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  • Short Story Review: “The Boy Upstairs” by Joshua Ferris

    (The short story “The Boy Upstairs” by Joshua Ferris appeared in the June 6th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Just a slight hint of SPOILERS this time around.)

    I think it was Robert Altman who said that all stories have a philosophical viewpoint, which can be as simple as supporting or challenging the status quo. I was almost a philosophy major, I read the important books by important thinkers, and would say that I was more in the classical mode of thinking, and not so much with the Modern thought. I was always saddened when people viewed philosophy as a waste of time, something that had no relevance in the world. So, anytime I come across a writer who infuses a philosophical question into the plot of a story, it makes me excited that there are people still asking those questions.

    Joshua Ferris did that with the short story “The Boy Upstairs.” It’s a little philosophy and a little Book of Job all rolled into one. The protagonist is only referred to as “she” and what we learn about she is that she is an adjunct philosophy professor who is married but has no children. It is hinted that she is a person who is not all good. A friend, who is researching in Antarctica, first texts her that they need to speak. Her first thought is that her secrets are about to be revealed. When her friend does call, it is to tell her that he thinks their mutual friend’s son has committed suicide at twelve years old. Her first reaction is relief that the call was not about her secrets, but then she begins to feel guilty for feeling that way. Then she has a thought that she would be willing to be humiliated if that meant her friend could have her son back. Thus, starts a chain of events that leads to a climax that consists of a question.

    As stated before, I’m a sucker for any story that touches on a question that is even slightly in the realm of philosophy, and I would chalk this story up to that. A question is asked, events happen, and then ending is left for the reader to interpret based on how they answered the first question and viewed the events. I find this stuff fun, and I do like the way Ferris structured the story. Yet, I still couldn’t shake this feeling of being dissatisfied. I have been thinking about it for two days, and I’m still not sure what it is that is causing this feeling in me. I guess I could say the structure of the story was a bit academic and predictable, but at the same time, to ask these questions, the story gets locked into this structure. I could also say it’s the open-ended climax, but as I stated earlier, I feel the ending needed to allow each reader to bring their perspective to the story. Or, it could be that the story was written to ask a question that was to leave me feeling dissatisfied no matter what answer I came up with. All of that can be true and wrong at the same time.

    See, I’m a sucker for philosophy.  

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Oh, That’s How I Got Here

    A good thing happened this morning, which was that the 2022/2023 school year calendar was released. It is an event that I need to happen so we could plan our summer and fall.

    And that was also the moment that I confirmed to myself that I am a different person from the one who moved to NYC in 2006. It’s been sixteen years; I would hope that I would change some. I would hate to think that almost two decades would go by and I would be a stagnate individual.

    But as I got out of the subway at 96th to walk over to the Trader Joe’s, I did spend a second thinking about that guy who got off a plan in Newark, and what he hoped to accomplish, and why he didn’t accomplish it.

    When I moved, I had been out of college for five years, and had a very modest bit of succus in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area theatre scene through acting and directing. I was moving to New York to continue that pursuit, which I did. I acted in a few very little things, and directed a play here and there. And as all of that was happening, I feel in with a crowd of puppeteers, and really started getting inspired by that work. I had some pretty respectable successes in that line of work, earned some real money as a performer, did some really great work on some amazing productions, and made some really great friends. And while that was going on, I feel in love and got married, and started a family. I started working and running rehearsal studios, and then wanted to try my hand at arts admin. I can admit now that arts admin wasn’t right for me. Maybe it was the companies I worked for, maybe it was me, but the bottom line is that it wasn’t the right fit. And now, I take care of my daughter and support my wife’s career. I doodle pictures, and work at writing. It’s not where I thought I would be, but I’m also not unhappy either.

    Things change. Attitudes change. Ambitions and desires change. The only constant in life is change.

    I always thought I was one of those people whose life was a straight as an arrow path, such as I knew what I wanted to do. But looking back at the last twenty years, it’s been anything but.

    I am a guy who looks forward to school year calendars.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • It’s Time to Cut Stuff Out

    So, ah, I have been going to the gyp for four months now. Not a whole lot has changed. I have dropped 8 pounds, and my legs look toned and muscular. Outside of that, nothing has changed.

    In fact, I went out shopping this weekend to buy some new shorts, and I had to move up to the 32″ waist. Yup, in four months, my stomach got bigger.

    So, something is outta wack.

    My belly, is a beer belly. Or, if you are trying to be cute, one might call it a Dad Bod, but that sounds gross and icky and trying too hard to be trendy. I have a beer and ice cream belly. To be specific, it is a bourbon and ginger ale, and late night ice cream beer belly. I have to admit that I have two habits that are working against me.

    It’s June, which is a month that I normally take off from drinking, so that will be an easy adjustment. But, I need to start to look at my relationship with drinking. Ask the hard questions as to why I do it, what am I getting out of it, and is it masking something that I don’t want to deal with. Those are tough, and serious questions.

    The ice cream, on the other hand is an easy one. I am a late night snacker. I like to raid the fridge before I go to bed, and being that we are about to start summer, I have been buying a lot of ice cream. Most of it is ending up in my stomach, which then attaches to my stomach. I mean, I do have some other bad eating habits if I am being honest, but the ice cream really is the crown jewel of my gluttony. Sure, the roots of my drinking might be deep and dark, and deserve real introspection, but the reason for ice cream is easy; it tastes good and makes me feel really good. Sure, my family sees me drinking, but the ice cream is a secret that only happens when I am alone late at night watching old movies or MST3k.

    The point here people, if I want to see more results, and actually get to feeling better, which is still alluding me, then I need to make some additional changes to my health, and admit that I need to cut some things out.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Memorial Day

    Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

    Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

    But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

    Abraham Lincoln
    November 19, 1863

  • ODDS and ENDS: Kids are Back, Doomsday DJ, and Protect Kids and Not Guns

    (Is that a flying pig in the sky?)

    I have started watching The Kids in the Hall’s new season in Amazon. As with all of these nostalgia reboots of stuff from the 80’s and 90’s, some fall rather flat, and leave you wondering why it needed to be rebooted in the first place. (Looking at you Fresh Prince.) First of all, I don’t think The Kids in the Hall are a reboot, as it feels like a solid continuation of the original show. Second, The Kids are just as biting and internal as they have ever been. Yes, they are older, but that alt/punk subversive vibe is still there. Their humor was never topical, and their best stuff always had to do with the relationship between characters.

    Which brings me to “Doomsday DJ” a darkly humorous bleak sketch with just Dave Foley and Melanie’s 1971 hit “Brand New Key.” Though the sketch, which is in three parts and the clip is only the first, takes place in a world where DNA bombs have fallen and destroyed just about everybody on the planet, it has an eerie present feeling to it. Was the sketch’s creation influenced by the Trump years and Covid isolation? Clearly, yes. But man, Foley’s expression of desperation and loss with his eyes becoming unfocused, only to snap back to reality to do his “job” on the radio. I think everyone can relate to a similar feeling during the lockdown, watching tv on the couch, and wondering, “Is this really how it will all end?” The Kids tapped into a zeitgeist in the culture that I don’t think anyone has been able to express correctly. I know I said above that they don’t do topical jokes, and I hold to that, because the joke here is the internal struggle of the character to continue in the face of ultimate doom. Amazingly, we all know what that feels like, and now we see you can make fun of it.

    Protect Kids and Not Guns.

    Protect Kids and Not Guns.

    Protect Kids and Not Guns.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)