Valentine's Day Musings

It's fitting that I woke up this morning early, and surprisingly alert.

It's fitting that I had a good breakfast.

It's fitting that I had enough hot water to last an entire shower.

It's fitting that I found an outfit (quite a good one) in less than 10 minutes.

It's fitting that I left my apartment by 8:30

It's fitting that the sun is shining bright after two days of abysmal weather.

It's fitting that the trains were on time.

It's fitting that this day has started without issue, without drama, without something to make me remember what day it actually is. Nevertheless, I did remember what day it actually was as soon as I woke up this morning. Considering how much I hate today, how much I have hated today for the last 6 years, you'd think I would make myself forget today, but, you know me, the emotional masochist, so I won't ever forget it, only abhor it.

Friends have pointed out this year as a seemingly different Valentine's Day for me given circumstances, and, largely, they are right. This year is different. Unlike college, in which every February 14th was spent alone, or my senior year when I had someone but couldn't actually be with them, or last year when the one person I wanted wasn't available--emotionally, physically or geographically("but don't worry, you'll have him next year," I told myself)--this year is different because, though I won't have someone today, I'll have someone tomorrow, which is almost better in a way, because I need today to be what it's always been. I fell into the Valentine's Day rut years ago and never got out. In fact, after a while I just stopped trying. The digging and clawing against muddy, unsustainable walls that only pushed me deeper into an emotional furrow became quickly futile, and I had to realize that Valentine's Day just sucks. Routine got the best of me and rather than try and make the day into something it has never been or won't likely be in the future, I just resigned myself to letting it be a day I hate. So, today, call me a creature of habit. A Pavlovian manifestation. One who hates today because he can't remember what it felt like not to hate today. Of the few formulaic patterns in my life, this is one that, for now, will play out as it always has: I will operate today under somewhat robotic direction, with my chin up, my eyes forward, marching steadily through the gifts, the romantic dinners, the stolen kisses, the holding hands, the uncontrollable grins, the sex, the loathing, the sadness, the crying, the memory, and the desire to have what you can't until it has finally passed, and I can rest assured that for another year I won't have to remember how utterly failing Valentine's Day has been.

To love.

Seth

Great Paragraphs

The Fountainhead. Part II: Chapter VII

Her voice had the sound of efficiency, obeying an order with metallic precision. "I want to sleep with you. Now, tonight, and at any time you may care to call me. I want your naked body, your skin, your mouth, your hands. I want you--like this--not hysterical with desire--but coldly and consciously--without dignity and without regrets--I want you--I have no self-respect to bargain with me and divide me--I want you--I want you like an animal, or a cat on a fence, or a whore...

You know that I hate you, Roark. I hate you for what you are, for wanting you, for having to want you. I'm going to fight you--and I'm going to destroy you--and I tell you this as calmly as I told you that I'm a begging animal. I'm going to pray that you can't be destroyed--I tell you this, too--even though I believe in nothing and having nothing to pray to. But I will fight to block every step you take. I will fight to tear every chance you want away from you. I will hurt you through the only thing that can hurt you--through your work. I will fight to starve you, to strangle you on the things you won't be able to to reach. I have done it to you today--and that is why I shall sleep with you tonight...

I have hurt you today. I'll do it again. I'll come to you whenever I have beaten you--whenever I know that I have hurt you--and I'll let you own me. I want to be owned, not by a lover, but by an adversary who will destroy my victory over him, not with honorable blows, but with the touch of his body o mine. That is what I want of you, Roark. That is what I am. You wanted to hear it all. You've heard it. What do you wish to say now?"


"Take your clothes off."

Great Paragraphs

Consider this the first of a series of blogs I will be posting on great paragraphs I find while reading. Below, the first, and not likely last, from The Fountainhead.

Sometimes, not often, he sat up and did not move for a long time; then he smiled, the slow smile of an executioner watching a via victim. He thought of his days going by, of the buildings he could have been doing, should have been doing and, perhaps, never would be doing again. He watched the pain's unsummoned appearance with a cold, detached curiosity; he said to himself: Well, here it is again. He waited to see how long it would last. It gave him a strange, hard pleasure to watch his fight against it, and he could forget that it was his own suffering: he could smile in contempt, not realizing that he smiled at his own agony. Such moments were rare. But when they came, he felt as he did in the quarry: the he had to drill through granite, that he had to drive a wedge and blast the thing within him which persisted in calling to his pity.

The Truth Stings

Anger, pain, frustration, depression, hope, reconciliation, reluctance, regret--all in one email. The truest I've ever been with someone else and myself. Because everyone needs painful reminders in their life.

So this is now my third and final attempt to send this email, as well as my final edit. I now have to add yet another introduction because things have obviously changed since the first time I wanted to send it and since the second time I wanted to send it. But, I'm going to leave it all as is because I think that it's important that all my emotions are laid on the table, otherwise they are going to continue to eat away at me. I was really hoping to tell you this, or at least give you this email in person so you could understand exactly how I feel and then we could talk about. And, yes, I do understand how early you work and I'm not holding a grudge against you or anything, but I couldn't let this wait until after Christmas because I needed to get it off my mind before I head home to try and enjoy myself with friends and family. In turn, I guess I should apologize to you for throwing all this at you before you do the same, because it's going to mean different things for each of us. But, nevertheless, I just had to do it. If we talk about this later, then we talk. If we don't, I understand. In time we hopefully will.





I know that now, a week later, this email may seem after the fact, but I certainly couldn't have predicted what was going to happen last Monday with --. In any case, I could have easily let this slide, and allowed things to subsequently take their course as they seem to be doing. But, as you know, I am never one to leave things unsaid. As such, I'm going to leave the email I wrote last Monday as is and let you try and read it as it should have been read after the weekend of -- birthday party. It may seem hard to understand what I'm saying retrospectively considering what's happened since then, but I need you to know that what happened with -- bears no effect on what I need to tell you. What happened with him was a crazy and surreal experience, but it is also just that, an experience, and I don't want what follows to seem cheap or contrived, because it is every bit as true and poignant as it was last Monday. So, in so many words....


Of course this email is once again going to start with me saying I don't know how to start a conversation like this. You are, undoubtedly, a little tired of this shit by now--me coming to you with these emails of outpourings of emotion and feelings, but this will be the last for a long, long time.

Though I feel like most of the time I'm pretty good at internalizing my anxiety, yesterday I think I was obviously wearing my emotions on my sleeve. If you didn't notice I'm surprised, but chances are you could tell that after you told me you were dating someone I became withdrawn and noticeably affected. I wish I could say that I didn't care, and that I was happy for you. I wish that I could talk to you about it as a friend. And I wish I could say that I'm over you--but I'm not. And, because I'm not, and because I have become very self-destructive in trying to deal with our relationship and how I feel about you I have to let you know that I can't see you anymore. You're probably thinking that I am being over-dramatic and emotionally hyperbolic, but I think this is the only way that I can attempt to salvage any sort of relationship we have or will have. I just can't watch you date someone else, not yet at least. Because it simply reminds me of something we never had but I so desperately wanted. And after you told me that he was upset you were with me I also realized that I'm not going to become that person in your or anyone else's life. It's just an equation I can't be a part of, knowing that every time we hang out there is someone else who is being made upset by it. And, if we remained "friends," that is a position I would always occupy in your life considering our history, no matter who it's with. I would always be a threat, a sort of temptation I guess, that could compromise both of our relationships because you would of course have the same role in my life. No matter who I'm with, being around you will always remind me of whatever it was that we had and that I still want. So, like I said, in order to overcome all of this I have to work to move you into a realm of friendship, and there is no way I can do that unless I have the adequate space and time to get over you.

If you feel like you've been blind-sided or cheated or mislead or whatever, I understand. But, --, after months of being wrought emotionally by this it is the only thing I can do to get over you. Me saying this probably even seems really contradictory considering I have met someone, but that is even more reason that I have to quit you, because if I don't I'm going to take -- for granted. He is an unbelievable person and I can't string him along while I am still so attached to you with the hopes that something could develop between us. That just makes him an innocent victim in this whole thing and I don't want to be responsible for hurting someone like that. And I need you to know that I didn't actively seek him out, but when that relationship just fell in my lap I had to explore it, because I couldn't wait on you forever. I was prepared to wait a long time, and I already have waited a long time, but it was becoming clear, and it has since become even clearer, that I was waiting for something that wasn't going to come. So I just threw myself into that relationship hoping that it would help me get over you, but, the fact of the matter is, I still think about you when I'm with him. And that is unfair to him and to you, because I won't use him as a rebound or just a distraction because he deserves more than that. Moreover, I can't continue to treat you the way that I have and I need to apologize to you for certain things that I have done or said. I was so embarrassed yesterday when you told me you were seeing someone just because of how I had obviously propositioned you to sleep in my bed with me with the hopes that something would happen. Despite --, I took command of that situation and made the decision to come on to you, and then you tell me you are seeing someone and I realized I had completely misjudged the situation and basically made a fool of myself. And then I just felt so stupid for what I've been doing and who I've become throughout all of this. My actions have become inexplicable, even to myself, and if there is anything I hate more it's not being in control, especially of my own body. I know you can't and really aren't supposed to control emotions, but they have become such a detrimental force in my life that I have no choice but to at least try and harness them so that they don't crumble everything around me.

I don't mean to come off as accusatory, because this is largely my issue. But I also don't think anyone is without fault. Considering this isn't the first time we have addressed our relationship, it might seem redundant to bring it up again--but even after I told you last time how much I liked you and you responded and told me how you felt, I still feel like it was unresolved. Especially because of the way we still carried on our relationship in a very similar manner as it was before, just without the sex. But you can't deny that there was a palpable sexual tension between us when we were together and though we had labeled ourselves as friends, it still felt like there was something more going on. But maybe that was just my wishful thinking, and if it was, it just proves that I obviously have some work to do. And if it wasn't, then it still stands that it's unhealthy for us to be around one another unless we are actually going to be together.

I don't know how you are reacting to this, but I don't want you to think I am being insincere or harsh, because this is truthfully the hardest thing I've ever had to do. As I sit here writing this my hands are shaking and I'm fending off tears because I never ever wanted to lose you. And I hope I don't. Though it's hard for me to even fathom what it would be like to not basically be in love with you, I pray that I can get to that point, because I'd hate to live the rest of my life without you in it. The way I see it, you and I are unequivocally bound to one another just because of what we went through together. You basically held my hand as I came out to the world and decided to be who I have to be in order to be happy, and I am forever indebted to you for that. I can't say if you feel the same because you are obviously on a different side, but, because of how you helped me, I know that I'll always have a place for you in my heart, and once someone gets in they stay forever.

All of that finally being said, I have to say goodbye to you for now. It kills me --, absolutely kills me to do it. You're always going to be the one that got away, and I honestly think we could have had something great. But, if it wasn't mean to be then what can you do but move on? Hopefully with enough time and enough healing I can have you back in my life in an appropriate way that is beneficial to both of us. I'm so sorry -- and I mean that with the utmost sincerity. I'm sorry for the past and I'm sorry for whatever political mess this will cause in the future. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize anyone else's relationship whether it's yours or mine or even -- and --. So where things go from here I can't really say...we just have to let time do its thing.

Please, please take care of yourself. If you begrudge me that is fine and entirely expected. Be angry and upset and critical or even apathetic--but just know I have to do this, --. If I want to survive I have to.

With deepest love,
Seth

Dear Marc Jacobs....

Stop being naked all the time.

We get it--you started working out and have a marginally good body.

Guess what: You aren't the only one. In fact, despite your efforts, you don't look like, say, Chris Evans, who has every right to be shirtless at all times.

Get over yourself. I mean, seriously. We like you for you clothes, and could really care less about you physically.

And, let's be frank, your face is kind of busted. Whaaa Whaaa.

Yours,
Seth

An Open Letter to Usher

Dear Usher,

Stop. Killing. The. Planet.


As it is that I work at a high fashion magazine, my boss, the Editor-in-Chief, is invited to pretty much any event involving fashion. That being the case, the time is upon us for the release of Usher's new fragrances for men and women. Today my boss received her invitation for what is sure to be a star-studded-face-fest, and after getting my hands on this...thing...I have concluded this: it is not global warming, it is not the oil industries, it is not we non-recycling humans who are destroying he planet. No, it's USHER. OK, well actually it's the fashion industry and their flagrant insistence on spending too much money and too much material on ridiculous invitations and press materials for their bullshit products. And after receiving the invitation to Usher's "evening of elegance, glamour and theater," I can be silent no more.

I went to reception to pick up a bag for Robbie thinking it was just another gift from another designer. I get the bag, note it's shape and weight, and realize that, because no one gifts jewelry, the box in the bag is probably what I think it is. I open the bag and this is what I find:



The circular emblem of text reads "IT IS NOT HOW FAMOUS UR - IT IS WHAT UR FAMOUS FOR."

"Dear God," I think. I open the box. It gets worse:



"Please, please tell me this includes a book, a CD, candy, gold...something," I continue.

Alas, it does not:




"Usher, you stupid stupid pig fucker," I finally bemoan. Inside this leather bound box was an inch-thick, hard plastic, ornately decorated invitation that could easily kill someone if aimed at the head correctly. Not only that, but you will notice it was pretentiously placed in a velvet inlay that required the pull of a satin ribbon to remove....

WHAT. THE. FUCK!

I mean, seriously...tell me you are kidding with this shit! First of all, ur Usher and ur releasing a fragrance; not a new fashion line, not a new store, not anything remotely deserving of such wastefulness as say, I don't know, ur own wedding? No, you make this obscene, trite, regretfully tacky invitation for the launch of a women's and men's scent that will presumably smell like a floral car freshener and a concoction of those ingredients which you consider manly such as pine, vanilla, musk, aviators, fur coats, bling and your own nymphomaniacal sweat. I just need one good reason--besides, of course, that ur the almighty Usher--that it is even remotely necessary to waste so much on something that will be thrown away in a week? It goes without saying that you have to invite a good handful of people because, ya know, ur Usher, but shouldn't that make you a little more reserved with your chosen invitation? In a Hollywood society that has latched onto the idea of "going green" like a fat girl to a corndog, it amazes me that Usher would blatantly present something so improvident.

Usher, however, only serves as another notch on the let's-waste-money-because-it's-fashion post. I can't tell you how many times I've received press material from designers or jewelers about their new lines. In fact I've got a press kit from Pom Pom in my cubicle right now that rivals Usher in wastage. Now I'm all for saving the polar bears and what not, and I don't portent to be the most bio-friendly person on the block, but I will say I am becoming more aware of what needs to be done, and it truly has become offensive what these PR companies and fashion houses will do to promote their shit. We know it's out there. We have computers. We have Style.com and we read fashion magazines. I don't need your 40 pound book ensconced in a plastic case, Gucci.

So, Usher. If it truly is not how famous ur, but what ur famous for, I think we've got you pegged. Lead on, Wasty McWasters, lead on.

Seth

How to Save the Polar Bears

By now most of you are probably aware that I am on a big "save the polar bears" kick. I've posted the heart wrenching video from Planet Earth in which a male polar bear swims 60 miles to find food, only to come upon a hoard of walruses that he cannot overtake for food. Beaten, gored and tired, the polar bear digs a shallow hole in the ground, lies down and dies. I've cried every time I've watched it, but I only have myself and my fellow humans to blame. Because of shrinking polar ice caps, food is isolated and spread out, making the fight for survival that much more difficult for a species that will likely be extinct in less than 50 years.

Need a reminder of the tragedy? Here ya go:



Now, what are we going to do about this? Through a number of discussions with fellow polar bear sympathizers, I have come up with two plans. OK, well two besides the obvious plan of just being more aware of what we do to our planet. Post-Al Gore, Leonardo DiCaprio and Captain Planet I don't need to sit here and tell you what we have to do to try and save the Earth and all the amazing things on it. But, if I can offer a couple of plausible, albeit "unconventional" alternatives, allow me to do so:

1. Monthly Food Rations for the Polar Bears

But where will such food come from you might ask? At the brilliant suggestion of a one Mr. Benjamin Pryor, it has been proposed that every month a boat is sailed to the poles loaded with murderers, rapists and pedophiles. Seedy politicians and Britney Spears are welcomed as well. Starting with the most severe of offenders, they will be given proper rations and supplies to survive for a number of days until they are eventually mauled and eaten by polar bears. They will of course be given no weapons or anything available to use as defense. Their clothing and supplies will be sprayed with some sort of odor, perhaps beef bullion or eau de seal to attract the bears. Considering the state of the polar bear food situation, it shouldn't take long for the bears to become adapted to the monthly delivery, ensuring that these criminals will be dispatched in a timely manner. Also, it was favorably suggested by Andrew Heim that the delinquents' hands be removed to not only safeguard baby polar bears from pointy fingers, but also keep potentially crafty individuals from gaining an advantage over the polar bears.

2. Walrus Handbags

Confused? Let me elaborate. And please forgo any barbaric allusions, as I am simply trying to save the goddamn polar bears. If you noticed in the video posted above, one of the toughest obstacles for the polar bear to overcome in his attempt to kill a male walrus was the walrus' extremely tough, impenetrable skin. Their epidermic state being as such, my collegue, Dontre Conerly, noted how fantastic their skin would be for handbags. "That shit would last forever!" he exclaimed. And he is right, it would last forever, and would also aid in the polar bear food crisis. Let's point out the obvious: there is no shortage of walruses in the world. That being the case, human intervention--with all our arbalestic ingenuity--could easily neutralize a walrus, take its hide, and leave a healthy meal for one or two polar bears. Now, I'm not talking about a mass poaching of the walrus; only enough to a) provide food for struggling polar bears and b) create a new fashion craze that would take the heat off of other valuable, but overused hides. By carefully rationing the amount of harvested walrus skin, it would ensure a degree of luxury to the subsequent bags, meaning they would be elusive and prices would be high. With a hefty price tag attached to the bag, it would translate into large profits from which portions could be donated to the save the polar bear cause. Basically the creation of the handbags would continue what nature started ages ago before the ice caps started melting. We have interfered with and disrupted the hunter-vs-prey process, therefore we have no choice but to become a part of the process to ensure a restored balance. Humans become the symbolic ice bridges that the polar bears use to get back to their food.


I think with careful planning and government support, either of these entirely tenable plans would work. Because polar bears need our help. And all it takes is a little sacrifice to make it happen. I mean, the polar bears are making sacrifices for us, right? It's only right that we do the same.


Seth

Eric and Seth: Book and Book-ability

I had quite an interesting Facebook Wall conversation today with my good friend, Eric Mueller. It's funny, yeah, but also sort of interesting if you think about it. Enjoy:

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 12:47am

If you read a book online does that still count as reading a book?

Hmmmmmmmm...this is going to keep me up tonight

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 12:51am

Like, you can read the news from a newspaper, and you can read the news online...but you cant read the newspaper online

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 9:58am

You can however "bookmark" web pages

The plot thickens...(pun?)

Seth Plattner wrote
at 10:18am

Hey, take it easy over there. I've already got enough on my plate without the conundrum of the validity of cyber literature.

But, one must also consider: what constitutes the reading of a book and/or newspaper? The physical act of turning a page? Or simply the intake and organization of words? And if it comes down to just page ingestion then we could easily argue that, if a book is read online, we are still in fact reading webPAGES....

Good God look what you've done to me...

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 10:44am

Yes, yes I came across that same theory earlier on as well
But the internet is a little different. In the real world, what is and what is not a book is quite clear.

However, online I'm afraid is quite the opposite. How can you tell the difference from a book online and just a long typed story? Is it a book just because it says it is a book?
Does actual physical publishing in the real world validate it's..."book-ness" online?

If you pay to view it online does that make it a book? If so then are blogs and forums, that you pay for to view, books? To go further, books can have multiple authors, as well as editors. Forum moderators and admins have to power to edit what is said on blogs and forums…

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 10:44am

Then you have the Public Domain to take into mind. Centuries of Literature, ancient libraries composed of thousands upon thousands of authors; everything from that written world can be digitized on a single webpage…for free. Is it then one book, or many, or is it just a series of long written stories?

Now here comes the big brain twister. Is it, in this digital age, that a page now consists of books rather than a book consisting of pages?

Seth Plattner wrote
at 10:53am

But, in following your argument, if pages may now consist of books, we are lead right back to your previous observance: books can now be compiled on pages, but do those pages, though made up of books, in turn become books (again)? Of course, as you pointed out, it simply depends on what defines a book. I'm afraid we've found ourselves in a dialogue of circularity.

We need to publish and essay on this. Are we revolutionaries?

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 2:31pm

I think I have come to the conclusion that a book is the name of the physical object of the complied story in the physical world.

If you read a "book" online it is not a book, because it is only the digital manifestation of the story and not the physical object - a book.

So in short: Online, it should be called a story/fiction/non-fiction/

or whatever else genre it is, not a book.
For example: “Oh man I just read some really good fiction online today.”
Not: “Oh man I read this really crappy book online today.”
For a mixed example, (using both the digital and physical world) “Wow that was such a great story online. I think I’m going to buy the book later on today.”

Does that fit?

Seth Plattner wrote
at 2:34pm

I believe we are settled.

That was intense...

Eric Mueller (Santa Fe) wrote
at 2:42pm

So therefore, if someone asks me, "How many books have you read recently?" I will have to say none...

Great

Withdrawal

Seth is...

Beaten Worn Ripped Scarred Slashed Hurt
Ached Trodden Warped Scratched Mutilated
Bruised Neglected Shattered Trampled Weakened
Broken Shredded Forgotten Slapped Marred
Torn Burned Whipped Crushed Dissolved
Smashed Mangled Erased Discarded Starved
Pommeled Obliterated Slaughtered Nullified Scorned
Hated Ravaged Maimed Crippled Deformed
Wounded Scraped Paralyzed Battered Wrecked
Gnarled Lashed Faded Gnawed Destroyed

Spent

Utterly Spent

Who are You (According to Grease 2)?

After introducing my roommate Aja to the immeasurable joys of Grease 2, we've concluded that there is only way to separate the world into two, very polar, very black and white groups: Those who like Grease 2 and those who don't. Usually everyone tries to avoid labels and say things like "It's not that easy to just separate people into two marked groups," or "There has to be a gray area." Well, with Grease 2 it is precisely that easy, because everyone who has seen or will see it always knows how they feel about it the minute it ends (or, in my case, after Michelle Pfeifer sings "Cool Rider").

So ya like it or ya don't is basically what I'm saying. And derived from that opinion is the type of person you are. What we decided is that if you don't like it, you can be characterized as a stick in the mud. Someone who doesn't realize the value of intentional camp. One who thinks that movie prowess is equivalent to only appreciating the art house indie or the studio darling. That person who can't watch G2 and understand that, despite it's over-the-top cheesiness, there lies an actual thread of thought and wit: Michelle Pfiefer's chic and entirely modern wardrobe? Fabulous! The cinematography in "Who's That Guy?" Sexy! The Heller-esque absurdist satire meant to reveal the inherent inanity of the wartime in which the movie is set? Brilliant! Ok, that last one may be a bit of a stretch, but, I would still argue that the movie has some cinematic merit if you just watch (again, I site the red-wash lighting in "Cool Rider" that only enhances Pfeifer's badass Stephanie Zinon).

Now, those of us that watch the movie are the ones who can have fun at the movies. We can appreciate a campy crap-fest because it was made for precisely that reason--to be ridiculous and funny and even better after a few beers. We understand that to take G2 as a serious feature is to entirely miss the purpose of its creation. To compare it to the original Grease is simply idiotic, only guaranteeing that one would miss the value of G2. The true movie genius will also understand that, in the face of tradition and witless dedication, G2 actually has the better soundtrack. Watch both movies back-to-back, wait an hour or two, and just wait and see which soundtrack you start humming.

This is our assessment. No, our truth. Those reading know we're right, and most of you likely fall into the latter category simply because you've heard someone else say "Grease 2? What a shitty movie." your response: "Oh I know, it's so stupid." When you're really saying in your head "But it's just so fabulous!." Watch it again with one of your best friends, someone you know won't judge you and see how much more tolerable it is when you have your guard down, when you know that you are just going to have fun watching. As soon as it's finished, grab your ball and shoes, head down to the bowling alley and have your own sing-a-long with "Score Tonight."

Seth