Hamlet in Hollister
Dec. 3rd, 2008 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snousleI must thank ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
furr_a_bruin for some excellent video to break in the new boob-tube.
First off is all 13 episodes of Sons of Anarchy, a series that has almost rehabilitated my view of television. I mentioned this to Bill and the first thing out of his mouth was "I could watch Ron Perlman all day long!" So we had a good time watching the pilot.
This is some serious production. The series is so obsessively accurate that Bill tells me they even match the correct sounds to any weapons being fired. (He would know!) True, it has a few more explosions than seems reasonable, but it is serious enough about psychological realism that it merits more attention than anything I've seen on TV so far. Ever. I find discussions about most TV characters to be kind of pointless because their lack of integrity makes questions about their inner life meaningless. This, however, is different.
Some of this is personal; there is so much in the character of Jax that I can personally identify with that it's easy to get drawn in. It's funny, because when I read Hamlet in school it meant nothing at all to me. Jax, in this most modern adaptation, seems much closer, and much more engaged with questions that are relevant to my own life. Very concrete ones, like: why do motorcycle clubs wear colors in public? What makes clubs endure and fail? What are their strengths and vulnerabilities?
These are very much on my mind having come back from the Satyrs' anniversary. As many of you know, I'm now the youngest member of the oldest surviving gay men's group in the world. We came before Stonewall. We came before the Hell's Angels. So understandably, all this history gives me a good healthy case of impostor syndrome - which is, incidentally, something I also experience as a so-called caterer. That's why I run screaming from the word "real". I will never, ever match the expectations of onlookers in either of these roles. No point in even thinking about it.
SAMCRO never concerns itself with such questions because they are busy. They have places to go and things to do. And what they do, and why, is instructive precisely because their story draws so much from both classic literature and modern reality. I hate to drag out the old "compare and contrast" schtick from high school English classes, but how can I not?
The most obvious difference is that neither the RMC or the Satyrs are institutionally violent or criminal. Bike clubs today are pretty peaceful, overall, though there are a few notable exceptions. And who knows what goes on quietly, even between my own brothers? But the daily slugfest SOA depicts, not so much. TV has to make things bigger than life, which I see as a weakness of the medium, but a forgivable one.
The shape and traditions of male bonding are timeless. In truth, though we have the modern tools of motorcycles and roads to make it happen in a particular way, I don't think that the basic form of the Satyrs is at all new. This club is not named after satyrs; we are the satyrs, as part of a tradition going back not tens, but rather thousands of years. It is the identification of particular clubs as "gay" that is the modern contrivance. As recently as the 60s this was not a particular issue; many of the members were married to women, had children, and fucked each other because they were horny perverts. This is not about being straight-acting, because the last thing I want to do is try to disparage the contemporary gay identity as being somehow inferior to heterosexuality. But what we have between us is something as different from that identity as gay is from straight. Gay is a comfortable and welcoming home, but it's not ours. Even in 2008, we go to the mountains because that is our home. As a practical matter, I still cannot speak my mind about sex in a gay bar. Up there, I can. When I'm not too bashful about it, anyway. ;-)
[I've sort of stalled here, staring at the screen for about 20 minutes trying to think of how to say this without appearing to fall into the stereotypical postures of the closet-case. Because that's what gets immediately projected into the words of anyone who fucks men but considers themselves something other than wholly Gay with capital G. Such men are not really listened to, which is unfortunate because there are not just two sexual orientations in the world, there are many. I have the sense that there are many of us who are small-s satyrs but not capital-s Satyrs because there is no clear point around which we can be rallied, so we cling to the poles of the gay-straight axis and are left unable to find each other. Is it just a romantic delusion to think that I might have unrecognized soul-brothers that call themselves straight for lack of a better word? Just because they like pussy and I don't doesn't seem enough to justify that divide.]
So yeah, I suppose the elephant in the room is that we're fags. Fine. Whaddaboutit. Here I go again, getting all caught up in identity issues when what I really want to talk about is business.
What SOA brings to mind is that what makes clubs powerful is power. They are a channel for transactions that can't happen otherwise, because the membership creates a form of trust that outsiders cannot access. Initiation societies are arguably the strongest way of generating the trust that lets those potentials be realized. But in both the RMC and the Satyrs, I see two clubs that are literally all dressed up with nowhere to go, because the membership is by and large too coy to recognize and take advantage of their potential. It would be impolite, or it might offend someone, or maybe it isn't so keenly necessary as it once was. Is this just an anachronism, or a fire that just needs a little more kindling?
One thing that made me smile was Jax's discovery of his father's manuscripts. Because I have exactly that same sheaf of manuscripts from the founder of the RMC - ranging from ancient mimeographs to works published and available through Amazon. Unfortunately, ours are rather more obscure than what Jax found in the attic. Such as a copy of Paradise Lost with about three-quarters of the words deleted. Thanks Ron, that was very helpful! Thing is, I think he knew what he was doing and what he was trying to say, and what he handed down posthumously is, in fact, a guide. Like so many other things, I don't think it was intended to be easy.
What do I want from these clubs? Throwing parties and riding around in our colors is fun but not nearly as fun as it could be if our fates were more strongly bound to the group. The Satyrs in particular are constantly fretting about how to attract new members. It seems terribly vulgar to say it, but it would please me greatly if prospects were attracted to either of these clubs out of a desire to make money. I have already been moving subconsciously in that direction, but SOA got me thinking about how to be more explicit about it. It doesn't have to be in any way brutal or cruel, merely shameless.
Grandiose? I dunno, what would YOU do if you were an heir to two of the most remarkable names in the country? Watch them roll over and die, or try to fire them up? We live in an age of such apathy, while entry into these clubs is so hard to achieve, that there has to be some really tasty bait. If SOA has taught me anything, it's that power is the tastiest bait of all, and that I should use it liberally whenever the opportunity presents itself.
On an unrelated note, I must also say that El Paso Wrecking Company, also on Furr's disc set, is so far and away the most awesome porn I've seen that it makes everything else look stupid. It's so good, this was the first time I've ever left the sound on! I would be proud to show this to any straight man and say: This Is What It's Like. Thanks for sending it along!
furr_a_bruin for some excellent video to break in the new boob-tube. First off is all 13 episodes of Sons of Anarchy, a series that has almost rehabilitated my view of television. I mentioned this to Bill and the first thing out of his mouth was "I could watch Ron Perlman all day long!" So we had a good time watching the pilot.
This is some serious production. The series is so obsessively accurate that Bill tells me they even match the correct sounds to any weapons being fired. (He would know!) True, it has a few more explosions than seems reasonable, but it is serious enough about psychological realism that it merits more attention than anything I've seen on TV so far. Ever. I find discussions about most TV characters to be kind of pointless because their lack of integrity makes questions about their inner life meaningless. This, however, is different.
Some of this is personal; there is so much in the character of Jax that I can personally identify with that it's easy to get drawn in. It's funny, because when I read Hamlet in school it meant nothing at all to me. Jax, in this most modern adaptation, seems much closer, and much more engaged with questions that are relevant to my own life. Very concrete ones, like: why do motorcycle clubs wear colors in public? What makes clubs endure and fail? What are their strengths and vulnerabilities?
These are very much on my mind having come back from the Satyrs' anniversary. As many of you know, I'm now the youngest member of the oldest surviving gay men's group in the world. We came before Stonewall. We came before the Hell's Angels. So understandably, all this history gives me a good healthy case of impostor syndrome - which is, incidentally, something I also experience as a so-called caterer. That's why I run screaming from the word "real". I will never, ever match the expectations of onlookers in either of these roles. No point in even thinking about it.
SAMCRO never concerns itself with such questions because they are busy. They have places to go and things to do. And what they do, and why, is instructive precisely because their story draws so much from both classic literature and modern reality. I hate to drag out the old "compare and contrast" schtick from high school English classes, but how can I not?
The most obvious difference is that neither the RMC or the Satyrs are institutionally violent or criminal. Bike clubs today are pretty peaceful, overall, though there are a few notable exceptions. And who knows what goes on quietly, even between my own brothers? But the daily slugfest SOA depicts, not so much. TV has to make things bigger than life, which I see as a weakness of the medium, but a forgivable one.
The shape and traditions of male bonding are timeless. In truth, though we have the modern tools of motorcycles and roads to make it happen in a particular way, I don't think that the basic form of the Satyrs is at all new. This club is not named after satyrs; we are the satyrs, as part of a tradition going back not tens, but rather thousands of years. It is the identification of particular clubs as "gay" that is the modern contrivance. As recently as the 60s this was not a particular issue; many of the members were married to women, had children, and fucked each other because they were horny perverts. This is not about being straight-acting, because the last thing I want to do is try to disparage the contemporary gay identity as being somehow inferior to heterosexuality. But what we have between us is something as different from that identity as gay is from straight. Gay is a comfortable and welcoming home, but it's not ours. Even in 2008, we go to the mountains because that is our home. As a practical matter, I still cannot speak my mind about sex in a gay bar. Up there, I can. When I'm not too bashful about it, anyway. ;-)
[I've sort of stalled here, staring at the screen for about 20 minutes trying to think of how to say this without appearing to fall into the stereotypical postures of the closet-case. Because that's what gets immediately projected into the words of anyone who fucks men but considers themselves something other than wholly Gay with capital G. Such men are not really listened to, which is unfortunate because there are not just two sexual orientations in the world, there are many. I have the sense that there are many of us who are small-s satyrs but not capital-s Satyrs because there is no clear point around which we can be rallied, so we cling to the poles of the gay-straight axis and are left unable to find each other. Is it just a romantic delusion to think that I might have unrecognized soul-brothers that call themselves straight for lack of a better word? Just because they like pussy and I don't doesn't seem enough to justify that divide.]
So yeah, I suppose the elephant in the room is that we're fags. Fine. Whaddaboutit. Here I go again, getting all caught up in identity issues when what I really want to talk about is business.
What SOA brings to mind is that what makes clubs powerful is power. They are a channel for transactions that can't happen otherwise, because the membership creates a form of trust that outsiders cannot access. Initiation societies are arguably the strongest way of generating the trust that lets those potentials be realized. But in both the RMC and the Satyrs, I see two clubs that are literally all dressed up with nowhere to go, because the membership is by and large too coy to recognize and take advantage of their potential. It would be impolite, or it might offend someone, or maybe it isn't so keenly necessary as it once was. Is this just an anachronism, or a fire that just needs a little more kindling?
One thing that made me smile was Jax's discovery of his father's manuscripts. Because I have exactly that same sheaf of manuscripts from the founder of the RMC - ranging from ancient mimeographs to works published and available through Amazon. Unfortunately, ours are rather more obscure than what Jax found in the attic. Such as a copy of Paradise Lost with about three-quarters of the words deleted. Thanks Ron, that was very helpful! Thing is, I think he knew what he was doing and what he was trying to say, and what he handed down posthumously is, in fact, a guide. Like so many other things, I don't think it was intended to be easy.
What do I want from these clubs? Throwing parties and riding around in our colors is fun but not nearly as fun as it could be if our fates were more strongly bound to the group. The Satyrs in particular are constantly fretting about how to attract new members. It seems terribly vulgar to say it, but it would please me greatly if prospects were attracted to either of these clubs out of a desire to make money. I have already been moving subconsciously in that direction, but SOA got me thinking about how to be more explicit about it. It doesn't have to be in any way brutal or cruel, merely shameless.
Grandiose? I dunno, what would YOU do if you were an heir to two of the most remarkable names in the country? Watch them roll over and die, or try to fire them up? We live in an age of such apathy, while entry into these clubs is so hard to achieve, that there has to be some really tasty bait. If SOA has taught me anything, it's that power is the tastiest bait of all, and that I should use it liberally whenever the opportunity presents itself.
On an unrelated note, I must also say that El Paso Wrecking Company, also on Furr's disc set, is so far and away the most awesome porn I've seen that it makes everything else look stupid. It's so good, this was the first time I've ever left the sound on! I would be proud to show this to any straight man and say: This Is What It's Like. Thanks for sending it along!
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Re: seminal
Date: 2008-12-03 09:02 pm (UTC)