New Jersey Sucks. But Music Makes Me Happy.

I WOKE UP AT 5 am today so I could drive to New Brunswick, NJ to present a lecture on entrepreneurial journalism at the Northern Short Course in Photojournalism.

That meant that I had to endure two of my least favorite things: 5 am and New Jersey. To survive the dreadful scenery of strip malls, jughandles and bland corporate parks, I blasted music with the window down and the heat cranked. These songs are some of the tunes that kept me sane in the annoying morning rush hour traffic.
(Ted Leo may be the only good thing to have ever come out of New Jersey).

If Kurt Cobain Were Still Alive, Would He Be Selling Body Spray?

I WROTE THIS essay for Wonka Vision magazine's online site. Thought I'd share it here as well.

Sometimes I think about Kurt Cobain and I thank him for never selling out. His early, self-imposed exit ensured that it would be his body of work that would stand for him, not his most recent releases, which would most certainly pale in comparison.

We’ve never had to suffer through a Nirvana reunion tour, experiments with 100-piece orchestras in the background, leaked phone messages of a strung-out Cobain barking at his children, tabloid images of Cobain with his arm draped around some teenaged starlet from Gossip Girl, or whatever. We don’t have to live with him preaching like Bono, writing self-righteous columns in the New York Times while hawking BlackBerrys on the side.

In my mind, Cobain will always be the shaggy guy in the fuzzy sweater, passionately belting out painfully personal lyrics. He will always be that principled artist, the one who scrawled “Corporate magazines still suck” on his t-shirt before being photographed for the cover of Rolling Stone.

I can’t imagine him being 43, which he would have been on February 20 if not for his suicide in 1994.

When Nirvana was huge, I was in college and invincible. I could drink all night, run through walls, jump off buildings, say anything to anyone, and never feel the repercussions. Homework? Bah. All I wanted to do was enjoy life, to savor every second. I appreciated what Cobain stood for and I vowed to never do anything just for money.

Ah, the arrogance of youth. I think back and cringe a little. I did some stupid stuff back then, even put myself in danger a few too many times. I didn’t think I’d live to see 40, and I most certainly could not imagine myself being an adult.

I’m 38 years old now. I’m no longer reckless and arrogant (at least, I try not to be arrogant). I’ve actually come to realize that I know nothing about anything, that facts are malleable and everything can be interpreted in different ways. There is not one clear path for all.

Many of my old friends now commute to real jobs, wear suits to work, and then return home late to their suburban expanses where they watch television with their children until bedtime. It’s amazing how easily the principles give way to reality.

With 40 fast approaching, I’m haunted by the notion that the end is near. It’s a silly, arbitrary fear lingering from nearly two decades ago. But it remains.

Death doesn’t scare me though, especially in comparison to leading a bland, sellout life. I’d hate to waste one single second doing bullshit.

My greatest desire in life isn’t money. It’s time. I need more hours in the day – to hang with friends, listen to music, read books, walk my dog, to smell the bacon emanating from the breakfast joint across the street from my house.

What would Kurt Cobain be doing now? What about the others we lost young, like Tupac, Sid Vicious, Janis Joplin or Bob Marley? Would they still be shaking things up? Would they be changing the world?

Or would they be Botox-ed and artificially baked, residing in generic, fenced-in mansions far from reality? Would they be sitting on Jay Leno’s couch pimping greatest hits albums and making cameo appearances in movie remakes?

I look to my grandparents as inspiration. They were born into this world with nothing and they struggled to make ends meet constantly. Life wasn’t always grand but it was real, visceral and invigorating. My grandfather drove backhoes and bulldozers. My grandmother packaged sausage, then drove a school bus in later years.

They never received proper educations but they built a wealth of knowledge because they lived life.

A few weeks ago, they told me that they made arrangements at a funeral home and cemetery so that when they pass, no one will have to endure those hassles during the most difficult of times. I realized that they were doing it for each other – at 86, one is more likely to go first rather than both at the same time. Their rational actions are as much for them as for anyone else.

Their presence proves there is a way to go through life with honor and integrity. Who knows what was going on in Cobain’s mind when he committed suicide – he had a history of depression and drug abuse. In his suicide note, he wrote that his daughter’s life would be so much happier without him.

It’s too bad that she never had the opportunity to appreciate him – and vice versa. But she can be proud of what he did when he was alive. I hope people will say the same about me some day.

Sometimes Nothin' Can Be a Real Cool Hand.

WHEN I WATCH Paul Newman repeatedly knocked down by George Kennedy in Cool Hand Luke, I love that Newman never quits. Sparring on the prison grounds, the larger Kennedy stomps Newman to the ground. But the dazed Newman keeps getting up, refusing to concede victory.

I've always admired Newman's character in the film, and the principles he maintained. He would never give in to the authorities simply because they are the authorities. If someone said he couldn't do something, he scoffed. Fifty eggs? Ha! He won't quit until he proves them wrong.

Funny thing about quitting: it's socially stigmatized. A quitter is good for nothing, the logic goes. Quitting is a sign of weakness. But why is that so universally accepted?

I thought of this as I considered dropping the class I was taking this semester. I'm letting them win if I drop, I thought. I can beat them.

Then I realized: who cares?

I'm taking classes now for the love of learning. I have no further aspirations as an academic (beyond teaching, that is). I'm in class just for fun. If I'm not enjoying myself, why do it?

What is it about society that forces us to think ill of those who quit? What happened in our collective past that created that ethos? I have no idea. But I have two quitting stories and they are among my favorite tales to tell.

First, my high school baseball coach did not mention me when he spoke to the local newspaper writer about our upcoming season during my senior year. When I read the paper and saw that the coach did not think enough of me, a starting pitcher, to include me among the important factors of the season, I quit. That day, I placed my neatly folded uniform on his office desk and never said another word to the man.

For two years in college, I mailed him the newspaper clippings about my pitching at the collegiate level.

A few years later, I quit my first full-time job, as a staff photographer for the York Dispatch. I had only been there six months and I was miserable. The town smelled funny, the paper was visually bad and the stories were rather dreadful. I had nothing lined up in terms of work.

When the managing editor asked me what I was going to do, I answered, "I don't know. Maybe drive to Florida and watch spring training baseball."

She replied, "Well that's awfully immature."

And I said, "I'm 22. I'm allowed to be immature."

Things worked out. I maintained my principles, primarily that I never wanted to work just for the money. If I ever found myself in a situation where I was only doing stuff to get paid, I would leave.

After much thought, I ultimately decided to drop the class I was taking this semester. I'm a quitter. I accept that.

Reaganomics, and the Downfall of Urban Areas.

THERE WERE ONCE more than 700 manufacturing plants in the city of Philadelphia, and they employed around 250,000 people.

Now, there are countless old factories in various states of decay, not to mention numerous old industrial structures that have been re-purposed as condos, offices, artist studios, stores and businesses of various sorts. Only 40,000 manufacturing jobs remain in the city and many of those employees now reside outside the city limits.

In Landscapes of Power, Sharon Zukin argues that market forces pushed industry out of the city, and ultimately out of the country. She writes that we are now a society of consumers, not producers. That's not exactly controversial. Then she says that the consumers are better off than the producers. Now I'm confused.

Her primary argument is that capitalism and public policy created the landscapes of America. Culture has the ability to draw people - and thus money - but Zukin speaks of culture less in terms of art and more in terms of commerce.

It's hard not to think of this work as a relic from the Reagan era, when money ruled the world and designer clothes were a sign of success.

We were a divided country back then as we are now, but the divisions seem wider now. The Baby Boomers have hit retirement age and their portfolios have plummeted in recent years. States are strapped for cash. Unemployment is the highest since Reagan ran the country. The national debt is ginormous and showing no signs of ever coming down to Earth.

In the age of telecommuting, can market forces continue to determine where we live? Aren't we beyond the garish display of wealth? Have we learned nothing from the recent economic crisis?

I found Zukin to be interesting and even poetic at times. I also found her research to be lacking concrete evidence, sometimes relying upon hers or other people's opinions and observations.

As a person interested in the fate of cities, and specifically this rust belt town that I live in, I wanted more from her than just saying that urban spaces are liminal areas that merge commerce with culture, space with time, and public with private. No kidding.

We need, she says, to create public value. We need to think about social return on investment to citizens rather than shareholders' financial return. Really? Good luck convincing Wall Street on that one.

Zukin's examinations of past experiences are interesting but what do we do with them? How do we apply those lessons? Where are the answers?

The Future Of Journalism: The J-Ecosystem.

EVERY "SAVE JOURNALISM" event is dominated by legacy media, people who are financially bound to the way things were. There are generally start-up folks as well, and they are concerned about sustaining themselves. Educators worry about getting funding. Rarely are there folks from the communities served, although that is not the point of this post.

The point is that we all have a vested interest in the future of journalism. Collaboration isn't the long-term solution, I don't believe, but it may be a bridge that buys time until the next funding model for journalism is fully developed.

The problem is that everyone asks, "What's in it for me?"

Well, we're in this together, folks. So how about this: let's create a journalism ecosystem.

I believe there is merit in my previous post regarding the Domino Effect. In that system, the smaller, niche operations get funding from non-profits and the larger outlets get on-the-ground manpower. The system could build and eventually become self-sustaining, I think, and maybe even profitable.

But that is just one-third of what we need.

First, I think we need to develop back-end services for start-up companies to ensure their longevity. There needs to be guidance for advertising, marketing, design and basic business skills. Non-profits may be the way these places begin but that is not a long-term business plan. These places need to learn to stand on their own.

Second, I think there needs to be journalism education. Niche operations as well as the communities served need media literacy training. This starts with the basics of reporting, multimedia information and legal training. But it would also move into ethics, the First Amendment, and criticism of the media. We all need to better understand the role of the journalist so that we can do a better job as journalists, and so we can demand better products as consumers.

The Domino Effect is the final part of the triangle - a website aggregating/ curating the community and niche outlet news, plus a quarterly investigative project. That creates a product as well as a process for important, relevant news to flow.

Everything would feed into each other. It would be holistic, in theory.

I imagine an umbrella group would need to be formed in order to make this happen, maybe something along the lines of the non-profit University City District or the original idea of the Associated Press. The various stakeholders would be involved in some way, though the editorial content should remain independent.

This all begins with collaboration. We can eliminate the massive redundancies in the media and use our resources more wisely. We can build something amazing and incredibly useful to the city.

Thoughts?

The Future Of Journalism: The Domino Effect.

TRADITIONAL MEDIA may be struggling but there is energy among content producers here in Philadelphia. There are a lot of people doing really cool stuff.

Today, the William Penn Foundation brought together a lot of those folks - established outlets and newbies - to discuss how we might all be able to work together.

Of course, we did not reach a consensus on anything. There was some harping about the 1960's, some ranting about philly.com, and a lot of concern about the general public receiving a comprehensive package of information. There was talk of creating a collaborative website that would also generate original reporting, though the reception of that proposal was rather lukewarm.

Overall, the day was enlightening. And it gave me an idea.

Rather than primarily creating a website dedicated to producing original content, I think there should be a website that aggregates content produced in various communities (geographic and thematic). For instance, there are numerous weekly, community newspapers in the city. Most of them have horrible websites that are difficult to search.

An aggregater would provide easy access for people looking for interesting and unusual stories in the city, i.e. the mainstream media.

The mainstream media primarily react to events now because they don't have the staffing to be proactive - sending reporters into various communities to see what is happening. This aggregater site would provide on-the-ground insight, showing the mainstream media that more happens in some neighborhoods than just the murder of the day. Stories could also be purchased and used by the mainstream media, or the mainstream media could do their own follow up investigations.

To complement the aggregater, I propose a quarterly print publication (and web component) that solely does long-form, investigative journalism. The investigative publication would be directed to high end audiences, people in powerful positions, and those who care deeply about public affairs. The investigative product would serve two purposes: 1). to dig into major issues impacting the city/ region and 2). to act as an agenda-setter for the mainstream media.

There would be sidebars next to the long-form pieces that break down the numbers so that sound-byte media can digest and distribute the information quickly and easily.

The idea would be to create a domino effect in the media because one story in one outlet is not enough anymore.

I think the model could be sustainable. The investigative work would be expensive. Some money could be generated through advertising on the aggregater site. Additional revenue would be generated by the quarterly print issue. The investigative content could also be sold to traditional media, or repurposed in other ways.

It would take start up money to get the wheels rolling, as advertisers would probably not invest in an unknown product.

This could be a way of making people care about the important issues that impact citizens' lives.

Just an idea. I'd appreciate any feedback.

Of Friends and Unfettered Thought.

THE FIVE GRADUATE STUDENTS live in an old home, far from everything including the village created to house the servants back in the old days. The students spend their days studying literature at Trinity College, reading, conversing, restoring the home and enjoying each others' company. They lead examined lives, pondering meanings in books and life, and they shun Capitalism in all its forms.

Everything is grand until one of them is murdered.

Tana French, author of The Likeness, delivers an implausible plot twist - an undercover detective, who happens to be the victim's mirror image, takes the victim's place in the house. We are expected to believe that the detective sufficiently learns enough about the victim to imitate her speech, actions and thoughts. And then the detective slides right into the victim's life, fooling everyone around her.

It's a stretch, for sure. And French spends the first 150 pages of the novel explaining the characters' history so that we buy the premise. The detective is rather brilliant and oddly similar to the victim, French writes.

Fortunately, French deftly builds these characters (the students, locals and law enforcement), giving them personalities and back stories. They are an intriguing group, weaved together expertly. There is also background on the Irish people, as well as the country and its difficult relationship with the British. The book is more than a police procedural, which it seemed like it would be in the beginning. The book is about why people do what they do.

I came to admire the students and their ability to live independently (albeit as a group). Their existences revolved around unfettered thought rather than the mundane musings of everyday life. They discussed and debated ideas, using literature as the support for their arguments. While the rest of the world is blogging and twittering, these students basked in conversation. They complemented each other, it seems, creating one whole.

I wish I had as much time to read as they do, and more friends to discuss literature with.

The Unbearable Arrogance of Being.

IT TAKES A CERTAIN amount of confidence to get through life. You have to believe in yourself and your abilities in order to make things happen - even the common, everyday stuff like driving, selecting fruit, raising children, etc.

When does confidence in oneself become arrogance? When does the politician (or plumber or accountant or teacher or whatever) go from being a person who believes in his or herself to a person who thinks they are the best person for the job? Nobody can do it better than I can, they believe. Is that arrogance?

I just finished reading David Carr's memoir, The Night of The Gun. It was an interesting read - an alt weekly journalist who became a crackhead, got cleaned up, suffered from cancer, raised twin girls, made it bigtime, became an alcoholic and then cleaned up again. His gimmick in this exercise in self-indulgence is that he reported his life rather than writing things as he remembered them. Many of the exploits occurred while he was under the influence of something - his memories can't be trusted. So he found police, legal and medical records and then interviewed friends, family and colleagues from his drug-addled days.

Carr's tales are often redundant and many are stereotypical, like a bad crime drama. But it was a fun, easy read with amazing insight into the thought process of the addict.

The book, I think, is really about addiction in all it's forms. Carr clearly was addicted to drugs and alcohol. But I think he was (and maybe continues to be) really addicted to life, and his place in it.

Is it arrogant to write a memoir? Isn't the author sharing their personal history in order to educate, or at least entertain? Aren't they saying that their life has value to others?

I searched for the purpose of Carr writing his life's story. On one hand, there is a huge sense of narcissism and arrogance. On the other hand, it's an entertaining and informative tale from a guy whose work I have respected for some time. I learned a lot.

Ultimately, I think that Carr wrote the book because of his zest for life. He documented his existence because he fears it won't last long. His track record and his family history point to a short lifespan, and he wants people to realize that he didn't waste his time or talent.

I can appreciate that. It's something I think about all the time.

History for the Common Man. Very Cool.

PHILLIES SHORTSTOP JIMMY ROLLINS (second from right) presented his 2008 championship season uniform to the Atwater Kent Museum of Philadelphia today. His jersey, cleats, hat, batting gloves and other accessories will be the centerpiece of the museum's sports exhibit when the museum re-opens in the fall of 2010.

"People live and breath sports in Philadelphia," said the museum's executive director, Viki Sand.

The World Is A Museum. Experience It.

AFTER 15 WEEKS OF discussion about the fate of museums and their connection to the public, I've come to two conclusions.

First, there is a disconnect between what curators present and what people want. People still travel and they make museums a part of their journey. I just can't help but wonder whether tourism and education necessarily go hand in hand. I get the feeling, some people are just going through the motions and not EXPERIENCING life.

Second, museums need a dedicated funding stream. They need to operate like small businesses and ensure their sustainability. A big part of that is developing a rock solid mission statement that takes their AUDIENCE into account. Too many museums, I fear, expect to be lauded for what they've done in the past. But the world is crazy these days, what with the Internet and all.

The takeaway from the semester? There is a story behind everything - people, buildings, streets ... even behind history itself. I'm fascinated by the notion that the majority of history is thrown out, deemed as irrelevant, and that people in high places essentially create a narrative that we are told is history.

Stories are all around us. Rather than wait for someone to explain them to me, I'm going to discover them on my own.