Killing Curiosity

After finishing Jarhead - I feel an absolute sense of anticlimaticization. Some might say Swofford intended it that way, its a metaphor for the war, blah, blah. If this is true, it is not clever, it is just sad and pathetic. You get all riled up and excited for these guys that the war is finally going to start, they will finally get their moment, have some great 1600 yard pink mist kills, degrade some Iraqi soldiers...something. But alas, nothing. They heaviest fire they come under is from their own buddies. They are so desperate to latch onto something warish that Swofford gets pissed about missing out on the glory of phoning in the coordinates of the enemy to the airforce. I feel like Swofford had some pretty strong political thoughts going at the start of the second half, just before the war starts, but similarly in the end he briefly mentions a quick withdrawl and going from protector to intuder, then offers up Desert Storm as healing wounds from Vietnam? Not sure I can get down with that. I wanted him to preach a little more, if nothing else. He does a good job of driving home the point of leaving Iraq unsatisfied, but I can't feel the emotion/frustration of it as well as earlier in the book (His almost? suicide vs. killing curiosity). It seems it should be even worse post-war, when there isn't even hope of a potential kill left - tell me a story about Kheun shooting someone in a bar fight, about Johnny Rotten becoming a superstalker serial killer, or how everyone got drunk and did a field-fuck in the Dublin airport bar, something to leave me laughing or at least make me think, not leave me indifferent.

There were some second-half highlights though -

I like the AnyMarine Letters, and that some of them end up having wierd lettersex with midwest farmers' daughters. It reminds you how young these guys actually are when they are receiving senior portraits from girls their age. I clearly remember writing these letters (of the non-sexual nature) in my 5th grade class - I really hope I was not jerkoff fodder for some jarhead.

The believablity issue comes back in a few different ways. Swofford spends a lot of time talking about what absolute liars Marines are and that they are not to be trusted - the whole Fowler story, his brother, himself when he was younger. His dad seems to be a fairly stand-up guy, but he was not a Marine right? Are we supposed to believe he has made a lifelong commitment to being honest upon entering the Marines? However, I will have to say that he has no problem admitting to pissing his pants anytime a mouse farts near him. This lends him some credibility and makes me feel like this is indeed a memoir - also nothing actually exciting happens, which only happens in truly, truly horrible novels.

I'm a big fan of the fighting hole - hourglass imagery/metaphor and the sand itself actually driving him crazy. Dig the hole, it gets filled in, dig it again...has a very Sisyphus feel to it. I also likes that he connects the hourglass to kids' boardgames - it doesn't get more wholesome or American than that does it? And they are actually playing Axis vs. Allies the night before the War is starting...another reminder that they are just kids.

I really like the whole part about him being appointed prayer leader, without any prayer - reminds me a lot of Catch 22 (my second favorite book of all time - you MUST read this book if you haven't - it is hilarious) as does the the sand hourglass stuff - in war, whatever doesn't make sense makes more sense. He also makes it a point to mention how religion cannot exist in the military, but how many leaders fight wars and make military decisions based on their religious beliefs - pretty insightful - but isn't there also that saying "There are no atheists in foxholes?" I meant fighting holes sorry.

Finally I have to weigh in on the whole field-fuck scene and say that I disagree that it is this angry, intense thing. I mean the guy on the bottom is laughing and cracking jokes about the guys pretending to screw him. I think it really is just a product of being in an over authoratative environment with little freedom, and these guys are just kids. Any opportunity to get back at a superior, to actually hold some power over them is priceless...and often comes in very childish forms...come on, lighten up...BS

Brewster's Millions

In honor of all the drunken shenanigans in Jarhead, I brewed some beer this weekend to put my recollectional skills to the test - how's that for a connection to the text? I've been brewing beer for about a year and a half now for no good reason other than people seem to get excited when you tell them you have a bunch of homemade beer and they should come over and drink it. I won't lie. I do harbor dreams of becoming the next Brooklyn Brewery(did you know there are 9 million people and only four breweries in all of NYC) but for now I have no investors, no space, no original handcrafted, perfected recipes - just a bunch of thirsty, cheap friends. That's not to say our friendship is cheap, but rather they prefer alcohol of the inexpensive variety.

Over the weekend I brewed a Pale Ale and and an Amber Ale and will be brewing a Bourbon Porter later this week. Which brings us to the current predicament - what to name these beers, what does the label look like? Furthermore - what should I name the brewery that will one day be known world-wide? I used to live a few blocks from the Gowanus Canal and my former roommate and I brewed beer under the fake name Gowanus Brewery. Previous beers have been named things like Phyrst Batch Ale, Indians Pale Ale (I'm a Cleveland Indians fan), Brooklyn Bitter,

Amber Alert Ale, Gowanus Wheat, Giant Patriot Ale (for last years' superbowl), O'Gwanus Stout and McWanus Red Ale (for St. Patty's day), Sashaberry Summer Ale (for my girlfriend Sasha's B-day), you get the point. Long story short - I live in a new place where I no longer have to listen to my roommate talk about beers like a lover "It has a strong backbone, potent character, and soft, fruity mouthfeel." So I need a new name for the new Brewery. I live near the corner of President & Henry St. so my only idea so far is President Henry Ales, but I think its kinda lame - Any suggestions?

Also, I want to put it out there that I would like to brew a 21st Century Lit Class Beer to be drunkened on the last day of class. I will brew whatever people suggest - SO WHAT KIND OF BEER DO YOU LIKE?

BS

Putting ink stick to shit paper...other Jarhead thoughts

Why did Swofford choose to put the Ezra Pound, Canto LXXII quote in the beginning?

I think its interesting he admits to not remembering dates, locations, battles, deployments, weapon capabilities, etc. and has looked a lot of information up, some using federal sights and resources. I wonder if he had kept an accurate journal during the war if any of his info would have contradicted with government publications 8 years later?

Double standards aren't breaking news obviously, but all these guys talk about is the unfaithfulness of their wives/girlfriends, yet their own unfaithfulness is simply treated as a given right or not even seen as unfaithfulness, but just what Marines do.

For as macho as these guys are they are very comfortable with pretending to screw each other.

One of the most interesting scenes is with the German girls on the way to visit Charlie Manson's house...I'm not sure what to think of it, but the girls' comments are obviously disturbing, we start to get some more reflective viewpoints on war from Swofford, and is the only reason he doesn't beat the Germans up because he's not plastered at a bar for once?

Do you think Fergus was arrested for murder after the publication of this book? Also very interesting why Swofford tells the stories about him.

For some reason I love the scene of Yumiko getting picked up by the cook and boyfriend at the Military barracks at 6am, not sure why...

I wonder how much of the knowledge and resentment of Dick Cheney, Saudi Oil Princes, the Pre-fab base he actually had during the war and how much is him processing his thoughts in the 8 years post war and working that into his character.

Can anyone really drink as much as he says they drink? Anyway, they're always drunk...always. Does this affect the accuracy of any of his recollections?

It's amazing that he considers an extra $120 a month for combat pay a waste of taxpayer money, when no one has died yet.

I like the idea that to be a good Marine you have to love and hate the Marines. I think this idea partially explains why he goes back and forth between wanting to be a Marine and not, wanting to excel/move up in rank and not really caring, though I definitely still feel unsure about his overall motivations and what he truly cares about, maybe some actual combat will help...BS

Camp Jarhead

I'm definitely into Jarhead so far. I don't think that it drips machismo, or is the simple memoir of a marine meathead. I think Swofford does a pretty good job of giving us an honest look at his experiences, and also does a decent job of slowly drawing us in to a very private, guarded, jargoned, strange existence with some solid insights along the way. Sure there is a lot of talk about PI prostitutes, and unfaithful wives, but I wouldn't consider it random explicitness. There is usually a point or at least a logical reason that these things are mentioned.

So far, and I realize the war has not started yet, Swofford also makes the Marines sound kind of fun. I know that sounds crazy, even as I type it, but its true. Sure no one wants to stir burning shit or get their head slammed through a chalkboard, but the camaraderie, the personalities, the tomfoolery, if you will, really comes through on the page. I would love to hear even more about the weird idiosyncrosies, personality and even physical descriptions of the other guys in his platoon a la Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. Although we get a few random post war anecdotes about his buddies, Swofford hasn't really gotten so specific about his platoonmates during the war yet. He starts to do this a little when Siek brings the new guys to join STA, hopefully he gives us some more in the second half.

It sounds a little nuts, but for anyone that's ever been to sleepaway camp, gone through training camp for a sports team, been back-country hiking/camping, or driven across the country - creatively getting out of shit-burning detail, playing a footaball game in 140 degree weather, funny nicknames, running all night-long, lamenting over unfaithful girlfriends, hazing the rookies - these things are not so far/strange/different from some of my fondest memories of the previously mentioned activites. I'm not saying he's convinced me to enlist, but I can see why people do. I also must say sarcastic humor/beratement of the military superiors e.g. Siek yelling at Swofford after the failed wake-up call, absloutely cracks me up. And the whole field fuck scene was hilarious - reporters watching, seargeants trying to impress the higher ups, so great. It reminds me of being young and stupid and not caring about how mature you seemed, but just enjoying making the best out of bad situations, teachers, authorities...Let's all be kids again and join the Marines!...BS.

Class in the 21st Century

I have now had sufficient time to process the experience of last week's class, and my system is still on complete sensory overload. I don't mean to sound like the crotchety Old Man River in his sagging tighty whities moaning from his front porch about staying off the grass, but as someone who started college in the 20th century I must say...wow, that class was intense, uncomfortable, unique, and something that deserves the title "21st century literature class" regardless of what century the literature came from. Maybe I have been out of the game too long, only taking one night class a year for the last five years or so. Maybe night classes in general just seem to lend themselves toward an odd mix of 18 to 65 year old disinterested awkwardness (Jaime, Jose - last semester Shakespeare?). Or maybe its just the fact that acting out scenes that involve wives with strap-ons taking mistresses from behind in hell that tends to get the ball rolling a little faster.

I said sensory overload earlier because I felt like I was hit with violent images (9/11 over and over and over and over), read very graphic, intense imagery (yes, the doggy style scene), watched gender-bending performances between total strangers (don't lie - you were a little uncomfortable too), and listened to some conversations, arguments that got us to priests molesting little boys. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to have to write a blog, that I was going to get to read a Brooklyn graffiti battle... (are we going to visit the actual works in their original environment? I think we should and would be willing to set up the itinerary complete with a playlist for the train ride... and while we're on the topic - no MC battles to read/listen to - I would say that there are a few that would have to be considered, no? but I digress)...and that the ladies in the registrars office weren't just f***'n with me, the professor's name really is John Lennon. Well thank you all for the experience. I am more intrigued/interested than I think I've ever been to see what the next installment has in store . I'm excited to get to participate more this time...BS.