Need something to watch after binge-watching season 4 of Arrested Development but before the release of Thor: The Dark World? Check out this clip of “Thorested Development” by OnlyLeigh. Saw it posted at Robot 6 this afternoon and quite enjoyed it. AD running gags abound.
The folks over at The Rabbit Room are streaming songs from Andy Gullahorn’s new album throughout the day. I’ve had a digital copy of the collection for a few days, and it plays well. Beyond the Frame is a collection of songs that Gullahorn has written for his friends over the past few years. I forget that there are still phrases to be turned in music, and then I hear Gullahorn at his best and remember. Adding one song per hour throughout the day, the Rabbit Room is also posting a short commentary for each track. Go to The Rabbit Room and enjoy the first three songs of the album, including one of my favorites: “The Surface of Things.”
It’s been a great week in the world of quality music. Derek Webb did a digital release of his upcoming album, I Was Wrong, I’m Sorry, and I Love You. Then Andrew Osenga’s Kickstarter project closed well ahead of it baseline, so he released a few new songs to supporters. And it turns out that Andy Gullahorn has a new album dropping in a few days and available for purchase at the Rabbit Room. Here’s one of the songs from his new album, Beyond the Frame. “Skinny Jeans” is in the same vein as songs like “Green Hills Mall” and “She Puts Her Money Where Her Mouth Is.” Quality musical satire.
It’s one thing for TV Guide to make a big deal about the tenth anniversary of The O.C. But Grantland? That caught me by surprise.
It seems like every entertainment website has been mentioning the tenth anniversary of The O.C.‘s debut on Fox on August 5, 2003. It’s sort of interesting when a show gets this much attention, however fleeting, and more so when it’s a teen drama that lasted for four seasons. But there it was: a nice collection of OC-inspired reflections at Grantland.com. You’ve got Tom Carson’s “Ten Years Gone” and an article on the show’s impact on indie rock and even a staff-wide reflection collection. Then Grantland-Master Bill Simmons got into the game and I realized that he was in on the show big-time from the very beginning. But it’s Andy Greenwald’s article on the show that I enjoyed the most.
I have only vague memories of the show’s first season. It was one of the few new shows on when I first moved to Hawaii. I knew about it’s indie music sensibilities. I was surprised to see a show start a season a good number of episodes before the fictional school year actually started. After reading Greenwald’s article, I watched the first couple of episodes again and enjoyed them. The show is often viewed as being about welcoming in the stranger, which is a big part of the show (what Greenwald considers the initial hook of the show). But I really like his take on what the show evolved into: being on the outside even when you’re on the inside:
The core of The O.C. was about protecting the fragile Cohen household — led by Peter Gallagher’s liberal lawyer Sandy and his warm shiksa wife, Kirsten, played by Kelly Rowan — from the cynical creep of commercialism and spirit-deadening cushion of privilege that surrounded it on all sides.
In the midst of all this talk, no one has overlooked the fact that the show lost a lot of its zip after the first season and almost never got it back (almost, mind you). But the beginning, like a handful of other shows, started strong and idealistic and hopeful. And that’s worth remembering. Greenwald concludes his look back with commentary on a set visit and the beauty of television:
The O.C. was a show, and an experience, about growing up — especially behind the camera even as things were falling apart in front of it. Now that I write about TV full-time, I often think of that first set visit as a reminder that everything on the air is personal to somebody, even if the specific material isn’t, and that much of what we fall in love with on TV is really just the hope and promise of beginnings. On soap operas, as in real life, the start of something is always brighter and better than the eventual slow fade of endings. What unites those who make television with those who watch it is just how cruel and great the medium can be, often at the same time; how it greets you with a smile only to inevitably punch you in the face.
Beginnings and endings and ten years passing. If nothing else, it’s good to remember the promise of things, even if what comes next is something like that punch in the face.
2011’s reboot of The Muppets might have been just sort of miraculous. The music was great. The plot had fresh twists on a classic trope: the comeback. And there was enough of an edge that it fit well with most of The Muppet Show. Yesterday Disney posted the first trailer for the next movie, Muppets Most Wanted. While it’s sad that Jason Segel and Amy Adams won’t be back, Tina Fey and crew should help keep that manic Muppet style.
I keep posting things about Derek Webb’s upcoming album. It’s available for pre-order Tuesday morning at derekwebb.com, which is great. It just seems rare these days for someone to write music that can mean something, which is a sweeping generalization, I know. While I haven’t been a huge fan of his last few albums, I have great respect for him and his craft. This other new song, “Everything Will Change,” is brilliant in the best possible way.
I purchased a copy of Kevin Powers’ The Yellow Birds after Dave Eggers recommended it in Huck Magazine a couple of months ago. It’s a bit of a departure for me, reading a war novel. On top of that, it’s been a while since I really made a point of reading newer fiction. Still, a recommendation by Eggers is about as good as they come.
The Yellow Birds tells the story of Bartle and Murphy, two privates serving in Al Tafar, Iraq. Both are young. In an unguarded moment, Bartle promises Murphy’s mother that he will bring her son home safely. The novel is the story of how that didn’t happen. The story is told in two timelines, alternating between the events leading up to Murph’s death and the events that happen to Bartle after Murph’s death.
I know absolutely nothing about the reality of war, but I’d like to think that I know a little bit about good writing. The Yellow Birds is written well. It’s the kind of book you wish high school seniors could read . . . except for the rough language and gruesome imagery. It handles issues of youth and honor and friendship extremely well. It reads so clearly, almost like non-fiction. The novel’s narrative is one of the most articulate and honest voices I’ve read in a good while. From the book’s fifth chapter (Richmond, VA):
Clouds spread out over the Atlantic like soiled linens on an unmade bed. I knew, watching them, that if in any given moment a measurement could be made it would show how tentative was my mind’s mastery over my heart. Such small arrangements make a life, and though it’s hard to get close to saying what the heart is, it must at least be that which rushes to spill out of those parentheses which were the beginning and the end of my war: the old life disappearing into the dust that hung and hovered over Nineveh even before it could be recalled and longed for young and unformed as it was, already broken by the time I reached the furthest working of my memory. I was going home.
You can read more about Kevin Powers at his website. You can also read some of his thoughts about reading and writing in this article recently posted in the New York Times Sunday Book Review. If you do read the book, let me know. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.
Every now and then someone asks me what book or movie someone should read or watch if they wanted to understand me. Usually I’d say read The Lord of the Rings or watch Fight Club (well, for the late 90s me). I might say a novel by Douglas Coupland or a movie by M. Night Shyamalan. Now I can direct them to a letter over at the Leadership Journal.
A few days ago I posted a link to Rachel Held Evans’ article on why Millennials are leaving the church. A couple of weeks ago, Fritz Liedtke posted a “letter” at the Leadership Journal titled “Is This All There Is?” In many ways, it reads like my version of RHE’s Millennial concern. You can read the whole “letter” here. Be sure to read it to the end.
I appreciate Liedtke’s sense of gratitude towards “the church” for all that it has done for him. I also appreciate his candor in admitting where he feels abandoned, how he felt used up, how he isn’t quite sure how to reassert himself in church life. I understand that. A few months ago I left the Sunday school class that I had taught for a couple of years (and been a member of for most of my time in Hawaii). I found that I had no place to go. I found myself sitting alone in service constantly. I did not want to complain, but I knew that I couldn’t keep on doing what I was doing. Turns out the only thing harder than walking away for a while might be finding a good way to walk back in.
Quality quotes:
I wish there were more of a lot of things, but mostly, I wish there were more opportunities to encounter God. I also wish there were more people ahead of me on the path. After 40 years of sermons and studies, I don’t really need any more knowledge right now. I can’t even really hear the preaching anymore. What I need are spiritually deep mentors. Not just theologically deep, but spiritually deep. Not that they’re mutually exclusive, but there seems to be a difference. . .
I need leaders who actually deeply experience God, who deeply know him, not just about him, so that they can help me deeply know him too.
As with the RHE piece, the comments following the article are interesting (and in this case, more encouraging). I strongly encourage you to give the article and the comments a look.
One of my favorite parts of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey was the time spent in Rivendell. It was nice seeing the interplay between Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel, seeing them smile and enjoy each other’s company as they moved across the screen. So I’m glad that one of the first scenes from the movie’s extended version showcases a little more of that, this time between Bilbo and Elrond.
The extended-version DVD drops November 5. We all get to return to Middle Earth for the next installment of the story in December.
The commencement address of author George Saunders recently made its way onto the internet. He takes on the issues of selfishness and kindness and does them justice in just under twelve minutes (which is a great length for a graduation speech). We would all do well to “err in the direction of kindness.”
If you’d rather read it, the New York Times has posted a copy of the speech here.
Space Enough, and Time 