Charles Martin's Blog, page 5

An Exegetical Approach to Lyrics by Marty Peercy, Doctor of Philosophy

(Editor’s Note: In celebration of the Netflix release of Fuller House, we are reposting this piece originally unleashed on the public consciousness in February of 2014.)

There’s an old joke popular with those of us experts in the field of semiotics:

Q: When is a door not a door?

A: When it is opened unto you and you take the time to peer inside and find it is far more than a simple door, it is a portal unto a hidden world rich with meaning, a land where signal is sign and if p, then q!

Haha. A classic.

But as with many of our pithy comments, it’s funny because of the essential truth it masks. The joke is in the question.

A door is never a door, you see.

Never is this more obvious than when listening to the lyrics of common songs. Allow me to take you on a journey into the depths of one of these.

I submit for you the theme song of the hit television series Full House.

The focus of the program is a non-traditional, non-nuclear family we know as the Tanners. A widower and his three daughters, his departed wife’s brother, and his bizarre friend Joey. They live in an incredibly expensive house in San Francisco, where Danny- the show’s hero- is a local television personality. While their lives are far from simple (we do join the action after the tragic death of the family’s matriarch), they live a happy and mostly harmonious life together.

Or so it seems.

Something much darker is happening behind the scenes. Theirs is not the happy, sun-shiny life we see on the screen. That is the carefully constructed myth of normalcy they wish their neighbors and friends and coworkers to observe. Their reality, however, is one of tragic death, mysterious disappearances, and crippling addiction. This is a story of the struggle of recovery.

 

Let us turn now to the lyrics of the theme.

 

“Whatever happened to predictability?”

Yes. Middle America’s favorite lie. “We have control, we have brought order from the chaos of our consumer slide. We are not careening into the crevasse of our hungers.” The speaker (speakers?) of these lines seems to recall a time that did not exist. He mourns the loss of an idea that never reached fruition. He was sold, as an American child, a bill of goods.

 

“The Milkman? The Paperboy?”

Perhaps the most chilling questions ever to be posed in American television. Whatever did happen to these two neighborhood fixtures? And what was their significance?

Every morning your home is visited by these two male figures.

One, the Milkman, comes to the back door, taking away empty vessels and leaving your family renewed with the vigor of wholeness. Milk. What could be so pure? All mammals are nourished by milk in our infancy. But look closer. Humans have made a mockery of that simple stage of development by creating an industry of it. We hunger so for this rich beverage that we have enslaved other animals to our purpose. Look closer. No other animal drinks the milk of another species, much less forces them into vast factories of extraction of that which by natural law is for the nourishment of their own young. The Milkman is akin to the diamond merchant, delivering to us the fruits of a sinister system of unpaid labor to satisfy our rank passions.

Now. Consider the Paperboy. Riding on his Huffy bicycle up and down the streets of our neighborhood in the dark and early hours of each day, bringing to us news of the world beyond our sleepy streets. He is the rosy-cheeked broker of information. But why? Look closer. He comes when you are unaware, flinging the truth of a broken world directly at your front door. He brings to you that which will stain your peace of mind just as the newsprint stains your fingers. And he knows when you are not at home. He sees his deliveries piling up in your yard, becoming sodden after the rain. He bears witness to the disintegration of your potential knowledge and, satisfied, he pedals away.

Lyrically, we encounter these iconic masculine characters in a sullen attitude of regret. Note that the speaker asks the first question of this lyrical cycle as a full sentence, but not so the question of these two neighborhood familiars. He simply utters the signifiers that describe them only by their vocation, as though lost in a dreadful memory, “The milkman… the paperboy.”

“And evening TV.”

Imagine, if you will, the mounting tension: Scouring the nightly newscasts for mention of a grisly discovery near the train yards. An unidentified man in a white uniform, a boy of twelve with an empty canvas bag slung across his shoulder. Both brutally murdered. But no discovery is made. The newsman never mentions the two bodies. Days stretch into weeks. When will my sin be uncovered?

“You miss your old familiar friends, but”

The crucial word in this exchange is “familiar.” Not simply friends, but friends who are familiar. Friends you recognize and remember. Also the crucial word is “friends.” But what does the speaker(s) mean by this? Simple: We remember the faces of our dead. They are ever present with us. Clearly we can see that this phrase encompasses the swelling tide of guilt. There may have been no mention of these missing persons on the television news (and clearly no more newspapers are to be delivered again), but the news-wire of the mind is an endless reminder of deeds that can not be undone.

Also the crucial- and most sinister- word is “but.”

“Waiting just around the bend”

Indeed. The discovery is coming. The speaker herein declares and decries his certain capture.

And then these grisly images of a mind torn asunder by bloodlust and guilt; a detailed list of unimaginable horror, complete with echoed whispers of the accusing dead:

“Everywhere you look (everywhere)

There’s a heart (there’s a heart!)

A hand to hold on to.

Everywhere you look (everywhere)

There’s a face of somebody who needs you.”

Chilling.

“When you’re lost out there and you’re all alone

a light is waiting

to carry you home.”

But wait, thinks this monologuist, redemption may be found! This speaker seems to realize that his escape has been discovered. But as with Coleridge and his tale of Kubla Khan, the confessor of our chosen song is interrupted and leaves us only to guess at the source of this redemption.

Primary source material leads us to believe that the speaker’s redemption laid solely in their willingness to pretend at being a part (or a whole?) of a “normal” San Francisco family.

Chilling, indeed.

Doc Crimson, an Ape Human Hybrid, and Emotional Growth

Life has a funny way of throwing us curve balls. Some of us are able to roll with the punches and move on … and then there’s guys like Doc who just can’t seem to let go of anything, no matter how minuscule the offense. As the good doctor is dispensing his own brand of sadistic revenge upon a political analyst for making an unflattering remark, he’s given a life lesson that he will in all likely soon forget.

Introducing: Lydia, the Public Relations Director of the Crimson Corps … because that’s exactly what every evil organization needs!

Dear Literati: Doc Crimson Vs. Protein Shakes

Some time ago, we started a segment entitled, “Dear Literati” so that our audience can get our professional (and occasionally not-so-professional) opinions on a variety of subjects. One of our loyal followers asked, “Do supplements actually work?” To answer this question, we turned to our own scientific specialist for the answers: none other than Doc Crimson!

Women in War Zones

Women in War Zones

Opening reception February 5, 6-10 pm

Exhibition February 5-27

The Project Box

Paseo First Friday Art Walk

3003 Paseo, Oklahoma City

 

Women face adversity worldwide on a number of different fronts, whether institutionalized oppression, rape culture, or the ravages of civil war. Rather than dwelling on the struggle, Oklahoma City artist, Ebony Iman Dallas, has chosen to celebrate women who heal after being devastated by physical or emotional trauma with her new series entitled Women in War Zones.

Rarely do the subjects of Dallas’ paintings smile. As you would expect from a soldier in battle, their eyes express a gravity, a deep focus. But the vibrant colors that the artist uses to halo these women reveals their resiliency, joy and healing.

Malala Yousafzai’s sparkling eyes stare out of one of the paintings. Though she was shot by the Taliban for attending school in Pakistan, she went on to win Nobel Peace Prize in 2014 for her continued human rights advocacy for education and women. Another painting honors the Kurdish nationalist women soldiers, who are in a war against ISIS as well as fighting to regain gender equality in their society.

Several of her paintings find their inspiration closer to home. A solemn painting of a breast cancer survivor, her mastectomy revealed around swaths of joyful color hangs near another painting of a friend living with cystic fibrosis. After watching the developing trial of Daniel Holtzclaw—an Oklahoma City police officer convicted of raping thirteen black women while on duty—Dallas was inspired to create a painting called Thirteen Queens. Dallas was able to watch part of the trial in the courtroom and said she heard many things that didn’t make it to television.

“In the courtroom, so many horrible things were said about those thirteen women in order to discount their stories. They went through so much horror and were so brave. I wanted to send them healing and to let them know I saw strength in them.”

She shows me the painting of her eight-year-old niece, tentatively titled I Define Me. Her fears and worries for her niece are visible in the painting’s background through a collection of real newspaper headlines: rape, scandal and drugs. Although she worries about who her niece’s role models and influences will be in the future, the child in the painting looks proud and strong, with bright wings unfurled behind her.

Dallas has been finding ways to heal and connect others through art since college. While in graduate school in California, she became aware of the misunderstandings and prejudice between the African-American community and the African immigrant community. While studying in a coffee shop one day, she overheard insults traded between two members of these communities and was inspired to create a Pan-African Potluck. Food, poetry, art and music from all the communities in the area were invited to one place, providing an opportunity for the groups to get to know one another.

Dallas went on to found the Afrikanation Artists Organization in 2010 which connects artists in Ethiopia, Somalia and the U.S. through art exchange programs and advocacy events. These programs provide art education and supplies to young people in African countries and creates opportunities between people groups for cultural dialogue.  

“I am always looking for new lenses—new ways of seeing the world. I hope that art gives new lenses to other people, too.”

In the Women in War Zones series, Dallas may explore the many battlefronts women must survive across the world, but she refuses to allow her work to be mired in sorrow and dejection. Instead, she mirrors back the strength and hope of women who endure, heal, and thrive despite the odds set against them. When asked what healing looks like, Dallas said, “Finally being able to love again. To be open. This project was a healing process for me, and I hope it will be for others.”

 

How Not To Talk To Men About Sex

Men and women should read this post: Feministing, but for different reasons. A quick summary: a bisexual female is frustrated that some men she’s slept with in the past believe that sex is over once the man achieves orgasm, leading to the “orgasm gap” where men have more orgasms than women. This issue derives from a traditional view of sex that is primarily focused on male pleasure, which has been reinforced by politics, arts, and religion for thousands of years. The blogger draws on her experiences with women where sex was more of a mutual play and the goal was to keep the game going until both parties were thoroughly spent.

The blogger also mentions the biggest amateur mistake of all bad lovers, letting a partner go down on you without going down on them. If you do this, then you need to reconsider your game. Some people aren’t comfortable with oral sex and that’s fine. They shouldn’t be compelled to do it out of guilt, but there should always be a give and take. Find some other way to repay the favor.

The blogger makes an important point that anyone who wants to be good at sex should understand. The male orgasm is not the end goal, it is just a step along the way. Men should read this post to understand that sex isn’t about domination, rather good sex is a conversation. You listen. You respond. You adapt. You learn. Every person has their own kinks, so the trick to being a good lay is finding what works with the new partner(and sometimes that might be domination.) Seems like a sports metaphor would fit pretty well here, so here goes: if you view your sexual partner as playing for an opposing team, then you are probably bad at sex. If you view your partner as playing on the same team and the goal is learning how to adapt your unique styles to one another to achieve harmony, then you are probably good at sex. Does that work? We okay with that metaphor? Yes. Okay, let’s move on.

Women should also read the Feministing post because, as correct as her point may be, her execution was tone-deaf and counter-productive. We all bring a number of anxieties to sex. Every single one of us. Also, every single one of us starts out being really terrible at sex because it’s is just like any other skill. Playing a piano, swinging a bat, calculus, you have to suck before you get better. And, yes, I’m aware that’s what she said, let’s just move on.

Unlike baseball, music, or advanced mathematics, there is no formal training process for sex. There is only practice. If a particular partner was not fortunate enough to find a competent and patient mentor early on, all they are left with is porn to figure out what they hell they are doing wrong. And that is bad, clearly. When you encounter a bad lay, take into account that this person probably at least suspects that they are a bad lay. Their lack of skill may be the result of very negative experiences that have stunted their sexual growth. Male or female, if early introductions to sex were ugly and harmful, it’s difficult to come back from that. Telling a bad lay, as the blogger did, that former lovers were way better is not helpful. Not at all. Not one little bit. Shame will only engender bitterness and trepidation, making a bad lay even worse.

Instead, understand that this partner needs the mentorship someone once gave you. They also need a whole lot of patience to build up the confidence to try new things. This person doesn’t want to fail, so they stick with only the familiar. They don’t want to be adventurous because previous partners have made them feel incompetent, bizarre, and unattractive for it. Know this is a very real possibility, and adjust your tone accordingly.

If it turns out that the bad lay is a selfish and uninteresting lover, then move on. If you don’t have the time or wherewithal to take on a project, then move on. Just don’t add to this person’s shame because you are sexually frustrated. Nothing will be solved by it.

Also, know that it is not a man’s job to make a woman orgasm.

Conversely, it is not a woman’s job to make a man orgasm.

We should do everything we can to help, but orgasms are more mental than they are physical and we can’t control what is happening in someone else’s mind. If your partner says he/she isn’t going to orgasm, you can’t just magically wish that orgasm into existence nor will any amount of oral/vaginal/miscellaneous sex change the score. As a former lover told me, “sometimes you just can’t find the on-ramp and all you are doing is circling and circling and circling.” And that circling is fun, but adding pressure to someone who can’t find the on-ramp is only going to get them more lost and frustrated. Just enjoy the trip, listen to them and their bodies, and respond to their needs, whatever they may be.

So our only job is to make our lovers feel adored, appreciated, and taken care of. How to do that changes from person to person, so what worked before won’t necessarily work in the future. Explore, learn, and adapt. Orgasms are just an added benefit. Sex can still be amazing without them.

Here is another hard lesson I’ve learned. No matter how much I want to be the best lay of someone’s life, I can’t always be that. Every sexual identity is as unique as fingerprint so, try as I might, we might simply be a bad fit. Yes, yes, she said that too. Let’s move on.

Sex is a form of communication, more than anything else, and sometimes you just cannot get beyond the surface. Attraction isn’t there, interests are misaligned, timing isn’t right, there are a number of reasons that the chemistry doesn’t work so maybe this person who is a terrible lay just isn’t the person for you. Now, a selfish lover is a selfish lover, but sometimes a terrible lay is more than one or both partners being bad at sex.

Another important issue is performance anxiety.

The first thought for most on this will be erectile dysfunction. It’s a thing that happens to all men at some point in their lives and it can be due to anxiety, too much whiskey, or who the hell knows. This is a physiological disadvantage men have to women because we simply cannot fake it. We can try to make it work, but if it’s not going to happen, it’s not going to happen. When condoms are involved, there is palpable fear of disaster. We must still use condoms with all new lovers of course, but that doesn’t diminish the intense intimidation factor some men feel while trying to use them. That’s the real secret of why men don’t want to wear condoms. The difference in feel is real, but not nearly as significant as the fear of emasculation. If each condom was paired with a dose of Viagra, condom use would skyrocket.

But performance anxiety goes beyond that.

I recently came across a fascinating exploration of the breakdown of sexual/romantic chemistry in a movie entitled The Duke of Burgundy (now on Netflix.) A film about sex where very little sex is actually shown, The Duke of Burgundy instead focuses on the pre-game and post-game implications. If you’re going to have a constructive conversation on the dynamics of love and lust in film, I believe this is the only way to really do it. In the movie, two women have fallen into a master/servant scenario, but the submissive’s drive is much stronger than the dominant’s and frustration and bitterness ensues. The dominant is expected to perform and when she does, kudos, but when she doesn’t, she is shamed by the submissive. The point is poignant for anyone whose fallen into a scenario where they are the sexual dynamo and unrealistic expectations are established for every outing.

Another problematic aspect of the traditional view of sex is men are expected to be the expert aggressors right out of the gate, therefore constructive communication is difficult to receive because it is hard to balance humility and swagger(both are important in the game of sex). Men and women who want to be good lovers need to be adept at receiving signals, whether verbal instructions, deep sighs, or the way muscles and tendons coil. Conversely, we all must be good at giving those signals in a way that they going to be best received. Coarsely shaming the partner because you are frustrated is not going to make them better. It is only going to make them angry or timid.

So, when talking to men about sex, understand that every one of us has a sense of fear/doubt coming into the first experience with a new partner. We are walking out on stage for the first time, hoping to deliver a virtuoso performance, but fearing we won’t even be able to maintain an erection. We don’t want to talk about, we want to pretend that the doubt doesn’t exist, but it does. For every one of us.

If you encounter a bad lay, whether male or female, it’s not your job to make them better. But if you believe they are worth salvaging, try to understand why they are a bad lay. Lack of experience? Lack of confidence? Maybe they were harmed physically or emotionally in a previous relationship so there is a great deal of apprehension? Get at the root of the problem, then guide them out into the wilderness gently. Explore together. Be patient and always remember that you were once a bad lay too.

 

“The Projectionist” By mer whinery Listed Among Best Stories Of 2015 By The Haunted Omnibus

mer whinery has an exceptional voice for horror. Part murky swampwater, part southern-fried truthteller, his ghastly tales more often than not stray into the world of ghouls and other creatures of the afterlife and he has produced two excellent short story collections for Literati Press based in his old stomping grounds of Little Dixie. “The Projectionist” popped up in Phatasmagoria Blues, which we released last year, but also High Strange Horror from our good friends at Muzzleland Press. That second collection made it into the hands of Jose Cruz at The Haunted Omnibus and he named whinery’s story as one of the best in 2015. Check it:

• “The Projectionist” – Mer Whinery

(High Strange Horror)

In all of this list, there probably isn’t another living writer more under the radar than Mer Whinery. Despite having two collections out in the ether, the author hasn’t garnered much notice or acclaim outside the small press field, but it only takes a story like “The Projectionist” to prove that Whinery has the goods. The tale has the same skuzzy feel as the movie-house where the title character works but by inches it gradually descends (or ascends) into a diabolical vision full of cold cadavers and hot celluloid gods. This is all that I’ve read of Whinery so far, but I can tell you with confidence that I am officially a fan.

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Phantasmagoria Blues by Mer Whinery
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Little Dixie Horror Show by Mer Whinery
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Feel Free To Redraw This-Being Good

Think you can do better? Have at it and email it to charles@literatipressok.com or post it on Instagram and tag @literatipress. Maybe we’ll post it on the site. Maybe it’s your shot at fame and fortune in the lucrative field of web comics. Who knows? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

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The Oklahoma Sky Is Falling, But Art Will Be Our Umbrella.

ArtNow

Showing with Free Admission through January 22

ArtNow Party on Friday, January 22

VIP Reception, Tickets: $150 6:30 p.m.

General Admission, Tickets: $75 8 p.m.

Young Patron (ages 21-40), Tickets: $50 8 p.m.

Oklahoma Contemporary

3000 General Pershing Blvd. in OKC

oklahomacontemporary.org

Alright gang, huddle up. I’m talking to the Paseo Bohemians and the Plaza Cool Kids. Also the Triangle Of Death Rockers, the Uptown Barflies, the Midtown Idealists. And I’m not forgetting about the Film Row Pioneers and the Brass Bell Outliers. And you, the Norman Leftists and the Suburban Satellite Creatives, we need everyone in on this. Let’s not forget the patrons. Never forget the patrons. Whether corporate, private, or public, we’re gonna make room for everyone to squeeze in because you guys have been really, really great.

Everybody cozy? Can you hear me alright, Southsiders? Great.

It’s been a good run, everyone. No, fuck that. It’s been a GREAT run. If you’re an artist, entrepreneur, restaurateur, or just an optimistic chance-taker, Oklahoma City has been the place to be. No more Austin envy for us. The coastal hubs are great and all, but if you want to try something new and dangerous, there’s no better place than home. The level of talent in this city is astonishing and we’ve come into our own thanks to the unwavering support of some amazing people like Peter Dolese, Stephen Kovash, Julia Kirt, and Kelsey Karper. A lot of heroes have been pushing art in this town for a very long time and now we’ve got an opportunity to do something big. Don’t believe me? Go see ArtNow at the Oklahoma Contemporary building. It’s a small glimpse of the wide pool of professional talent in this state who are doing distinctive and brazen work. If you don’t run into at least three things in the group exhibit that leave you awed, then I will kiss you square in the mouth.

And if you throw down money for any of the excellent pieces at ArtNow, I will also kiss you square in the mouth.  Or not. Whatever get’s your wallet open. This fundraiser keeps Oklahoma Contemporary’s exhibits free, which is pretty incredible considering how much amazing art goes in and out of that building.

So, we’re blessed to be in Oklahoma. How weird is that to say? But it’s true. I grew up here but never thought thought I was gonna stay, let alone be thankful as hell that I never moved.

Yet, it’s not all popsicles and good times. We’ve got some troubles coming. Oil prices have fallen dangerously low and we have politicians hinting that the best way out of this mess is to start another war in the Middle East(please vote). The governmental mismanagement of our state is also no longer cute and laughable like a child who doesn’t know how to use a cell phone. It’s frightening like a child who found its father’s loaded pistol. This is going to trickle down. It’s gonna touch all of us so we need to figure out what we’re gonna do.

Don’t worry, though. I’ve got a plan and it’s pretty simple:

GO BIGGER!

Romy Owens just knitted a cozy for a building! No foolin’. A real building that real people can walk inside of! So, not one of you has an excuse. Artists, painters, movie makers, storytellers, whoever, do you have a big idea that you’d kept on the shelf because the timing was never right? Well, now is the time. Oklahoma will survive this latest challenge to our economy, education, and pride. It’ll hurt a bit, but this isn’t going to be another Oil Bust.

Unless we let it. And how will we let it? We panic, that’s how.

So, let’s change the conversation. Tired of hearing about brutal budget cuts and mass layoffs? Erect a statue out of something bizarre and beautiful. Make a comic book about your grandmother who survived the Dustbowl with nothing but grit, sewing thread, and honeybees. Write a concept album, put on an original play. Don’t worry about the money, just get a second job or maybe quite drinking until you’ve saved enough to pay for the project outright. Just make it happen.



And, patrons, we’re gonna need you to keep buying and to keep showing up to the exhibits, concerts, and performances. We need you to keep throwing your money where your heart is. I know it’s scary right now, but this will pass. It must. So, stay focused, stay in the game, and keep supporting the things that make you love this city.

 

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Feel Free To Redraw This-Emoticons

Think you can do better? Have at it and email it to charles@literatipressok.com or post it on Instagram and tag @literatipress. Maybe we’ll post it on the site. Maybe it’s your shot at fame and fortune in the lucrative field of web comics. Who knows? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

Don’t like this one, but want to see what else we got. Here are the rest of Feel Free To Redraw This.

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