Imposterous

It seems Kurt Cobain had a touch of the “Impostor Syndrome” that has been semi-popular for people to yak about on social media o’er the last few years, and it was possibly an influence on the verbiage of his suicide note.*  It probably didn’t help that a number of his famous tunes were well-known for similarity to other people’s works, but anybody who can appreciate the kind of art our late lamented fella was laying down would agree that he did it well.  No fakin’.

Something I noticed at that wikipedia link above is that impostor syndrome is not officially recognized by the authorities on psychology, tho not specifically refuted either.  They just haven’t considered it of sufficient life impact to be considered a disorder, or diagnostic enough to be considered a symptom.  Officially.  It does seem to be a real thing, at least, that many people who are smart cool successful etc. feel they are faking it and feel likely to be discovered.  At that point, they must pull a Milli Vanilli and be done with the world.  As Freddie said, don’t do that.

Now to be very clear, I do not have impostor syndrome at all.  I am quite certain that I rule ass, altho I recognize that I am prone to speaking thoughtlessly and embarrassing myself, and am not a genius of the classic conception.  I am a very cool comrade, but sometimes I do feel kinda fake.  Particularly when I’m hustling for meaning.  My day in the life posts, my bird posts both tend to include some attempt at folksy profundity, like, ain’t that just the way?, or to draw connections Connections-style, which may be entirely unjustified, specious, or frivolous.

I’m probably being the most honest on those when I am being the most frivolous.  When I’m hinting around something deep, or spelling that out more bluntly, how legit is that?  My husband is more of a real artist about this stuff (probably no coincidence he has similar health problems to Cobain), gravitating to subjects he cannot express directly, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.  Art as a struggle.  I just get an idea, or work up an idea, and spit it out.  Blop.  Soup’s on.

I have said many many times that words are bullshit, that everything in our lives and in existence itself has a reality that words can’t even begin to approximate.  As Depeche Mode said, “feelings are intense; words are trivial.”  But where does that leave me, as a person who devotes an inordinate amount of their time to writing?

I once had a teenager tell me that the cool kids “don’t care,” specifically about learning or social order in the school environment, but I believe her ass was very mistaken.  The genuinely cool kids are the ones who know everything is bullshit, so they don’t bother talking about it, because what’s the point?  Not in a thought-terminating cliché or cruel way, just that life isn’t about whatever words we want to layer on it, and none of this is necessarily going anywhere.  That kinda stuff.  I’ve known people like this, loved a few of them.

So by this metric, where yakkin’ about stuff inherently makes you less real, more of an uptight square than the cool guy what doesn’t talk much, is everyone who writes inherently uncool?  No, cool people can make words happen in a conversation or in writing, but the approach to the words is different.  They would effortlessly say only what needs to be said, and if you understand it, that’s the extent to which you are cool, and if you didn’t, not their problem.  That’s them and here’s me, making words for the sake of words.  Writers are not inherently uncool, but I surely am.

OK, that’s me talking out my ass on a sultry summer night.  Did I not say earlier in this post that I am very cool?  I am.  Very cool.  Like, I read some of the shit Cat Valente blogs on a bottle of wine, and I win.  Take that, nerds.  RIP to impostor syndrome sufferers but I’m different.  Most of the time.  I’m good.  I’m good.

*As I researched the points of this first paragraph I became convinced it doesn’t hold up.  Not quite true; his death and that letter had more to do with anhedonia and old school depression.  I leave it in because it shows my line of thought as I was composing.  Wild that his note mentioned Freddie Mercury and I randomly mentioned him in the article before I went back and did the reading.  Ah, what a dismal thing to be pondering.

Life List: Yellow-Headed Blackbird

There’s a zoo in Kansas called Tanganyika Wildlife Park, and the fact it doesn’t have zoo in the name makes me wonder if they’re dodging regulation, like how cheese-themed products with no actual cheese in them are named Chezz Product™ or Chedze Matter©.  When my bro lived in KS he took us there.  His daughter was too high speed for our old asses and grabbed a snake by the tail.  Fortunately no harm no foul.  I fed a craisin® to a lemur and a big leaf to a giraffe.  Giraffe heads impressed me with their size the first time I did it, less so the second, altho maybe I was just disoriented by the heat and not really living in the moment.

The first time I went I remember noting there was an absurd variety of US-flavored “blackbirds,” aka icterids.  I saw grackles, boat-tailed grackles, brown-headed cowbirds, red-winged blackbirds, brewer’s blackbirds … unless my memory fails me on any of those particulars.  It’s been a minute.  But one that I can’t forget is from the second (and surely last) time I went:  yellow-headed blackbirds.

Yellow-headed blackbirds are not the most amazing thing going.  Cardinals are probably more fancy looking, with the crest and the sharp designs.  Still, that is some muffuckin’ bright yellow on their heads.  They look like a generic enough american blackbird, like an RWBB maybe, who traded in its red wing flash for a neon yellow football helmet.  The black and yellow is such a powerful and pleasing contrast, like bumblebee fuzz, it’s very appealing.

We saw a small flock in a short sparse tree near an animal enclosure, and my bro rushed to get a blurry pic or two.  Life list for both of us, and I doubt either of us will ever see them again.  Not sure the usual habitat and ways of these beasts, but they liked the sheisty zoo full of oversized ungulates.  I hope they’re still enjoying life in their way, wherever they may roam.

The Auction

What’s for sale?  Everything.  Tvngp would sell Texas to Mexico for 47 pesos.  I guess conservatives just love a white thief, even when it’s their own ass getting jacked.  Let’s play Orngdolph Shitler for a minute and call all the leaders of the world to Meryl Oggo to sell amurriKKKa’s gullible gluteus out, one hank of meat at a time.  Bidding is open!

Our land.  A ton of it is already owned by foreign investors, but let’s start forking over government land as well.  Six Flags Over Yellowstone, a subsidiary of Volkswagen-Daimler-Yamaha.

The Social Security Administration.  Home boy tried to nix the social security tax during his last year in office, which I don’t quite understand.  It’s meant to pay for this program, but as Dubya discovered in the naughts, you can also pillage it for other purposes with a rubber stamp congress of warhawking shitlords.  With this tax in place, when it’s not getting robbed for other things, the agency can actually make money.  That means it has value, which means somebody might be down to buy it.  The money that’s meant to keep you from subsisting on cat food when you’re too old to work, how would you like that turned into a hedge fund run by transnational casino owners?

Our nuclear power plants.  China owns a lot of US Treasury bonds, time to cash in those chips.  This one would amuse me so very much.

Our prisoners.  With private prisons already being a thing, some might already be owned by international corporations.  Reduce infrastructure costs and make it official.  Essentially if you get caught for jaywalking, you can be sold into slavery abroad.

The United States Marine Corps.  Army is land, Navy is sea, Air Force is air, Marine Corp is … what?  I guess alchemically they’d be fire, but that’s making them out to be cooler than they should be.  At any rate, they don’t make much sense to me conceptually, so you know damn well the Leather Lich doesn’t get it.  Sold!  I’d like to see what Denmark could do with a Marine Corp.  Maybe annex Yorkshire?

Our dignity as a sovereign nation.  Psych, he can’t sell this because we threw that in the garbage when we elected a linty ballsack as god-emperor.

Life List: Ruddy Turnstone and Surfbird

What does it mean to you, birdies, to run in a mixed flock?  What are you getting out of it?  Who are these other birds, to you?  I’ve seen pics of caracaras that get a black vulture buddy.  Similar sized birds of prey that look extremely different from each other.  Caracaras have a rep for being smarter than the average raptor, and maybe that includes an unusual amount of social flexibility?  Then there’s escaped budgies flying with the starlings…  It’s intriguing.

Less remarkable is when the birds look extremely similar, like when goldfinches fly with pine siskins, or are just a drab pair in general.  The first time I saw ruddy turnstones and surfbirds together, I assumed they were the male and female of the same species.  They were identical, save coloration.  I took some notes the old-fashioned way, may still have been using a flip-phone at the time, and remember one species had yellow-green legs like pencils, and the other had bright carrot orange legs.  Do I remember anything else about their appearances, in shades of brown black and white like 99% of other shorebirds?  Not at all.  I remembered them long enough to make the ID and then lost the memory.

We had gone to Ocean Shores on the Pacific coast of Washington state around the time of my birthday.  I got a fat chocolate cake which felt pretty cool.  That was the occasion when I saw brown pelicans looking like pterosaurs, saw their long skinny wing feathers amid the kelp on the shore.  There was a spit, a kind of rock wall heading out into the water, and on that spit I saw a bunch of shorebirds flying from spot to spot, gleaning food from the rocks.  Shorebirds can be very hard to see in field environments or at distance, because their coloration is effectively cryptic.  Bold black and white head markings break up shape, skinny legs are like blades of grass.  These guys were highly visible on the rocks, some with black and white markings kinda bold under the wings in flight.  So I crawled out there and got a closer look, which was a good time for me.

Sometimes a post will make me think of a song, and I link the yewchoob video for it.  The only ones that jumped out at me were Queen’s “Friends Will Be Friends” and Dionne Warwick’s “That’s What Friends Are For,” and I low-key hate both of those songs (as much as i <3 4eva other things on the Highlander soundtrack).  I often suggest topics of discussion and people seldom bite, but here goes: What unusual animal friendships have you witnessed?

Selection Selection

You can still join the RP by comment, open for two more players.  Catch up from the beginning here, just look at the most recent post, or whatever.

we know natural selection and sexual selection.  it’s pretty clear complex species have a kind of sociological selection, even if it isn’t the darwinism some would imagine.  what other kinds of selection could be happening?  all that’s needed for selection is a variable thing and another variable thing that filters the variety of the first.  what if there’s a kind of selection we haven’t identified yet that drives the cycle of mass extinctions?  people point to certain astronomical and geographical cycles but i’m thinking something more abstract.  i once wondered why diseases hurt and kill, when they could proliferate more if they did not do those things.  maybe what selects for them to cause harm is something we haven’t thought of yet (tho there were other explanations from commenters which seem more likely).

might be that sociological selection is understudied.  i could be using the wrong term and i don’t know the literature, don’t even know for sure that sociology is the field in which study would happen.  the way unregulated capitalism guts itself and ruins the world is actively selected for in some way.  superficially you can look at specific actions like the repeal of glass-steagall, but it’s part of a larger phenomenon which is out of control and strangling democracy.  i guess that one would be studied by radical economists, even tho it shouldn’t be radical because it’s blue-sky obvious from outside the schools that spawn alan greenspan clones.

i dimly recall some scientists believing that sexual selection was just one aspect of fitness selection and didn’t deserve equal footing.  people fond of the fascist version of natural selection would apply it very broadly, but i’m sure there are non-nazi justifications for doing so.  then again, that could just be humans trying to cram the natural world into neat little boxes for ease of understanding, when complexity and chaos are the true way of things.  If sexual selection is just natural selection junior, then natural selection (as fitness to the environment changing rates of mutant gene expression in populations) could itself be a concept nested within a larger framework, and in company with myriad categories of related phenomena.

i’m gonna start with the types of fitness i’ve discussed so far and list any others i can imagine off the top of my head.  feel free to add more in comments, or whatever you please.

type of selectionvariable Avariable B / the filter
natural selection — mutation — environmental fitness
sexual selection — costly displays — weird fetishes
sociological selection — cultural behavior — success of the culture
invisible hand shit — supply — demand (lol fake)
political corruption — personal ethics — lobbyist money
sexy water droplet on laura dern’s wrist — goin different directions — chaos

i never did get at what i was feeling, something bigger… but that’s all i got for now.  waking up for work in six hours…

Life List: Pileated Woodpecker

The pileated woodpecker is the largest woodpecker left in North America, not quite the largest remaining species in the world.  They aren’t especially rare, which is nice.  I’ve only ever seen them from down on the ground, while they were high in a treetop, or on a power line or utility pole.  I’ve heard the call a few times.  It doesn’t sound like Woody Woodpecker at all.  I’ve been lied to!

Woodpeckers are in a freaky offshoot of birdkind called Piciformes, which includes some guys you might not expect, such as toucans.  The tell is in the feet.  They have two front facing and two rear facing toes, allowing them to cling to the verticals of tree trunks more effectively.  OK, they are far from the only birds that do this -see parrots- but they do all have this trait in common.  Parrots are more closely related to falcons and songbirds than to woodpeckers, so this is a case of convergent evolution in funky feet.

It’s pretty cool that tha king of woodpeckin’ is so easy to find.  I’d like a better look at them, but the cost is costly.  My bipolar pater went big into birdfeeding, with specialized lures for the big boys, and was rewarded with some good looks at them, some photographs to commemorate it.  By the time he successfully brought them to the patio, neighbors were getting angry about the bird shit and noise.  It was one of the camelborne straws that caused him to lose that place, always trading down for something worse.

Who’s seen the pileated woodpecker, and did it cause you any trouble?

DEIteenth

When Biden was in office, the house and senate were dominated by rethugs, one way or another, right?  It felt like it, whatever the makeup of those bodies.  Somehow Juneteenth was made into the law of the land.  I assumed it was by executive action, but no, except insofar as the vice president was the tie-breaking vote.  Federal holidays have to be approved by the legislature.  Thank you, Mrs. Harris.  Surely, this holiday is abhorrent to those people who wistfully pine for the days when chattel slavery wasn’t restricted to the prison system.

In fact, does it fit their nebulous definition of evil wicked horrible DEI?  Does that mean it must be expunged?  But it was passed into law by the legislature, and would need to be repealed through the shit-flinging simian action of those twin asshole repositories.  Surely they won’t get that done in time for the occasion tomorrow.  What then?

I wonder that shitler might use an executive order to try to rename it “Orange Americans Day.”  Or just leave the day intact but use its existence to add insult to some other injurious bullshit.  Of particular relevance, he could do something to expand the horrors of the prison industrial complex.  I’m composing this post on the 16th.  Let’s see what has come to pass by the time it comes out of queue…

Life List: Downy Woodpecker

There’s this idea some woodpeckers evolve to look similar to larger / more dominant woodpeckers that live in the same area, to take advantage of rep established by a tougher beast, without having to invest in the body size to get tougher themselves.  I proposed in another article that “oregon morph” dark-eyed juncos may be doing the same thing with spotted towhees.  (My idea will be studied by actual scientists when hell freezes over.)  The go-to example in this area is downy woodpeckers trying to look like hairy woodpeckers.

They look similar enough, how can I know which one I’ve seen?  The one I distinctly recall was seen at a very great distance, which is precisely where my sense of scale breaks down.  Can I be sure I could tell the difference between a woodpecker six inches long and one that’s eight inches long, from seventy feet away?  It just seemed like such a small bird, I have to think it was the smaller of the two.  I could very easily be wrong.

Where was this rare beauty?  Near the top of a tall scraggly tree amid concrete on concrete, the Federal Way Transit Center.  There was more appropriate habitat for it in parks and residential area around lakes not far at all, as the bird flies, but that’s not where I saw it.  They could look almost like any old songbird, with more sparrowish proportions than most other woodpeckers, but they’re all black and white, not especially cryptic, and they hang onto trees vertically, without the flattened posture of a creeper or nuthatch.

Not an amazingly exciting bird, but it’s nice to know they’re around.  And that’s not a bad gig, impersonating a more successful person to gain their social cachet.  If I got a toupee and wore foundation, I could kinda look like Matt Damon, hawk crypto on Superb Owl Sunday, make a bank full of funny money.  Watch out!

Surreal Profundity and Philosophical Materialism

I didn’t really get the fact that recognition is a feeling and that feeling can be utterly mistaken, until I witnessed a guy having auras all day, ahead of his first grand mal seizure.  He kept “remembering a dream” in drowsy moments, followed by a rising sense of nausea.  It felt like he was remembering a dream, but he clearly was not.  One of them referred to a piece of media we had consumed together after the last time he had been asleep.

So déjà vu.  Being reflexively materialist, believing in nothing supernatural, I presumed there was an explanation for it that nobody bothered to mention, and this was it.  You can feel like you’re remembering or recognizing something that you have no prior experience with, very easily.  This can be associated with epilepsy, so get yer brain scanned if you have that feeling a lot.

That brings me to the point of the post.  There are other feelings that can be misled, can be a trick of the light.  The sense of the profound, of deep emotional meaning, that one can feel in a dream or in a piece of surreal art – that feeling can be total bullshit.  Yet it moves.  In fact, I’m kind of a junkie for it.  I love surreal art.  Touch the dreamsauce, feel some type of way.  It feels deep, but it almost certainly is not.

Does recognition of this diminish its power?  Perhaps.  Then I have to move onto the hard stuff.  David Lynch not enough, gotta pound Andalusian Dog into my weary veins.  That’s just consumption of the stuff; what about production?  I’d like to make art that feels important the way returning Excalibur to Betty Boop can feel important when you’re asleep.

How can I do that if I don’t genuinely believe it is important?  It’s like writing romance when you feel unromantic, writing comedy when you have cancer.  All I have for this right now is a question.  No answer.  If you have any ideas, hit me up.

Brainjackin: Abbott Handerson Thayer

Another type of post to add to the rotay, so I don’t run out of birdposts and dreamposts and discposts: Thunks I Stole from My Husband, aka Brainjackin’.  These won’t necessarily all be original thoughts or observations of his, run thru the filter of my misunderstanding.  Sometimes it will just be Things I Wouldn’t Know About if It Weren’t for Him.  Like this post, about Abbott Handerson Thayer’s hot idea.

OK, this idea might have crossed my horizon before, but it didn’t take root in my memory until my husband mentioned it to me one random evening.  Early 20th century painter Abbott Handerson Thayer was very successful in his own time, a man of letters as well as visual art.  Seems like everybody had to have big opinions about everything, and he put forth an idea on the topic of zoology, which may have been a good example of people talking outside their expertise.  According to Thayer, even boldly colored animals were actually adapted for camouflage.  After all, predator or prey, you have good reasons to wish to remain unseen.

In support of this idea, he used his exceptional painting skills to illustrate a book.  Very beautiful pictures of not-at-all cryptic (camouflaged) animals, in just the right circumstance that they could fade into a background.  Por ejemplo,

I think this guy was more famous for paintings of pretty girls, but this stuff is a lil more memorable in the scheme of things.  At least, to me.  Were peacocks adapted to blend in with bushes and trees?  Probably not, but the idea was at least good for producing some very cool art.  Thank you, Hander Thaybotson Randers.  Aw shit, I’m losing it already…