Future Crock

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I’m from the future. So are you. We all live in the future. The time that we all looked forward to with great anticipation since we were kids, and we read, with shining eyes, Jules Verne or Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke. When we turned on Flash Gordon or The Jetsons or Back to the Future.

And it’s come on so gradually that most of us haven’t even noticed that, according to Arthur C. Clarke, we were supposed to have commercial shuttles to the moon and deep space travel thirteen years ago. But even life on earth isn’t what we expected. Do you realize that next year is the year that Marty McFly visits the future of Hill Valley, to marvel at the hover cars (and hover boards) and the interactive talking houses of 2015?

Smart phones and Google Glasses notwithstanding, the future isn’t what a lot of us expected. But even more than the flashy gadgets that the movies and futuristic reading material promised us, many of us are disappointed by the issues that still plague us on a more fundamental level.

The ongoing wars and conflicts and suicide bombings and despotic dictators have become so commonplace that we often shake our heads and sigh when we hear the reports, then go on with whatever we were doing. We think ‘that’s too bad and I’m sorry,’ but we feel helpless to change anything about it. Because there’s little that most of us can do.

But what about right here in our own area? I’m amazed at how backwards and archaic ‘the future’ is in a number of ways here in America.

A week ago, Emma Watson, Hermione from the Harry Potter movies, and now UN Women Goodwill Ambassador, delivered a speech before the United Nations. And the contents of that speech have been called all kinds of glorious adjectives, stopping just short of ‘revolutionary.’ (Maybe it has been called that and I just missed it.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not casting aspersions on her speech by any means. It was an excellent speech (and can be seen and heard here). Her words were moving and eloquent, her nervous, shaky delivery sweet and endearing.

My problem is that we live in the twenty-first century and we still have to discuss gender inequality, not to mention issues involving racial prejudice, religious intolerance, violent nationalistic fervor, political bickering, bullying, etc. Why haven’t we gotten beyond these things yet? Treating somebody differently just because of something as elemental as the arrangement of chromosomes in their cells, or genetic variations that determine the color of a person’s skin and the texture of their hair? These things should have been settled and put aside ages ago!

It’s been a century and a half since the end of the American Civil War. And yet a century after that, race was still enough of an issue that Martin Luther King’s efforts to battle racial inequality through nonviolence were noteworthy enough to win him the Nobel Peace Prize. And a half century after that, we’re still struggling with it.

And women, roughly half our population, are still being treated as if they were below-average citizens. Those who scrape and struggle to positions traditionally occupied by men still earn considerably less than the men in those corresponding positions. Women are viewed as rape bait by an astonishing number of men. And women are targets of various other kinds of violence by men.

Again, this should have been taken care of long ago!

In 1970, Alvin Toffler wrote a book called Future Shock. The title came from the psychological state that he defined as a personal perception of too much change in too short a period of time.

Well, technology has brought about a lot of change in the past decades. (Although I am still waiting for my personal robot assistant and my shuttle ride.) But some things haven’t changed nearly enough. The fact that Emma Watson even needed to deliver her speech to the United Nations, or launch the HeforShe movement, is evidence of that.

Ever since I first actually thought about it years ago, I’ve considered myself a feminist. That’s not to say that I have brought about any kind of change. I’ve actually done very little, I’m sorry to say, to improve the plight of women, aside from providing encouragement to individuals or offering my opinions in support of women and equality issues.

But now, I’ve taken a little more action. I’ve joined the movement of HeforShe, to speak up and support women’s issues. HeforShe is, according to the web site, a “solidarity movement for gender equality that brings together one half of humanity in support of the other of humanity, for the entirety of humanity.” I was the 115,811^th man to take the commitment. (The web site said, “Help us reach number 100,000.” The fact that I was nearly 16,000 above that is encouraging!)

And I’m taking a little more action by writing this blog entry that has nothing at all to do with my book, Profile, available for Kindle, Nook or on paper, published by Idyllic Ink Publishing.

The whole idea of HeforShe is for men and boys to step up and support gender equality. According to the web site, “Gender equality is not only a women’s issue, it is a human rights issue that requires my participation. I commit to take action against all forms of violence and discrimination faced by women and girls.”

Who knows? If we can eliminate some of these silly and outdated arguments that take up so much of our time and attention, maybe we can get back on track with where we should be now, in the future.

After all, I’m still waiting for my jet pack!

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The Selfishness of Depression

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This week’s column is taking a more serious stance. I’ll try to summon my smartassery again next week, but for this entry, I want to talk about depression. For a number of reasons.

First, it’s a subject that I’ve become familiar with first-hand, from my own experience with it, an ex-wife’s experience, and a few friends who suffered from depression, two of whom committed suicide.

Second, depression – and misunderstandings about it – were all over the web last month after Robin Williams committed suicide.

Third, depression plays a part in my upcoming novel 1684.

Two characters, in fact, suffer from depression, to varying degrees.

Hunter Sage watched impassively as the forest blurred past on both sides as he drove west on Durham Road, Highway 98 out of Raleigh, North Carolina. For a moment, he imagined the dramatic and fiery scene that might result if he quickly turned his wheel and plowed his Chevy Impala into the trees.

Hunter’s steely-grey eyes surveyed the passing forest, taking note that several of the tree trunks were plenty big enough to do the job. His gas tank was almost full. With enough speed, if he made it count, . . . .

With a sigh and a force of will, Hunter focused his attention back on the road in front of him and absently rubbed his left wrist. The raised scars often itched when he was disturbed or irritated, as he was now. He scratched the scar on his left wrist and switched to the right one as he passed a slow-moving pickup.

While this introductory scene indicates that Hunter attempted suicide in the past, and while it’s still an issue, one that presents itself from time to time, he’s managing it.

On the other hand . . .

Even though it was late afternoon, little light penetrated the blinds and curtains. Lily preferred it dark. She knew that Parker would have a problem with it, so she planned to open them before he got home. But she also knew that he was going to the bar with his crew after work, so she still had some time.

The light just felt so harsh, so unforgiving. The dark, on the other hand, was relaxing and welcoming. Lily felt as if she could breathe more easily in the dim light.

It was all in her head. She knew that. Many sessions with Jane, her therapist, had convinced her of that. But that didn’t make it feel any less real. If she went outside, which she didn’t if she could avoid it, the severe, burning sunlight pressed down on her with a physical weight. She could feel that weight lifted off of her when she came back inside.

While Lily hadn’t attempted suicide, and despite all the medications she was on, she was managing her depression a little less effectively.

Both Lily and Hunter were experiencing depression which could be traced primarily to an external stimulus. Many people, though, experience depression of a deeper, darker source. Inside themselves.

Often depression can be traced to a chemical imbalance in the brain, or other internal mechanisms which can make it more difficult for the untrained to recognize. Look at Robin Williams, for instance. One of the nicest, most kind-hearted and funniest people suffered from severe depression. But he covered it with humor, internalizing it to the extent possible, finally hanging himself.

And a few remarks about it in the following days indicated the misunderstanding that many people still have about this affliction. That he was selfish, that he took the easy way out, or the coward’s way.

The thing is, selfishness does often play into depression, but not the way these people meant it. Depression can make a person feel so sad, so pained, that those feelings are the only thing the sufferer can feel or focus on. Their self-centeredness is not something they can help.

With some, the pain or sadness is so intense that death seems like the only way to stop it. I’m certainly not condoning or promoting suicide as a viable way to end your pain. I’m simply saying that I can understand it.

I’ve suffered from depression myself, and while I’ve never been suicidal, I have been to the point of welcoming anything that would end the pain, even death. Though I have a slight tendency toward depression, my worst bouts were primarily a result of external stimuli, one of the worst being the death of my son twelve years ago.

Having been there myself, I think I have a deeper understanding of and sympathy for others who suffer from depression. Those who have never felt the interminable weight of a sadness that goes far beyond being ‘blue’ can never really understand what it’s like.

That’s why it’s still so common to hear suggestions like, “Snap out of it,” “If you don’t like feeling that way, then change it,” “Life isn’t meant to be fair,” or “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” These remarks, and others like them, don’t help. In fact, they make the depressed person feel even worse, because they feel powerless to make the suggested changes. Professional counseling, and possibly medical treatment, are often needed to improve the situation.

If you or someone you love suffers from depression, don’t wait until it’s too late to acknowledge it. Get help. Contact your doctor, or connect with one of any number of groups and organizations in your area that can help you deal with it. Or start with some of these links.

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance

National Institute of Mental Health

National Mental Health Association

American Psychiatric Association

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Fifty Shades of – Did Somebody Call Me?

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By now, most, if not all, of the readers of this blog have read Profile, my novel about a smartass character who created a fake Facebook identity, and who, incidentally, is nothing at all like me. And if you haven’t read it yet, what the hell are you waiting for? (If you answered, “I’m waiting for it to come out in print,” well, good answer. It’s available now on Lulu, and will soon be available on other sites as well.)

So instead of writing about something from Profile, I decided I would write about something in 1684, my upcoming novel. Like Profile, 1684 involves two characters who meet on Facebook and fall in love. But there’s a darker story that is woven into the background, a story of a couple of women involved in the BDSM lifestyle.

A lot has been said and written about BDSM in recent years since the release of Fifty Shades of Grey. Some have protested that it does not realistically or accurately portray the BDSM lifestyle. Others love the love story related in the book. Still others, instead of weighing in on the subject matter, simply want to bash it for their perception of its literary quality (or lack thereof).

Wherever you stand in the debate, the fact remains that more attention has been directed to BDSM. Yet despite all of that attention, there are still quite a few unknowns about it.

For instance, what is it? Why would that be unknown? Perhaps because of the fringe nature of BDSM, there’s a lot of ambiguity surrounding its practices, and even the origin of the name. According to Wikipedia:

The term BDSM dates back to 1969; however, the origin of the term BDSM is unclear and is believed to have been formed either from joining the term B&D (bondage and discipline) with S&M (sadomasochism or sadism and masochism), or as a compound initialism from B&D, D&S (dominance and submission), and S&M. Regardless of its origin, BDSM is used as a catch-all phrase to include a wide range of activities, forms of interpersonal relationships, and distinct subcultures. BDSM communities generally welcome anyone with a non-normative streak who identifies with the community; this may include cross-dressers, extremebody mod enthusiasts, animal players, latex or rubber aficionados, and others.

Considering that welcoming and inclusive nature of those involved in BDSM, it may be difficult to pin down a distinct list of what is and what isn’t included. But what is certain is that numerous activities in the BDSM lifestyle involve power – the power of one participant over another. Someone putting him- or herself under the power of a dominant (or Dom/Domme) needs to know what they’re getting themselves into. So informed consent is vital.

Since many activities included in BDSM involve pain or discomfort, safe words are often used. These are prearranged words that tell the other participant that a line is about to or has been crossed, and that whatever is being done has to stop. A word of advice, though: “Please continue” might not be a good choice for a safe word.

While 1684 doesn’t delve deeply into these activities, it does follow the lives of a few people who do. And as you’ll see from this excerpt, distinctive clothing also played a part:

Mason looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing black leather pants, criss-crossed with zippers and straps and buckles, and a jacket to match. It was Monica’s idea. She had enlisted his help tonight as they embarked on their first threesome job.

“Nice,” Monica said as she looked him up and down. “Very nice! Sexy.” She played with the buckles and the chunky zippers. The pull tabs on the zippers were two inches long and all the hardware was shiny silver. The outfit really was dripping with bits of metal. Monica was fingering all of it. Before he knew it, she pulled the one at the fly. Mason felt the pants loosen at his crotch and he jumped, startled.

“Don’t worry, babe,” she said, slapping his butt, and keeping her hand there, “you look great.”

Mason looked back at his own reflection. Focus, damn it! He took a deep breath.

“I look like Edward Scissorhands,” he replied, striving to regain the tenuous calm.

“Ha!” Monica laughed. “He looked great, too.”

Not mentioned in this teaser was the sexy outfit Monica was wearing. You’ll just have to wait for that.

Teasing and torturous anticipation are often parts of BDSM activities, too.

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Mid-Century Modern Design 

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Near the beginning of my novel, Profile, Arden Chase mentions that he lives in a Mid-Century Modern house of stucco and stone. Not much more is said about it, but it’s a favorite style of mine, so I figured I’d write a bit about it here.

This is my blog. I can do what I want.

The term ‘Mid-Century Modern’ was first used as early as the mid-fifties. Since then, the style has been covered by broader terms such as ‘retro,’ but Mid-Century Modern, to me anyway, conjures a very specific image. A particularly nostalgic image of my childhood.

In the sixties, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house in California. I distinctly remember their kitchen table with a grey patterned laminate top, a chrome surround and legs, and with matching chairs of chrome and grey vinyl. Grey and pastel pink tile on the walls. Quaint little knick-knacks from a simpler time.

Yes, everyone talked about the good old days back then, too, but compared to now, and especially as a child, it was a much simpler time.

Mid-Century Modern refers to a style that began in a time of conflicting and contradictory feelings. After the end of World War II, there was a looking forward with bright optimism. We had come out of it, perhaps not unscathed, but with a new appreciation of the power at our disposal. It seemed that there was nothing that science couldn’t do for us. ‘Atomic’ and ‘space-age’ became the new buzzwords.

But that optimism came with a darker counterpart. Fear became a part of everyday life, fear of unspeakable death and destruction at the hands of our faraway enemy who possessed the same technologies that we had. ‘Duck and cover’ drills became something that every student became familiar with.

The Mid-Century Modern style that grew out of that time period tried to focus on the positive. Bright and pastel colors became the norm. Futuristic architecture juxtaposed with curvy, organic-shaped furniture. Bright chrome and colorful plastic was used in everything from jukeboxes in Atomic Cafes to kitchen appliances.

Repeated geometric patterns in muted tones and so-called ‘conversational’ prints became common in fabrics, wallpaper and other decorative items. Often, the images were fun, jaunty, optimistic, sometimes bold and graphic. Much of the furniture, such as that designed by Arne Jacobsen and Charles and Ray Eames, was sensuously curved, designed more for the look than for comfort, though some of it was actually more comfortable than it looked.

Light-colored woods and nubby fabrics were used in stereo consoles and TV cabinets. IKEA and Scandinavian Design, founded in 1943 and 1955 respectively, are still known for the style of furniture that began gaining in popularity back then.

Mid-Century Modern architecture varied in style, from repeated and curved lines of such buildings as the Washington Dulles International Airport main terminal and the Watergate Hotel, to the boxy, geometric, Arts and Crafts look of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater and the Weltzheimer Johnson House. While little is said about it in the story, the Wright architecture is what I pictured when writing about Arden’s house.

And no, it doesn’t really matter as far as the story goes, but as it says at the top of this page, it matters to me.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little history lesson. I know I have. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put on some Dave Brubeck, mix up a dry martini and relax in my underground bomb shelter suite.

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Twenty-five square miles surrounded by reality. 

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When my novel, Profile, opens up, Arden Chase lives in Boulder, Colorado. He describes it as “twenty-five square miles surrounded by reality.” And in fact, that’s how Boulder proudly describes itself.

It’s the home of the main campus of the University of Colorado, and perhaps that could have something to do with it. After all, college towns are often a little bit quirky. But Boulder definitely strolls to its own beat.

Boulder was a destination of hippies in the late sixties, presumably those who were not quite motivated enough to make the trek all the way to San Francisco. But who could blame them? Boulder is a beautiful town. Some of those hippies stuck around, and that pot-smoking, granola-munching mentality can still be found in Boulder without having to look too hard.

According to the 2010 census, the population of the city of Boulder was 97,385. According to that same census, for every 100 females, there were 105.5 males, which means that for every 100 females, there are five and a half unhappy men. Although the census does not provide information about sexual orientation, so maybe those five and a half men are okay with the way it breaks down. (But that one half guy has got to be pissed!)

As Arden points out, Boulder is the proud birthplace of the Polar Bear Plunge and the Naked Pumpkin Run, as well as various other decidedly more cultural events. Sporting events such as the Bolder Boulder, a 10-K run, is held every Memorial Day, die-hard bicyclists can be seen on virtually every road around Boulder, and rock climbers risk life and limb on the Flatirons and surrounding mountains.

Boulder is also home to the critically acclaimed Boulder Philharmonic Orchestra. But some of the most fun music-wise (and other-wise) can be had by wandering the Pearl Street Mall, a pedestrian mall closed to motorized traffic. Performers of all kinds can be seen here, often interacting in imaginative ways with passersby.

Even many of those who have never been to Boulder have likely seen it, as it was the home of Mork and Mindy. The New York Deli on the Pearl Street Mall was featured extensively in the seventies show, as were exterior shots of the Victorian gingerbread house at 1619 Pine Street, just a couple of blocks north of the mall.

Not surprisingly, Boulder has made it on several of the polls and lists that magazines love to create. It ranked as the sixth healthiest city to live and retire, the eighth best city for artists, and it ranked number one as the happiest city, the brainiest city, the ‘foodiest’ city, and the best city to raise an outdoor kid.

In case you were wondering.

Arden spends a good deal of time in Chautauqua Park, which has a pretty rich history itself. And despite Arden’s run-in with a certain violent individual, crime rates in Boulder are actually quite low, with not a single murder or manslaughter case being reported since 2011. (The statistics I had only went through 2013, but if a major violent crime spree took place in the last few months, I didn’t hear about it.)

I’ve been to Boulder many times, though I’ve never lived there. But in the future, who knows? Twenty-five square miles surrounded by reality?

Reality really is overrated.

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(July 12, 2014 - Archived)  Rave Reviews! (part 1)  Back to HaydnGrey.com

For an author, nothing keeps the ball rolling, the sales coming in, like good reviews. And when those reviews come from literary giants, well, it’s humbling, to say the least. My novel, Profile, was released on Monday, July 14. But a few old friends got early release copies and put in their two cents. Jack Kerouac took some time out from his quest to find meaning in our meaningless existence to read Profile. Always one to spontaneously relate his unfiltered opinion, but not one to take a breath very often, he had this to say: Profile is a blaze of glory in a brown paper bag, an inconspicuous thing that makes you laugh, and makes you shudder, makes you want to be Arden Chase, and really live, the kind of life that’s bright and fabulous and glorious, but has a hard, cold darkness at its center, and you bite down on it and you go “Damn, that hurt,” but you’re glad you did it. When pressed about whether that meant he liked it or not, he said, “Yeah, it was great. That Evelyn was a real piece of work, though.” Ray Bradbury, beloved science fiction/fantasy author, was a little less direct. A couple of weeks in Colorado, not quite winter, but it’s cold. The yellow sun, nearing its farthest distance from earth, took its warmth from the planet. It left behind a bitterness, heard in the words of Arden Chase, a not quite remarkable man, nor an admirable one, but a likable one nevertheless. Jane Austen, when asked of her thoughts on the book, lent her effusive prose to a description of her impressions: How I have misjudged this work! I, who have glorified books and valued the author’s craft! who have spent many a blissful hour steeped in the prose dripping from his pen! How embarrassed I am at this mournful discovery, for having once cautiously dipped my toe in Mr. Grey’s composition, I became enamoured with his hero, Arden Chase, and though I cannot, in good conscience, recommend nor condone his choices and actions, I can indeed sympathise with them. For his wife was of such a wretched and contemptible nature that I fear that I myself, if placed in his position, sadly might have taken that woeful course as well. My predisposition of disdain toward Profile was, I fear, woefully premature, and having now reveled in Mr. Chase’s adventures, I must now endeavour to exclaim, without fear of censure or criticism, that I adore this book! Papa Hemingway was gallivanting around the world, shooting stuff. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have time to relax and catch up on his reading. Profile was the first book he read from his TBR stack, and he had this to say: Arden Chase is a likable guy and a man’s man. He wants to be decent and good but he is driven by forces on the outside to surrender to forces on the inside. The book is short and the storytelling is compelling and concise. Read it. Good advice! Check it out. More reviews next week.

(July 12, 2014 - Archived)  Chautauqua Park 

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In my novel Profile, my character, Arden Chase, spends several scenes in Chautauqua Park. That’s a beautiful, natural reserve on the southwest side of Boulder, Colorado, Arden’s hometown.

Chautauqua is pronounced just like it sounds. If you don’t know how it sounds, it’s kind of like this: shuh-TAW-kwuh

But Haydn, you may be asking, what is the history of Chautauqua Park? If you’re not asking that, you’re either a barbaric oaf of philistine mentality, or I just beat you to it.

I’ll just assume the best.

But to answer your question, the beginnings of Chautauqua Park can be traced back to an adult education program begun in the 19^th century. The New York Chautauqua Assembly was organized in 1874 by clergyman John Heyl Vincent and businessman Lewis Miller. This educational summer camp was held on the shores of Chautauqua Lake, on the western end of New York State.

The program in this original Chautauqua Assembly, and in the spin-off Chautauquas, included lectures of both secular and religious content, as well as musical entertainment. Soon, Chautauquas were popping up all over the country, most in the temporary camp site setting, but a few in permanent buildings.

The Colorado Chautauqua, originally known as the Texas-Colorado Chautauqua Association, was started in 1898. It’s the only Chautauqua still in continuous operation west of the Mississippi River, and is the only one in the country that operates year-round.

The Association and the city of Boulder agreed to establish their Chautauqua near Boulder, if the city could provide ample acreage and felicitous facilities. Following a city bond election on April 5, 1898, and the appointment of a Committee on Parks on April 18, the Bachelder Ranch was purchased as the permanent site for the Chautauqua, and was promptly renamed Texado Park.

On May 12, construction of the Chautauqua Auditorium began, and on the Dining Hall a week later. Both were finished in time for the opening of the first Colorado Chautauqua season on July 4.

Obviously they had never heard of red tape!

Over the years, various other structures were built for administration, lodging, etc. The Chautauqua has seen its share of ups and downs over the last century. But it’s now a popular destination in the area. According to Wikipedia:

The Colorado Chautauqua gradually returned to its roots in the late 20th century, scheduling much more live music and a modest number of additional lectures. Jazz and bluegrass concerts were introduced, with good popular success. Guest performers have included composer-pianist Peter Kater, Native American flutist R. Carlos Nakai, Doc Watson, Hot Rize, George Winston, Bill Monroe, Lyle Lovett, Randy Newman, Bobby McFerrin, Bruce Cockburn, Suzanne Vega, Bela Fleck, Roger McGuinn, Loudon Wainwright III, Michelle Shocked, and the Boulder Philharmonic Orchestra, among others.

Besides these cultural attractions, Chautauqua Park also adjoins open space and trail heads that lead to the Flatirons and beyond, into the mountains. Chautauqua Park was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2006, and is now a thriving cultural attraction.

Arden Chase spent one scene in Profile engaging in nefarious online hijinks in Chautauqua Park, but other times spent some quality time with his daughter, Lanelle. If you haven’t read it yet, well, that’s because it’s not out yet. But it will be soon. Watch for it on July 21.

Then you can see some of what Boulder is all about.

Right. Like that’s what you’ll be reading it for!