Archive for June, 2022

Will Short Skirts Be Allowed?

Sunday, June 26th, 2022

It’s really great that, once again, society is proving that it doesn’t give one shit about the rights of human beings. Maybe I shouldn’t got those two sweet, sweet pairs of perfectly fitting, low-rise pants the other day. Maybe I should have instead capitulated to literally any other pair of pants in the tri-state area, all of which ranged from “high rise” to “super high rise,” the latter of which I didn’t even know was a thing until a few weeks ago. I’d assume such conservative garments will be more acceptable once our American Taliban really takes control around here. Will we all be required to wear those ugly button flies in the future to keep any midriff from showing? Will skinny jeans be deemed too show-y, and will ‘mom jeans’ be the soup du jour from those trying to skirt the burqa? At least there won’t be any more of those dumb factory-ripped holes.

Not that only the female will be effected or is being effected by recent events. The Supreme Court’s ruling on Roe v. Wade may appear on the surface to be one that only effects one half of the country’s population—thee uterus-owners, thee whatever. In reality, considering how same sex relations, birth control, and desegregated schools now sit neatly in the court’s crosshairs after their big hit on Friday, it effects each and every American. Hell, it effects each and every person on this planet, considering the similar, anti-bodily autonomy pressure the Catholic church also has on countries like Poland. It effects anyone under the thumb of an oppressive and fundamentalist ruling class who just wants to live without said ruling class poking its nose in their business. That’s pretty much all of us, as much as some of us would like to deny it. It’s easier to succumb to the religious right’s reigning propaganda schemes—or to deflect the blame onto the entire male species, on the other side of the oversimplified political spectrum—than to unpack the weaving, intertwining tentacles of church and state in modern America. It’s easier to accept the reality of sending unwanted children to school in bulletproof backpacks and crossing your fingers, than trying to change that reality—especially when the so-called ‘representatives’ who promised to change that reality for you failed miserably at their one job.

As someone used to humans being the most awful and abhorrent creatures walking the planet, the weirdest thing about times like this is how much the world stays the same. I went out for sushi with my family for dinner Friday night, and it was definitively the best meal out I’d had in recent memory. I wasn’t turned away from dining out due to my new low rise pants or my feminine wiles. It doesn’t look like I’ll be turned away from higher education in the already parasitic, sinister Buckeye State any time soon either, despite the likeliness of said state to crack down on abortion rights coming up. It’s a strange crossroads to be standing on trying to sow tiny sparks of hope for your personal steps forwards while society around you is chronically and rapidly regressing with the highest hopes of taking you down with it. But with studies on the horizon and the resurrected Kent State SDS on my side, I guess I won’t be fleeing the country any time soon.

What’s with all this country business anyway? All it does is fuel ugly jingoism in the first place. And if the systematically defined borders around my place of residence define my or anybody else’s ability to legally be a fully autonomous human being capable of exercising freedom to the fullest, safest extent, I just wish we’d consider some truly universal healthcare.

They’ll Never Get Hungry

Thursday, June 23rd, 2022

I was bag shopping at the mall yesterday, and the song “The Way” by Fastball came on the radio. It’s one of those songs that I feel has been ingrained into my consciousness purely from radio play in places of commerce. Something about the chorus stuck out to my ears, and I took the liberty to look the song up only to learn that it was inspired by a news blurb about an aging couple who took off in their car only to be found dead at the bottom of a ravine weeks later. Anyone in the mall could’ve done the same as me with the ease of their phones, but they didn’t. It was just pure white noise to the rest of them. Nothing was offbeat or sinister; life was happening as usual.

Just a regular day at the dying Boscovs anchor whose facade hasn’t been updated since 1989.

Marketplace Of Ideas?

Tuesday, June 14th, 2022

I’m forced to look at political discourse daily thanks to the beautiful nature of the internet, and with the January 6 hearings kicking off and the like, I’ve been seeing a lot of it lately. But it’s all the same old story. The key to making bold points on the internet, form what I’ve seen, is to come off as someone who can see through every dirty window and every veil of fog when it comes to how the world works. I am right and you are wrong; you are fallible, I am not. But people seem to forget that no one is truly immune to propaganda. The world tells you that arguing on the internet about how awesome your political devotion is over everybody else’s, will help change society’s most deeply rooted flaws. It’s not going to.

Having your voice out there in the world is important; it all depends on how you use it. I wish that people collectively could strive towards turning their ideas into some sort of worldly force, one as creative as it is subversive and as diverse in its contributors as it is unified. The world doesn’t want that. There are plenty of much more productive ways to use your emotions than trying to come off as superior than others on the internet. That’s what the world wants you to succumb to.

While left-leaning people who surely do want to make positive change were bickering over crap that doesn’t matter, a group of brainwashed assholes were able to mobilize an attempt at a military coup on the concept of democracy and the truth (not that they hadn’t almost entirely chipped away at it already and are still doing so). That was over a year ago, and with chuds continuing to reign supreme in and outside of politics and perfectly capable people still yelling into voids, nothing has changed.

“Anger can be power; don’tcha know that you can use it?” asked the Clash. Do we have to keep saying that to the people where and when it really matters?

Monday, June 13th, 2022

Also about last Saturday: props to the Ottobar for having a photo booth.

In Some Sci-Fi Vein

Monday, June 13th, 2022

METAL. In terms of the material, I was always a big fan of it. Shiny, industrial, dignified—METAL. It’s pretty great. In terms of the music genre, I’m not really a metal person, despite my frequent punk persuasions. Between the two genres, metal is more known for long hair and being a bro and stuff, which isn’t my scene at all. But, alas, everyone has to go through certain rites of passage in their lives, including that of one’s first metal show. I got to go through that on Saturday.

I was kind of dragged (no offense) to see Voivod in Baltimore by my father, who is a big fan. He is so much of a big fan, in fact, that we ended up getting to meet the band before the show, and I am happy to know that they are all really nice people! I spent most of that time talking to their drummer, Away, who, as someone not very familiar with the band and its members, I did not expect to be a spry little dude with a heavy French accent named Michel. He also does all of the band’s dark, dystopian artwork (which is pretty awesome, by the way). He’s great. They all are!

I actually rarely listen to Voivod, but I’ve always respected them. Their lyrics are heavily influenced by science fiction and are a lot more intelligent and conscious than your average “I wanna rock n’ roll all night” metal group (no offense times-2). They also don’t succumb to the screamy or guttural vocals that I never cared for yet always associated with the genre (no offense times-3), and they did a great version of “Astronomy Domine” at the end of the show, proving their range of influences. And most metal shows do not involve a spontaneous snippet of “Stayin’ Alive,” which is probably the only time I’d be able to take that song.

They clearly put a lot of octane into their performance, taking on sped up punk with the same intensity as their more experimental, droning numbers. Most may not call them “punk” out of metalhead instinct, but they maintain that sensibility. They’re still out there, soldering on, and the crowd was visibly very grateful. I actually spent a good amount of the show monitoring the pit, which inevitably formed. With my beloved camera in my hand, my beloved purse stuffed with all my crap, and my beloved cellphone in my back pocket, I wasn’t going to risk joining it, but it was fun to observe. Luckily I was only ran into once during the one moment during the show where I looked down at my camera away from the action. Otherwise I was able to jerk and flinch my way out of contact’s way whenever someone would get too close, though others inadvertently shielded me from the pit at various times throughout the night. The no crowd surfing rule was broken six times.

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And, all in all, despite being displaced from my comfort zone for a night, it was a fun one. I’m glad I went!

One of the most recent comments on Voivod’s last.fm page reads as follows:

voivod restored my faith in humanity, watered all my crops, paid off all my cars and mortgages, cured all my ailments, fed my family and pets, kept the heater running during winter nights, attended my wedding AND my funeral all in the same day this is amazing. love them

which I think is a much better way of summing up the group than I ever could.

Those Canadians!

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Versus Ohio

Thursday, June 9th, 2022

Over the weekend, I got my first true taste at college life. Kent State freshman orientation. Verdict: not too shabby. It was the fourth time I’d been to Kent, and it might have been the most satisfying visit there yet. Today actually marks one year since I first stepped foot in the college town, which I still find hard to believe. When four nebulous years lie ahead of me, it feels even more surreal. But that strangeness has never felt negative.

We rolled into town last Thursday afternoon, with my orientation beginning the next morning. I got to visit North Water Street, an old part of town I had never been to before. It’s the site of the old JB’s club, a regionally legendary venue that hosted the likes of 15-60-75 (The Numbers Band) and DEVO. It’s called the Brew Down now, but the outlines of its sign and door awning remain the same, albeit in a more garish KSU blue and gold. The buildings beside it, featured in DEVO’s pioneering 1976 short film The Truth About De-Evolution, are worn and boarded up, and one has been demolished. It was interesting to see that not all of the city has succumbed to the cutesy college town ‘vibes’ that seemingly define the ideal 2020s campus.

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They also sell Numbers Band shirts at one of the local school shirt shops, which are sick, though I kept myself from buying one due to my current unfamiliarity with their material. I ain’t no poser, yuh see.

In seeing the campus itself across the three days I was in town, it was probably the most gorgeous I’d ever seen it. The weather was pristine the entire weekend, and the campus was seemingly made for sunsets. Buildings such as Franklin Hall, which I’ll be spending some time in as a journalism major, looked more dignified than ever. Spring in Kent is incredible for more reasons than just the history, even as it was rolling into a sweltering summer.

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The orientation itself went down easily. There was quite a bit of sitting through informational presentations that could have just been read online, but the rest of the time let me connect with and adapt to my new surroundings and traditions hands-on. The process felt effortless. I stayed overnight in a dorm for the first time, and while honors college housing will be supplying me with much more living space than I experienced Friday night, I thought my room’s compactness was pretty charming. As long as I don’t have to bunk my bed, I’m good. The communal bathroom situation went easier than I expected, and the dining hall food wasn’t too shabby. I also did the Electric Slide for the first time. I wish I regretted doing that.

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The climax of the event was working out my fall semester schedule, which went very smoothly. Afterwards I had over an hour until my next scheduled activity, so I took the opportunity to wander around campus some more, figuring out how much time I would need to get between classes. I revisited the site of the May 4 shootings, my first time as an official student. And in knowing that my choice was official, that I had successfully taken my life into my own hands in some way, that I had my own footsteps to make both following in and alongside those who came before me—I felt more secure than I ever had before standing on those hallowed grounds.

I got my university ID card shortly afterwards in the student center, which was satisfying to say the least, even though I almost lost it by letting it fall onto the floor minutes after receiving it. I left high school with a doi; I entered college with one. Some things never change. But I expect better behavior from myself during my tenure at Kent.

Watch out, O-HI-O.

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Tuesday, June 7th, 2022

Covering the funky monkeys in Kent, Ohio last Saturday.