, a whole gang of country singers served in the military, and Jack Kerouac was a Merchant Marine and worked as a railroad operator.
Working a tough day job doesn’t make you a great artist by virtue, but it definitely builds character, and I think that’s one of the main traits I’m drawn to in art and in people as a whole. I’m not interested in floundering, schizophrenic, or neurotic ramblings from people with clean fingernails. I think, at this point, it would be hard to convince me that I should listen to the opinions or ideas from someone who went straight from high school to college and then into a career in the humanities—unless they built a barn or restored a car in their spare time. It just seems like a lot of hot air to me, and it feels like those people typically want to annihilate my freedoms so they can twiddle their thumbs somewhere else. That might sound one-dimensional, but that’s just how I feel.
I think this is especially important now, as the Western world drifts further into an online, information-based society. It seems like people crowd together in a room of mirrors, shouting increasingly flamboyant and lofty ideas at one another, all while using hardworking "common" people as leverage in their debates. This applies to both the right and left wings. Meanwhile, people with genuine character, skills, and interesting lives are just getting by—doomed to become a footnote in a Twitter debate or fashion inspiration for shallow gentrifiers.
I hope America enters a golden age, not only economically but spiritually, as we look back to a time when a working man could be nourished by his culture—not for nostalgia’s sake, but as a guide to a civilization worth living in. It begins with you.
“Technology will destroy all spirit of individuality.” - Jake Phelps