If September is the "Long Month" in the Japanese calendar, then February should be the "Short Month," right? Especially in a non-leap year like this one, but alas it's called the "Month of Wearing Extra Layers of Cloth," which reluctantly I've been doing on my rare ventures outside of the apartment these days. MJ scolds me for going outside without enough clothes on, but in my defense, it is much more liberating and aerodynamic to not wear a giant sweater to slow me down while running.
February has always felt like a transition month to me, whether it's because there's a Groundhog Day whose premise is whether to extend winter or not, or the batten-down-the-hatches weather as we await the promise of spring, or because it's always Black History month (it kind of feels like black history month every month now), nothing really memorable has really happened to me in February.
February may be a great time to read novels, especially really long novels like "Infinite Jest" by David Foster Wallace, a 1000+ beast that should get more fame as rivaling "War and Peace" in its length. The text definitely reads well though and in a very smart format, helping me understand why it was all the rage when it came out and critics crowned Wallace a genius. He also gripes a lot about tennis, which I can sympathize with: all the gentlemanly limitations of the sport and the frustrations of just hitting the ball back and forth. I'm probably missing some metaphor or allegory as to how tennis is related to life. It is notable, though, that unfortuantely Wallace took his own life at a young age, something I really can't fathom, but then again I'm not an award-winning writer who published a national bestseller. The more I live life, the more I realize life means so many different things to so many people (and oh are there so many people in the world, many of whom are smarter than I am, as can be seen on Jeopardy on a nightly basis). Life might feel like a cage for some who feel trapped within its walls of repetitveness, pain, suffering, and sadness, and the existentalist feelings of "why are we even here in the first place" and loss of control at being able to decide one's own fate or how long one's own life will go. So I can't say I sympathize or condone people who take their own life, but like drug use or thrill seeking I can at least begin to understand why someone might go down that path. Me personally, I'm just trying to get through each day and learn a new word or two in a different language, and a few new facts about the world. Has kept me sane and happy during this pandemic. Having a purpose helps to block out all the negativity. Maybe if Wallace was asked to write another classic like Infinite Jest? Who knows.
One of the things I realize I missed out on through my childhood is music- my parents never had any classic American rock, jazz, or pop songs playing in the background of the Yan household, for example, only classical music and the rhythmic melody of knvies chopping, rice cooking, and oil sizzling signaling the preparation of dinner every night. While classical music has some unforgettable hits, it's like comparing apples and oranges when hearing the best generation for music in human history, the 1960's-80's: The Beatles, The Eagles (that rhymes!), Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, then bam followed up by Michael Jackson, Prince, Queen, U2! Before my recent deep dive into trivia and Jeopardy "Revolver" and "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" sounded like combat in some sort of battle. How did they fit all these great bands together at the same time? How did people have time to do anything else?
Holy cow, what a time to be alive for music lovers. Today's generation has been inundated too much with pop and a pension for money and a quick buck, plus a music industry that is not as robust due to the lack of profits caused by this big thing called the internet, that and at some point it's like inventions: at some point all the good stuff has been taken. In some ways, though, maybe missing out on the Golden Age of music is good for me because I can listen to them anew "Like a Virgin," touched for the very first time.
What did I do instead of listening to those classics of music history when I was a kid? I learned Chinese and listened to Chicago Cubs baseball radio with announcers Pat Hughes and Ron Santo of course, but I remember LOVING to read books as a kid. Nothing better on a February non-school day to sit on the couch with a book and leaf through page after page and digesting, without today's distractions of marriage (just kidding, MJ), Iphones (the biggest distraction), and making money (I unfortunatley love making money more than reading books). Even so, I could never have read all the books that I wanted to, and books just keep piling up. Maybe my reading speed was not as fast as some of the brightest minds, but still I doubt that anyone has had the time to read ALL the classics of Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Truman Capote, Ellison, Morrison, etc., etc. The problem with me was that I didn't understand the books as well, I just liked a really good story with compelling characters and a good moving plot. I didn't pay attention to the themes and messages and (Bradbury, Orwell, Huxley, Golding) the comparisons to modern society. Shame; but maybe that's what kept me reading all the time; We all do our best and get motivated when we do something we enjoy. Hope everyone is able to find that purpose in their lives even in a dark and dreary month like the "Month of Wearing Extra Layers of Cloth."
Fantasize on,
Robert Yan
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