Undercovers

Despite Woodward's grand metaphysical proclamations about future states of mind, he and his generation of medical men never gave up on the power of modern medicine to cure the most unusual of mental and physical maladies. Sleepwalkers did not constitute a large portion of the patients who passed through his asylum, or through other asylums run by the same principles of the moral treatment, but correcting problematic sleep remained a major concern of early psychiatry. Asylums were, as the great sociologist Erving Goffman put it, "total institutions"―enclosed spaces like ships and prisons (and, one might add, slave plantations)―in which a group of individuals led their lives cut off from society, and which had to be formally administered 24/7. Such spaces, wrote Goffman, break down a general rule of modern society: that individuals "sleep, play, and work in different places." There were individual bedrooms in insane asylums―Goffman's chief example of a total institution―but sleep was hardly private there. Bedroom doors typically had a window facing the corridor, and patients knew they were subject to being watched by the medical staff at all hours. As such, asylums like the one in which Jane Rider found herself served to enforce society's rules, including the one demanding that sleep must be done in an orderly way, straight through the night, in private: those who could not manage this fundamental expectation of civilization had to have their sleep tamed.

The above passage is from Benjamin Reiss's Wild Nights: How Taming Sleep Created Our Restless World. Reiss is an English professor rather than a doctor or a social scientist, but don't let that dissuade you. He really pursues the history of sleep in the modern world, from the increased structuring of sleep during the Industrial Revolution―and let's face it, everything got more regimented then―to the endemic loss of sleep in the age of social media. He's also lived and worked on a kibbutz, where young people become accustomed to sleeping with much less privacy.

There's an extensive chapter on Henry David Thoreau. Let me tell you, Thoreau seems to have been quite the scold, and even I might have had trouble getting along with him, despite certain similarities in personality and value. He was also a fascinating and perceptive thinker.

Sylvan/urban

Blackstone Boulevard is a long street, located in Providence, not far from the city line where you'd cross into Pawtucket. The narrow strip in the middle is a kind of park. Well, definitely a park at the end that abuts Hope Street, where you'll see a statue and a playground. The rest is grass, trees, dirt, with the occasional bench and a few shelters.

This is not what people usually think of as getting back to nature. Walking it you see traffic on either side of you. Houses as well. But in terms of getting you out of yourself, it does the job.

Shakey gave a party that lasted all night

Was just at the home of a friend of mine. He and his wife threw a Memorial Day cookout. Mostly we were indoors. Anyway they were there, their kids, the eldest son's girlfriend and her mother: the list of guest stars goes on. It was nice.

Along with good food there were also some fine spirits served. When I got home I drank a fair amount of water so I don't wake up dehydrated tomorrow. One learns.

Hung out with the dogs, too, one of which really liked to be scratched. As far as I know this does not carry a risk of hangover.

Lookout

Just looking out the window at night can be a centering activity. Maybe there's very little to see. After a certain point at night you won't see much of anyone on the street. Well, probably not. But while hustle and bustle can be fun to watch, it's not everything. Trees, the shadows of trees. Lights in the distance. There is beauty in things just being there.

Mutant energy

There's a kind of TV episode where they just say "screw everything" and confront the viewer with pure weirdness. Often it's produced on cult shows where the creators realize the audience isn't growing and they're near cancellation, although sometimes it's an expression of confidence at the other end of the scale. "Fall Out", the final episode of Patrick McGoohan's The Prisoner might be the archetypical example, and would certainly seem to be one of the earliest.

Legion is a show that starts out in this mode, from the very first shot of the first scene of the first episode. From what I've seen so far it never lets up. How well this works is subjective, and I'm still working it out for myself. It is colorful and fun to look at, certainly.

That initial scene, by the way, is a montage following a boy from cheerful infancy through troubled and picked-on adolescence to a suicide attempt as a young adult, all set to the Who's "Happy Jack." (Irony!) Throughout the rest of the first episode he's in or around an asylum called "Clockworks" that looks like Stanley Kubrick dreamed it up.

The root of David Haller's mounting despair is a mind that torments him with awful visions, and voices that incessantly speak to him and him alone. These voices are diagnosed as multiple personalities, although in one episode his sister characterizes him as a schizophrenic, a once-common mistake. Moot point, though. David's visions aren't simply a symptom of mental illness. He's a telepath and reality warper, one of the world's most powerful mutants.

As you may or may not guess, this show derives from the Marvel Universe. In the comic book continuity Haller a.k.a. Legion is the son of X-Men founder Charles Xavier. There are nods to this background in the show, for example circular windows that look like x'es. That said, we're not in MCU blockbuster territory here. The show's closest relatives are Mr. Robot and the violent, claustrophobic fantasia that was Hannibal. Taking spandex material and subjecting it to this arty, "is any of this happening?" approach is something you do when mass audiences have become a thing of the past.

It can be interesting. And I think there is a point. I said earlier that the lead character is a powerful mutant, even if he thinks he's insane. But that might be a distinction without a difference, especially in the way he's treated. The X-Men comics' narrative of mutants as persecuted minority is applied to the impersonal treatment mentally ill people often get. Which can lead to disastrous results.

Bring the noise

This little bit of avian-automotive impersonation is something I didn't know about until today. But it's good news, really. It's no secret that we've had a pretty heavy and not always positive effect on the environment. Animals that are attuned to technological change and can mimic it have a survival advantage.

Oh, and one might think the mockingbird frequents a rough neighborhood. But car alarms are so sensitive, I wouldn't assume so.

Surp-

Nobody is right about everything. Which means that the capacity to be surprised does everyone good. Everyone who cultivates it.

Fortunately some surprises are good. (That still goes, right? N.B. check on that part.)

Lone Star, meet Sunshine

Hmm. Lots to think about, and I am thinking.

A very cool and lovely couple I know recently gifted me with―among other things―a DVD copy of the movie The Florida Project, which I've certainly heard good things about. And Willem Dafoe is never boring, at the very least. Meanwhile from the library I have a copy of Richard Linklater's Slacker, which I'm going to watch tonight before I have to take it back. Set, I believe, in Austin where the director is from. So I look forward to learning more about life in the two largest Southern states.

Merci, mon amis.

Self-constructed enclosures

The first novel in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, a fantasized version of the Wars of the Roses, came out in 1996, nearly a quarter century ago. Its TV adaptation Game of Thrones, is just coming to a close now, a finale drawing a lot of audience attention and no little agitation. The books continue. Taken together the books and show represent a sprawling narrative that Martin is known for almost exclusively now.

This is strange to me, because I had read some of his fiction before the series even started. He's been a quirky writer, penning humor-tinged stories in the fields of horror and science fiction along with fantasy, as well as some non-genre work. Almost none of which the bulk of his fans have any interest in.

He might not be inclined to complain about being pigeonholed. Telling a story on that scale and then selling it on that level raises you from struggling with rent or mortgage to being able to invest in a second or third home. Being read and watched by people who don't always see the full range of your talents could be a small price to pay. And to be sure he'd already tried to franchise himself, publishing the rather successful Wildcards series of superhero books in collaboration with other authors.

Still, it does seem limiting. Decades ago Steve Martin grew tired of audiences at his stand-up shows demanding he do well-known material from his albums and Saturday Night Live appearances. He wasn't in it to repeat catch phrases. So he walked away from stand-up and has only made recent, intermittent returns to live comedy. Of course it transpired that he didn't need to be a stand-up comic to make a living.

Going out to all the sugarplum fairies

I actually saw the glass harp being played once up close. It was a street musician in the Big Easy. Awe-inspiring. Something about it animated the night. So yes, I find this behavior something to be encouraged.

whee

Just a couple of days ago it was still cool enough in the mornings for the radiator to click on. You hear complaints about that. Not from me, though. Take a jacket and sweater and you'll be fine.

Today it was hot enough for a while that I had the window open and the ceiling fan going. There are no temperature-altering devices in use now, but we're on that crazy ride.

Waiting & after

There are times when public transportation is delayed. By like a lot. And of course when the vehicle finally arrives for you it's a relief. But frustration builds up before that.

Some drivers are better about this than others. That is, they don't necessarily apologize for something that may not be at all their fault, but they acknowledge the inconvenience, give some kind of reassurance. I don't think this helps with all  riders. But it is a mark of grace under pressure, and some of us appreciate it.

Right before your eyes

The picture above depicts something called the yuktuktaak, or snow goggles. I encountered these reading Living Our Cultures, Sharing Our Heritage, a book derived from a Smithsonian Institution exhibit. They're a product of the Iñupiaq, an indigenous people from Northwestern Alaska.

Glare from snow or ice can be pretty blinding. The way most of us would deal with it now are with tinted goggles made from glass or plastic. But for most of history in Alaska these materials would be hard to come by or non-existent.

Thus the snow goggles are made out of wood, but have narrow slits to see out with. They allow enough vision but still block out ultraviolet radiation.

Definitely ingenious, and I imagine encountering a group of hunters all wearing these would be quite a sight.

Wictorian vit

It's taken me some time, but while I've always liked Gilbert & Sullivan, I might just get them now. How the humor in their songs is tied to bathos. The way the chorus swells behind authority figures, repeating and blaring their every banality because that's just what you do. I swear, every time they stand looking dead serious and sing "his sisters and his cousins and his aunts!" it gets funnier.

Mental activity

At the end of the day there's a jumble of thoughts. Some are good, some not so good. Some you don't even need to label. But like I said, a jumble. One by one they still themselves. There's like, one last ember before you go to sleep.

You understand this, don't you?

Steps and lessons

Those MasterClass ads are weird. If you've watched enough YouTube videos you've probably seen a few, or at least the starts of them. It's basically a set of online tutorials that are supposed to take the place of an extension school class. The twist is that the teachers are famous for what they do. Like, really famous. Helen Mirren on acting. Carlos Santana on guitar. A number of people, including Margaret Atwood and Dan Brown, on writing fiction. Among novelists I'd say I have more regard for the former than the latter, but honestly you'd think it would be hard to get either to commit the time.

There's a hitch, though. You'd expect these folks to know what they're talking about. And sometimes some solid advice even can be found on the ads, which are, after all, freebies. For example, Steve Martin telling beginning comics not to start their act with banal pleasantries on the order of "how you doing tonight": seems solid. But learning is an interactive venture. Interactive in the way life is, not the way the Internet is. One begins to suspect that the celebrity instructors are a distraction from the fact that you spend money―exactly how much I couldn't tell you―and in return are not able to ask questions or collaborate with your fellow students.

Then there's David Lynch. Seems pretty qualified to lead you through the world of film making, doesn't he? Well, yes and no. He has, in the past, directed some real attention-getters. But that's definitely the past. He hasn't directed a feature film since Inland Empire in 2006, which is as insular and as focused on diehard fans as the shorts he's been doing since. Like Francis Ford Coppola and a few others, he's a veteran who gave up analog for digital a while back, but then gradually gave up everything else too. And yes, yes, Twin Peaks is back, but that's a gimme.

By this report, his own MasterClass is short on practical stuff you can use. If you're a beginning director it's going to be some time before working with Kyle Maclachlan is an option. And you'll never get to work with Dennis Hopper at all, unless he froze his head and the cryogenics people can revive him. In addition, it sounds like his teaching style is...well it isn't one.

If you're a fan with some disposable income, you still might find it worthwhile. But more because the man himself is engagingly weird, the ultimate David Lynch character.