A Lesson in Waste and Bad Taste

Have you ever really noticed how much shit people throw away? I’ve been boycotting my car recently, not for environmental reasons, just because it’s a piece of crap, and when you slow down from 30 mph to 3 you really see all the garbage we toss onto the street.

I’ve been boycotting my car recently, not for environmental reasons, just because it’s a piece of crap, and when you slow down from 30 mph to 3 you really see all the garbage we toss onto the street. Not just the little stuff like fast food wrappings and empty water bottles, but TVs, computers, and furniture. It makes me wonder how many people go back for their hubcap when they hear it pop off?

This couch has been in front of my apartment building for a month.

No one has moved out of my apartment building either, so did someone leave it there, and passes it every day for the last month unconcerned that they’re responsible for it?

Or did someone drive from down the block and drop it off here so it wouldn’t be in front of their building? Who did this couch belong to and where is it going to end up? Surely there’s usable wood and recyclable metal in there. Someone will wind up with a few dollars from it.

Like the clothes you give to charity, that you think are going to go to the homeless, or disadvantaged children. This is where they end up.

The charities, after thinning the resalable domestic items and selling a bunch of the textile for use as industrial rags, sell the rest of the clothing to companies that ship them over to Africa, where they’re unloaded for cheap prices in “bend-over markets” to improverished Africans.

In the process the local African garment and textile industry are unable to compete against the cheap, and highly-sought after, American hand-me-downs. Not much money makes it to the homeless or the poor disadvantaged kids in America either. A small percentage.

So why do we allow this to happen?

Probably because it feels good to believe that we’re being thoughtful citizens by donating last season’s wardrobe to charity and questioning the ethics of this supply chain to Africa is too sticky an idea to get into. It’s bad enough to try to justify filling up the Navigator and spending $5 at Starbucks every day while the homeless man standing out front with the hungry, glazed look in his eye still sleeps underneath the freeway overpass with the pigeons.

From an ABC report last December.

Neil Kearney, general secretary of the Brussels based International Textile, Garment and Leather Workers Federation says the practice is exploitative, “It is neo colonialism in its purest form. It’s exporting poverty to Africa, a continent that is already exceedingly poor.”

This state of affairs upsets AnnMarie Resnick, a woman we met in Manhattan while she was donating clothes, who told ABC News: “It stinks. I don’t like it, but I would still give. There are a lot of people who are going to constantly profit, because this is probably happening with really nice people. With us — and we profit too — we get a tax deduction. If I knew how to send to Africa myself, I would.”

But on the other side of the argument, you could think of things in a different light, like this guy.

Brill, of the Secondary Recycled Textiles Association, told ABC News that it is a win-win situation. “It provides thousands of jobs here at home [in the U.S.] and it provides hundreds of thousands of jobs in Africa.” And he added: “It also diverts waste material that would otherwise go to land fill. It goes to recycling, so it helps to protect the environment.”

In other words, we’re dumping our trash over there and charging them for it. Charities pay their bills, exporters get rich, and Africans get to sport sweaters with the names of colleges they’ve never heard of on them.

Meanwhile, back in LA, there’s a couch available in the valley if you need one. You might as well pick yourself up a shelving unit also.

Maybe you need a mattress?

Let’s think about those springs and if they’re going to find new life somewhere?

Or are they just destined for a desert landfill?

Maybe another couch to go in the den?

All of this furniture popped up within less than six blocks from my apartment.

You could fill up your house with the junk dropped off on the curbs of Los Angeles. Some people certainly do. I found a mighty good lamp on the street one night. There wasn’t a moving truck around or an opened door. Just two lamps sitting there. I looked around and made a split second decision to take one of the lamps, knowing that such a good find wouldn’t last until morning.

The lamp worked but not the knob, it was sensitive and only worked when left between clicks, thus the reason someone was probably tossing it away. However, I’ve become adept at finding that sweet spot.

I sometimes wonder if it was possible that the owner was only leaving the lamp unguarded for a second and hadn’t meant to give it away.

Maybe someone was bringing a lot of stuff home and left the lamps behind momentarily. If there was more clutter with the lamps I wouldn’t have grabbed anything, I would have thought someone was moving in the middle of the night. Maybe a lover’s spat or a fleeing renter? Nothing big. They just looked like a couple of lamps that no one wanted anymore.

But I coveted the lamp.

My only reservation was that the lamps were on the sidewalk, not on the grass next to the curb. If it had been on the grass, that’s obviously fair game, once it passes the sidewalk that’s an open invitation to help yourself.

But the lamp was on the sidewalk, in no-man’s land, hence I sometimes wonder…

I don’t believe I stole the lamp, but it’s possible. If you’re reading this and that’s your lamp and you hadn’t meant to give it away, I’m sorry.

As far as my old clothes go, I think next time I’m taking them directly to a homeless mission downtown rather than the Goodwill.

The Arcade Fire and Emperor Norton

The Arcade Fire have a new album on the way and have recently delighted indie rock geeks like me with two new songs released to the Internet. They’re streaming one of them, Black Mirror, on their website.

The Arcade Fire is a band that I became a big fan of and, contrary to rock snob custom, I was truly happy to see them find success and a bigger audience.

But something about the new songs are throwing me off. They’re more muddy and cluttered and disengaging. Black Mirror is restrained, sluggish, and frustrating. Its lyrics are buried under a blur of instruments and, literally, thunder. By the time the emotional crescendo happens I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be singing along to. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me where the bombs will fall” feels phoned in.

Intervention has those classic Arcade Fire violins and Win Butler’s dreamlike melancholy but it falls flat as well. The beautiful, dense layers of Funeral feel piled on and gluttonous in these songs. True, they’re streams with poor quality, and I’ve only listened to them a dozen times or so, and it took a while to really get Funeral too, but I feel a huge letdown coming our way with their sophomore followup.

It’s a common occurrence in our flavor-of-the-month, flash-in-a-pan culture that hot bands find their audience abandoning them after a huge first record. Some bands that come to mind that set the world ablaze and then quickly faded are Hot Hot Heat, Broken Social Scene, The Strokes, The Streets, The Stills, actually most “The” bands, including The Killers.

Some of their second albums actually sold well but their initial fans were replaced by younger, more mainstream audiences and they became suddenly “uncool”. They weren’t all bad either, some of these albums were really good, maybe even better than the first, yet the shrug factor kicked in with the shaggy hair crowd. We’ve already heard it before and, more importantly, everyone else has heard it too making it, therefore, unlistenable.

We expect our bands to change their sound to prove their success and their talent and “artistry”, yet if it’s a change not to our ephemeral liking the merits of their first album are called into question. It’s a catch-22 for the artists. Rock fans are fickle and there’s a ton of bands out there, new music is always a click away. What you get are bands keeping their sound but basically doing more of what they think people liked from the first album. What rock critics call, “pushing it further”. Essentially they become a band doing themselves.

The Arcade Fire playing Arcade Fire songs.

I want to like the album, I really do. I try not to be a snob and turn my back on my favorite bands but it’s ingrained in my wiring. It’s an illness, like alcoholism, an epidemic in college towns and urban enclaves like Silver Lake and Williamsburg. It’s called Indietitis . The effects are devastating; barbers are starving, dance floors are empty, desperate bands are forced to call themselves longer and ever more ridiculous names all the while American Apparel sells t-shirts with naked pictures of bored Lolitas.

Like I said, I want to like the album, but my initial reaction to hearing these songs is a shrug. The first symptom of Indietitis.

* * *
In other music news. Actually, musical news. A San Francisco theater is running a musical based on one of my all-time favorite American heroes: Emperor Norton. Emperor of these United States and Protector of Mexico. If you’ve never heard of Emperor Norton that’s a shame, he’s worth an afternoon of your time.

From Wikipedia:

Joshua Abraham Norton (c. 1815 – January 8, 1880), also known as His Imperial Majesty Emperor Norton I, was a celebrated citizen of San Francisco who, in 1859, proclaimed himself “Emperor of these United States.” Although he had no political power, and his influence extended only so far as he was humored by those around him, he was treated deferentially in San Francisco, and currency issued in his name was honored in the establishments he frequented. Norton also wrote to Queen Victoria, and he was referred to as His Imperial Majesty by local citizens and in the newspaper obituaries announcing his death.

Though he was considered insane, or at least highly eccentric, the citizens of San Francisco celebrated his presence, his humor, and his deeds—among the most notorious being his “order” that the United States Congress be dissolved by force (which Congress and the U.S. Army ignored), and his numerous (some claim prophetic) decrees calling for a bridge to be built across San Francisco Bay. Mark Twain was co-resident in San Francisco during part of Emperor Norton’s “reign,” and the King in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is reportedly modeled after him.

Emperor Norton turned delusion into an artform and managed to convince an entire city to indulge with him in his fantasy. He was careful not to push the generosity or humor of its citizens and officials, thereby skillfully protecting his power and reign. He ate in fine restaurants and attended the theater with his two dogs in a booth saved for him.

The tale is even stranger because Joshua Norton began life in South Africa and came to San Francisco with a sizable inheritance for the time, $40,000. He turned that into a fortune buying a large portion of what is now Cow Hollow real estate. He lost it all when he bought up an entire shipment of rice, literally a boatload from Peru, just as the price of rice dropped when a flood of rice came beside it in other ships. That’s when he disappeared from the city.

Before hs financial ruin there was no sign of the emperor.

The Civil War was raging in the newspapers, far away from San Francisco, this provided the backdrop for his rise to power. The people of the wild, post-gold rush city that was San Francisco in the 1860’s drew almost childlike comfort from the Emperor. He would make the rounds in his beaver hat, confederate pants, union jacket, sword, and cane and the people on the street would address him affectionately as if he really were the emperor. When the police arrested him for being the madman that he was, there was protests outside the jail and clamor in the papers. They let him out and apologized and from that day forward police were instructed to salute the emperor on the streets.

He received letters from the Queen Victoria, who it was rumored he was to marry. He broke up a race riot with the Lord’s prayer. He talked philosophy with Mark Twain. He met the King of Brazil. Not bad for a beggar.

One of his decrees even showed disdain for the word that so irritates San Franciscans to this day.

Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word “Frisco”, which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor, and shall pay into the Imperial Treasury as penalty the sum of twenty-five dollars.

Emperor Norton collapsed on the street one day to the horror of his subjects and despite their efforts to save him passed a few hours later. Journalists raided his apartment for clues to his mysterious life but the empty room only proved that he really was penniless, despite speculation otherwise. His was the largest funeral in San Francisco ever and still is. The day after saw a solar eclipse.

I haven’t heard word on how good the musical is but I am treating myself to a showing for my birthday. I haven’t been to a musical in seventeen years, since Les Miserables. One celebrating the life of such an inspiring figure is a good reason to return to the theater and seems like a wholly appropriate way to mark your thirty-first. Dinner and a play in San Francisco.

Times are strange and cranky and there are some things in the news that make me want to shit my pants but we still have the arts, music, theater, books, laughter, and silliness.

Getting old is fun kids, don’t be scared.

It could be worse.