Yamaha P-255 Digital Piano Review

When I was searching for a digital piano, I found online product reviews very helpful. So three weeks after my purchase, I want to give back by contributing a review of my own.

I studied piano as an adolescent and then played, performed, and recorded a little as a sometimes serious amateur. My acoustic piano stayed with my parents when I left home. My living space is on an upper floor with no elevator, so it would be challenge to get my acoustic piano in here. And I don't know if I would ever want to disturb my downstairs neighbor with the sound of it.

I have a Yamaha PSR-292 keyboard that I bought in 2002 for $300. In the age of the iPhone with a lifespan of only two or three years, I am impressed that the PSR-292 works like new after 14 years and occasional heavy use. And I have always liked how it has a half-decent piano sound. But with only 61 keys that are organ style, it will never play like an acoustic piano.

I began my search for a digital piano with my first trip to Guitar Center in probably ten years. I was immediately encouraged at the range of affordable choices. I played Yamaha, Williams, and Casio models that all seemed to have decent hammer action for under $1,000. I admired the simplicity of the controls on Yamaha's cheapest model with weighted keys, the P-45, which costs only $400. And the DGX-660, with its many sounds and fun features, appealed to me too.

It was at this stage when I think I knew I disliked the cheaper feel of the Casio and Williams models. Some Casio models had an iPhone-style touch screen that I worried would only last as long as an iPhone. So I focused on the Yamahas and learned about their hammer action, key surface materials, and sounds. I considered the Arius models that are designed to look almost like actual pianos, but soon determined that I would not be putting the piano in a part of the house where the appearance mattered.

I understood that the P-255 ($1,300) has Yamaha's Graded Key rather than Graded Key Standard action, as well as synthetic key ivory key surfaces, putting it above the P-45, P-115, and DGX-660. The internal speakers of the P-255 are more powerful than these lesser models too. Another pianist strongly advised me to get a model with wooden keys, but such models start at $3,500, which was much more than I was prepared to spend.

I drove an hour to try models models which people online suggest as alternatives outside Yamaha's lineup. The Kawai ES8 seemed like a very solid product, but $2,000 plus accessories was outside my budget. I also liked the feel, sound, and features of the Roland FP-80 and could afford it at $1,400 (plus accessories). But honestly the lighted buttons annoyed me and I got the feeling that if I went with Roland, the FP-90 would have been right for me, but at $1,800 plus accessories, it too pushed the limits of my budget.

I took a final good look at the full array of models at a Yamaha showroom. I could have gotten a decent deal on one of the least expensive Clavanovas. But I felt strongly at that point that the P-255 would suit me. I also could have raised my budget limit and found a world of great options. But while I understand spending thousands on an acoustic piano that can last generations, I couldn't justify spending the same on an electronic device that might last ten years.

In the end, a local dealer offered to come close enough to Guitar Center's price for a bundle with basic stand and bench, so I was happy avoid buying it from the chain store. It feel greats to have the piano touch and sound again. I have actually connected my PSR's output to the new piano's aux in to access the hundreds of sounds and beats of my old machine, which can be recorded in .wav format to USB on the P-255. This gives me access to most of what I would have had I bought the feature rich DGX-660 with its inferior key action and sound.

The 255 has only 24 voices and 10 rhythms. But the piano sound is excellent. And I have fallen for the two digital piano voices and both Hammond organ sounds. These are rich and crisp and have given me a new appreciation for the instruments being sampled. However, I understand that to really play it like a Hammond, I would need draw bars, non-weighted keys, a volume pedal, and pedal base notes. So I wouldn't suggest the 255 for someone who wants a full Hammond organ experience. I haven't played much yet with the other sounds, but I already know the 255's strings aren't better or worse than my PSR's.

The 255's 10 rhythms sound very good. But even for a basic beat, I use the PSR because the rhythms are easier to access and control than they are on the 255 with the elegant minimalism of its controls. Since the 255 only has a three-digit LCD display, the iPad app (a cable or Bluetooth adapter must be purchased separately) provides easier access to the piano's functions, but nothing else. In fact, I don't find the app very user friendly.

Although better than on the lesser models, the sound quality of the 255's internal speakers is just OK. This may be the case with all the portable digital pianos. I know higher end digital pianos have a superior internal speaker setup. And quality stage digital pianos lack internal speakers altogether, requiring external amplification. So I accept the limitations of the 255's internal speakers because the alternatives would be very expensive. I have seen the 255 sold with a sub-woofer, and I think that is something I may consider. But for now I experience the product's best sound quality through a pair of professional headphones.

I use the included sustain pedal, but it moves away from me a half centimeter each time I use it. I am thinking of getting the wooden stand and connecting triple pedal unit because my current X stand wobbles and I would like the pedal to stay in the right place.

Overall I am pleased with my purchase. Through my research, I learned quite a lot about the strengths and limitations of digital pianos under $2000 and continue to feel justified in my decision. The bounce of the emulated piano keys make me feel like I am walking on the moon when I play and I love it.

The Joy of Coffee

My partner and I splurged on an espresso machine recently. This is the culmination of years of making coffee with a variety of methods. Just for the fun of it, I'm going to share some reflections on all this here.

I think I first began drinking coffee as a teenager. It was Starbucks with cream and sugar. I didn't become a real coffee addict until years later when I would need it to get through a work shift or a college class. I drank a lot of Dunkin Donuts coffee, but I was never especially excited about. In fact, I remember the the taste often being off.

A few years ago a friend introduced me to the French press. He may have been convinced that the press produces the best tasting coffee. And in years since, I have had a lot of French press coffee, but mostly because it is often the easiest and most convenient way for me to make a single cup of coffee. Perhaps instant coffee is easier, and I used to do that, but I lost of ability to tolerate it. But I wasn't a coffee snob. I would sometimes drink reheated coffee that had sat in a pot for a whole weekend.

I began occasionally getting iced Americano coffee at a cafe near my office. I think that elevated my standards. The iced Americano I order is two espresso shots with ice and water. It is equal in strength to a typical Starbucks iced coffee. But because it is made to order with espresso, it is as fresh as iced coffee can be. I find that is has a slight nutty flavor that regular iced lacks.

So then I traveled abroad to places where espresso is the standard form which coffee is served and I became addicted to that. I bought a moka pot as an inexpensive way to make espresso. I understand now that while it produces nice coffee, it isn't true espresso.

But now we did it. We had our eye on an espresso machine that would have been quite expensive for us. When we found it nearly half-priced refurbed, we bought it. And it is a blast. The geekery required for getting it right is joyful. To achieve the right pressure and brew speed, you have to grind the beans right and tamp it firmly enough. It seems to matter that I run the machine without grounds first to preheat all the parts.

And the result is real espresso, with texture and flavor you don't get with other methods. A straight shot brings me back to my overseas adventures. A hot Americano is just a good cup of coffee. I'm inept at frothing milk for lattes and cappuccinos, so I will have to practice that.

So coffee is on my mind, now that my household has four different devices for making coffee: a standard drip coffeemaker, a French press, a moka pot, and an espresso machine. 

Stuff

Thinking. Reflecting.

Take Me to the River

SPOILERS BELOW

I'd been very eager to see Take me to the River since seeing a trailer for it last year. It wasn't in many theaters, so I was pleased when it was finally available through a streaming service.

The movie is about Ryder, a Californian teenager attending a family reunion on the Nebraskan farm where his mother grew up. We learn that the family has a history of some kind of sexual impropriety. It is never fully revealed, but the pieces we are given show that it has damaged Ryder's mother, and may be continuing within the new generation.

Ryder, as best we can see, is a well adjusted young man who has developed a healthy sexual identity. He is gay, and he and his family have no problem with that. Online reviews of the movie have pointed out that there isn't explicit bigotry toward him on the farm. His relatives of a similar age make fun of his short shorts, but they are otherwise gentle.

However, much of what we see points toward the Nebraskan relatives being sexually dysfunctional, in contrast with Ryder's comfort with his sexual identity. I wonder if the members of Ryder's extended family are jealous that he is open and at ease with his sexuality, regardless of his orientation. His sexuality is a healthy part of who he is, as opposed to the misdirected sexual energy of the Nebraskans that takes them to dark places.

Perhaps the most charged scene--really a bubble that doesn't pop--is when Uncle Keith teaches Ryder how to handle a gun. Keith had retracted his accusation that Ryder had sexually assaulted Molly, his nine-year-old daughter, and has welcomed him into his home for a meal. Then they are there on the porch passing a loaded weapon back and forth. Is Keith just being kind, teaching Ryder a life skill he couldn't gain in California? Or is it part of a sick mind game of a dangerous and manipulative person?

Keith oddly leaves Molly and Ryder together in her bedroom with the door closed. And Keith whispers in Molly's ear before Molly takes Ryder to the river where she does what she calls a "chicken fight" sexual horsey game to him when sitting on his shoulders. Thank you to online reviewers who wonder whether Keith is tying to get Ryder to molest his daughter.

Ryder has gown up separated from his Nebraskan roots, and he should be thankful for that. But being disconnected from one's roots leads to a hungry curiosity to discover what has been missed. Ryder discovers it, with its layers of pain and shame that burden his mother. Upon discovering the abuse she experienced, he has the wherewithal, even as a teenager, to respond with love and support. It is that whole and loving person that moves about the family reunion bemusedly, patiently navigating through the strange surface of a troubled family.

Brazil on My Mind

My love affair with Brazil, that began a few years ago when I was studying the Portuguese language, has been rekindled by the Rio Olympics.

Brazil is a continental, megadiverse, former European colony, which, not unlike the United States, has long since eclipsed its colonial parent. More people live just within the City of Sao Paulo than in all of Portugal. It still of course has a third world edge to it with extreme poverty, inequality, racism, and crime. Its infrastructure is in rough shape. It has a reputation for reverting to its political and economic norm of instability and chaos after occasional progress. If the current president is impeached as expected, it won't be the first. Heck, the country has even had a sitting president commit suicide.

Brazil's story isn't all tragic. The country's return to robust democratic governance a generation ago after multiple bouts with dictatorial rule is inspiring. And runaway inflation seems to be a thing of the past, with an almost normal economy which, though in rough shape now, grew through the recent worldwide financial crisis.

I sometimes find myself lost in the beauty of Bossa Nova, a music that only Brazil could create. African Samba and American Jazz were mixed, resulting in something different than both. That kind of mad science musical experimentation lived on in Brazil's later Tropicalia movement.

There is great beauty to be found in Brazil's architecture. But nothing is as wild as Oscar Niemeyer, a sort of Architect Laureate for the nation. He designed the iconic mid-century buildings of Brasilia, and countless more, as he continued working into the the 21st Century.

Brazil created the biggest innovation in urban transportation since the first subway trains. Cities all over the world are building Bus Rapid Transit systems, inspired by the first in Curitiba. The idea is that there is nothing sacred about trains; a creatively designed bus system can move as many people as a subway system and just as fast, at a fraction of the cost.

So this American is watching the Olympics with fondness, enjoying the backdrop of a fascinating and beautiful country.

The four seasons of Kunstler's World Made by Hand

I had the pleasure of reading The Harrows of Spring, James Howard Kunstler's final installment in his world made by hand series. The four books align with four seasons in a year in the life of the small Upstate New York farming village of Union Grove after the collapse of modern technoindustrial society.

The books are as follows:

Summer: World Made by Hand
Fall: The Witch of Hebron
Winter: A History of the Future
Spring: The Harrows of Spring

I think the collection would adapt well into a TV miniseries. The characters and storytelling are fairly solid, and four novels could fill a number of television hours. If done well (as much television is lately), I would love to see the preindustrial scenery visualized. With decent acting, it would be lovely to see some of Kunstler's peculiar actor's come to life on the screen.

I usually find myself trying to hold onto my own version of a novel's imagery against the threat of the actual visuals of a film adaption. Maybe I would only want to see my own version of World Made by Hand's imagery adapted to a miniseries.

Empire Falls

So I just watched the HBO miniseries adaption of Richard Russo's empire falls and found it to be freaking great. I think it helped sate a new hunger I have for quality storytelling. I made the mistake of starting to watch the new TV Series American Gothic, which is a little fun but a lot of awful.

In American Gothic, the characters are very poorly developed. The cartoonist looks like a cartoonist. The junky looks like a junky. The guy who ran off to live in the Maine woods looks just like someone who would do that. The main characters of Empire Falls are complex and evoke our curiosity and empathy. These Mainers are a breath of fresh air to me.

The story of Empire Falls is hence driven by these masterfully crafted characters. But the declined Maine mill town of Empire Falls is a finely crafted layer in the story too. The town's textile mill was the community's source of prosperity before it closed and residents continue to mourn its loss and fantasize about it reopening a generation later.

The American rust belt is not limited to the Midwest. To be sure, Boston, New York City, and some smaller pockets of the Northeast are very prosperous. But the region is also peppered with post-industrial cities that continue to struggle. Examples include Lawrence, Fitchburg, and Lowell, Massachusetts; Biddeford and Skowhegan, Maine; and Rochester, and Buffalo, New York. Buffalo, in fact, is in about as bad shape as Detroit.

I'd be interested in other stories with a backdrop of deindustrialization. It is an big part of the story of late Twentieth Century America and it needs to be told. It is certainly part of Maine's story.

The Deeper History of the United States

There is a certain beauty in how place names in the United States are a mix of English, French, Spanish, and native. Here in the northeast there is certainly an abundance of Indian place names. Examples include Massachusetts, Connecticut, Nantucket, Narraganset, Pawtucket, and Montauk. And many places with European names have known Indian names that live on in one way or another, such as Shawmut (Boston) and Naumkeag (Salem).

The Northeast has no monopoly on Indian place names; about half of all states have pre-European names. But what is peculiar here is that while there are countless Indian names, there are virtually no Indians here.

When half of our places have Indian names, but there are no Indians, one has to wonder what happened. The answer is partly cruel European domination that resulted in the relocation and death of countless natives. But 70-90% of the Indian population of coastal Massachusetts died of infectious disease prior to the landing of the Pilgrims. I will always wonder how things would have turned out if disease was not a factor. The natives would have been stronger than the weak and unprepared Pilgrims and any of the settlers that followed in the decades after. Without being decimated by disease, the Indians could have adopted enough European technology and practices to remain equal enough to have a real voice in the disposition of their lands. The map of North America would look vastly different than it does today.

At any rate, there are indeed surviving Northeastern Indians, such as the Mashantucket Pequots, and their story is remarkable. At one point, only two woman were living year round on their tribal land in southeastern Connecticut. The Pequots have since gained federal recognition, developed a major casino as their tribe's economic engine, and drawn hundreds of tribe members back to the land.

There are upwards of 3,000,000 to 5,000,000 American Indians today. No one will ever know exactly what North America's Indian population was in 1491. Wikipedia references estimates ranging from 1,000,000 to 18,000,000. But the current number is reassuring, as there are millions of descendants of natives that link this country to its pre-Columbian roots.

Indian history is a deeper history of the United States. Our story begins not in 1620 or 1492, but instead around 12,000 BC when migrants first crossed the Bering Strait.

Moon (film)

I was disappointed with The Martian because it could have been a powerful space exploration drama, but for the film's insistent comedy. So I was pleased to see that Moon, released in 2009 but unnoticed at the time by me, did not have the same problem.

Moon has a plausible enough premise. In the near future, a private company is harvesting the moon's raw materials for use on earth. The robotic machinery is overseen by Sam Bell, the single moon resident on a 3-year contract. Gerty, the artificial intelligence that assists him in his work, is the closet thing Sam has to human company.

The movie has a handful of humorous scenes. But they are very dark. Plus, they are integral to the story. I think that in film, sex and violence work only when they are important to the story. Otherwise they are gratuitous. The Martian makes me think the same about comedy in a dramatic movie.

I suppose someone might think the lone astronaut's interactions with an AI are too similar to such scenes in 2001: A Space Odyssey. But I think that is going to be an increasingly common element of movies as space exploration and AI become more than fictional speculation.

Overall, Moon is smart and solid. The freaky part of the story, which I don't want to spoil for those who have yet to see it, is Charlie Kaufman level creativity. Moon's director and co-writer Duncan Jones (who happens to be David Bowie's son) may have a promising film career ahead.

Woody Allen's Irrational Man

Thanks to Comcast OnDemand, I finally was able to see Woody Allen's Irrational Man. It had been at the top of my movies-to-see list for quite awhile, despite tepid reviews.

Something about the movie reads like a novel to me. It is intellectual and philosophical and not very Hollywood. It may have been characterized by my cable company as a comedy, but it isn't one.

I found the movie hugely satisfying. Any story set on a small private New England college will feel warm to me. Maybe that is because my favorite novel, which will always be in my heart, Donna Tartt's The Secret History, is set at a vaguely fictional small private New England college. Also, both novels center on a murder that felt justified, but destroys the killers.

Deep into his senior years, Woody Allen is making great movies. I loved the Curse of the Jade Scorpion, which was one of the final films he starred it. Removing himself from the cast allowed him to grow using other leads. So has setting his films outside New York. In Match Point, he owns London as he tells a thrilling tale of lust, murder, and luck. The French capital is all his in Midnight in Paris, where he brings the the 1920s French cultural scene to life.

I don't like every Woody Allen movie. He acknowledges that they don't all turn out well. But I think he is like those famous architects who reach their prime as old men.

The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon

I knew reading the beautifully titled novel, The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon, was a risk. After reading Tom Spanbauer's more recent novel, the self-absorbed virtual autobiography I Loved You More, had been a waste of my time.

The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon's narrator is a young Indian bisexual prostitute in Idaho in the early 20th Century determined to discover the meaning of his Indian name and connect with his roots, severed by his mother's early death. Shed, as he is nicknamed, narrates with a raw innocence, as if all the world is new. His narration is often lightly poetic. When he lacks the right words, his descriptions are pure and beautiful.

The novel presents sexuality openly and graphically, and in doing so, it explores gender, identity, and life itself the way only Shed's mix of ignorance and enlightenment can. Spanbauer is fearless and shies away from nothing, with his unembellished scenes of rape and incest. This is not unlike Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White, which reads like a Dickens novel if Dickens had included included honest sexuality. Here we have an American Western novel with honest sexuality.

The cruel and righteous Mormons of Excellent, Idaho will make you laugh. The starving Indians clinging to the remnants of their culture will move you. The ending will turn Shed's world upside down.

It is odd to me that the pure fiction of The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon feels more real to me than Spanbauer's more autobiographical I Loved You More. Spanbauer has a real gift to put himself in the shoes, the body, and the history of someone so unlike himself. The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon is a mind expanding work of art.

Your body wants you to regain weight

A fascinating article in the New York Times reveals what most people already know: that substantial weight loss is often followed by weight gain.

Fourteen contestants from the 2009 season of The Biggest Loser participated in a study of how they fared keeping their weight off long term. Five regained all the weight or more. The single contestant who kept the weight off (and actually went on to lose more) happens to have lost the least during the show. The season's winner, Danny Cahill, lost a whopping 239 pounds, but has since gained 100 back. Danny was a fitness and diet warrior, working out hours each day and eating a consistently careful diet.

The problem , researchers say, is that the body fights weight loss by slowing metabolism and altering the production of hormones related to one's sense of hunger and fullness. That makes great sense biologically. We and our animal ancestors evolved to avoid starving to death.

The implications of this are serious. Perhaps people who are overweight should focus first on maintaining one's weight--that is, avoiding gaining more weight. Then we may need to know more about what pace of weight loss is maintainable in the long term without substantially altering metabolism and hunger hormones.

It may be be that we who are overweight need to accept ourselves this way. If you are fat now, you will likely be fat a few years from now, even if you aggressively lose weight between then and now. Your body today is your body tomorrow.

Birdman!

I've heard it said that this is a golden age of television. There are countless phenomenal shows worth our attention. There are still good movies being made, but seemingly fewer. I finally had a chance to see the critically acclaimed Birdman, one of these better movies. I was impressed with its originality, self-reflection, dark humor, and ability to bring out that humanity in difficult characters. It made me think of some of the best movies from recent years. Or maybe not all that recent, since as I age, 20 years ago feels like yesterday.

Birdman feels like a play adapted to the screen, since 90% of it takes place in one building (a theater, no less), and it doesn't use elaborate sets. It is a lot like the movie Doubt in that sense, which was in fact adapted from the stage.

Riggan Thomson, the protagonist in Birdman, is not that different from Bob Harris in Lost in Translation: an aging Hollywood acting trying to find his place in the world.

The movie is a big middle finger to blockbuster action films. The viewer gets the sense that although his Birdman trilogy was a tremendous financial success, it did not give Thomson much fulfillment as an actor. When a theater critic tells him that he is not an actor, but a mere celebrity, he does not dispute that, knowing that he is out to change that through his stage performance.

Charlie Kaufman's Synecdouche, New York, is way too radical a movie to even register much in my mind. But I caught an echo of it in Birdman with the story within a story that ties into the protagonist's evolution.

These comparison's are not to put Birdman down. The opposite, really. The movie shares qualities with these other films that are some most creative, original, and mind-expanding of recent years. And kudos again to Michael Keaton. After decades on film, with Birdman and Spotlight he is now doing his best work.

I loved this novel less

Online summaries drew me to Tom Spanbauer's novel, I Loved You More, about a Young Gay Writer in NYC in the 1980s, who is then a middle-aged writer with AIDS in Portland, Oregon in the 1990s. And there is certainly a quality to the book. Spanbaur's prose is unique and personal. He captures eloquently how AIDS took the protagonists' health, sanity, and the lives of his friends and lovers.

I was not much moved by the protagonist's drama. His dad was too macho, his mom nuts, his sister too much of a twisted parent filling in where his parents lapsed. And the phenomenon of people unexpectedly surviving AIDS thanks to the new drug cocktails in the mid 1990s is more compellingly covered in Paul Russell's War Against the Animals.

I picked up Spanbaur's early Novel, The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon, because the title is beautiful and what I know of the book sounds interesting. I hope it is not another mistake.

Badass Marathoners

I've never been into major league sports culture. It all looks like thuggery on the field and douchebaggery in the stands. It seems cruel when sports reporters put a microphone in front of a footballer so that he can stumble through an explanation of how his team won by scoring the most points. And I am so freaking tired of hearing sports fans say "we won" or "we lost", as though they are out there on the field playing.

But let me tell you what moves me. I watched some of the Boston marathon coverage today and I saw a man who lost his legs in the 2013 marathon bombing running the race with prosthetics. There are paraplegics who compete on the wheelchair race. Parents run pushing a disabled child.

These people are badass, but there is no thuggery there. They are peaceful warriors fighting to be their very best. The accept the reality of their limitations, but fight to excel anyway.

That inspires me.

The folly of annual job reviews

The idea of annual job reviews makes sense. Employers should want to be attuned to employees' performance for obvious reasons.  But in all the jobs I've had, there has never been a sensible review process.

At one job I had (let's call it Job A), my annual raise was tied to my annual performance review. I think that is fair as can be. However, the company levied a substantial penalty for the first sick day one took. If they are trying to reward perfect attendance, they should spread the word about this policy to all new employees. (Maybe it is in the handbook.) But I know very well that the best employees who bring the most value to a company are going to take some sick days. And they will probably be turned off by the expectation that an ideal employee take no sick days. I do, though, respect my employer at Job A for having a substantive annual review process, tied to compensation, for fairly low-paid and unskilled employees. It sends the message that they take interest in their workers.

At Job B, which was higher paying and involved the welfare and safety of the people I served, there was not a serious annual review process. It was a self-evaluation that was turned into a supervisor. Once or twice the supervisor met with me after, but did not discuss the review with me. Maybe the self-evaluation could have been more valuable if the supervisor expressed interest in it.

Job C is a professional position where my supervisor takes a very real interest in his staff's performance. Annual reviews are upon request of the employee and consist of a simple meeting. This is not a very serious review to me. But because the supervisor takes an interest year round in performance, it might not be needed.

I am trying something new now. I am a dedicated professional who wants to excel in his career. Since no annual review process has helped me much, I am doing my own. I am making a confidential table of my strengths, weaknesses, accomplishments, and failures as I see them. I think I will then go through the table and come up with ideas for addressing my shortcomings and building on the good things. I may then pull a limited number of goals from all that that can guide my professional development. Job B required an annual self-evaluation, but the employer didn't value it. I think the difference with a confidential self-evaluation is that I can be free to be honestly and deeply introspective.

Crashing and burning

In Crash and Burn, Artie Lange (and cowriter Anthony Bozza) chronicles his extreme drug use. It is really something for an Artie Lange fan, who has followed him on the Howard Stern show over the years, to learn how he was high throughout most it. He had been upfront that he struggled off and on with booze, coke, and heroin. But the books reveals that it was much worse than he let on at the time. When he dozed off during the radio show, it wasn't because he was tired from performing comedy shows on weekends--it was because he was either high or struggling between highs. There was even a very hilarious appearance on Conan that he now reveals he can't remember at all because he was blacked out during the interview.

Artie sometimes credits his huge success as a comedian with the exposure he got from being on the Stern show, and he isn't wrong. But he landed the Stern gig because he is extremely talented and very hard working. He pulled himself from working class beginnings to wealth and fame.

It doesn't bode well for his chances at recovering that he is hilarious when he is on drugs, since he is a professional comedian. The fame and fortune probably don't help either. If he still had the pressures of a more regular life, his worst tenancies might be tempered. I think Michael Jackson is the most extreme example of that. If he were just a regular guy who is insecure about his appearance and struggles to sleep at night, would he have had multiple cosmetic surgeries and a personal physician injecting him with powerful drugs to to get him to sleep?

I think the normal responsibilities in my life keep me grounded. Having to keep a job, maintain a relationship, and deal with others is good for my character.

Could I be Christian?

As I sat alone in an empty church, as I occasionally do, I thought that maybe I could adapt to Christianity. I've been drawn recently to the Jeffersonian Jesus that John Shelby Spong introduced me to (see earlier entry). This is a Jesus with no supernatural elements, but no less profoundly inspiring. I am inspired almost every day by the idea of a human who taught us to rise above our biological and tribal instincts to be more human. There is power in that, even if we never know what Jesus really said, and that it is only fairly likely that he even existed.

Perhaps this alone makes me Christian. But can I be a Christian who does not believe in god? I don't know. I could says I believe in a pantheistic god--the totality of the universe is divine, but not a distinct entity. But does that even mean anything? It certainly rejects the Christian god. And it is more of a judgment about the universe.

But I do have this certain spiritual sense of the divinity of all existence that stems from basic arguments about whether god exists. The believer asks, "If there is no god, then who created the universe." The atheist rejects this, because he'll ask who created god, and the theist's answer is that god always existed. But I wonder two things: 1) If something could have always existed, why can't that be the universe itself in some form? And 2) If the universe needs to be explained with the existence of a divine entity, perhaps it is the universe itself that is divine. The question of whether the universe could have always existed is above my pay grade, so to speak, but it still leaves open the idea the universe itself being divine. However, I can feel reverence for the very idea of the universe, but not consider it divine. That may be where I never really feel plugged into religion.

All this is philosophical thinking. Practical issues are more clear to me. The bible seems like a rough draft that people misguidedly take seriously. And some religious institutions are disgusting.

So, yeah, don't feel like I have a religious home in Christianity. I read someone thinking about this and asking, "Will I ever be whole?"

What the fuck is going on?

I've always understood that much of the voting public are loopy space cadets who don't know what is going on and vote with their gut. The public is constantly polled on their candidate preference and opinions on matters of public debate. But when they are asked factual questions, an astounding proportion lack basic civic knowledge. Thirty percent or more cannot name the Vice President! Holy shit!

Stupidity is found all over the political spectrum. Religious conservatives, of course, are skeptical of global warming, evolution, and the history of the universe as it conflicts with biblical history. Secular liberals have their own religion of sorts that distrusts anything they can classify as unnatural, such as genetically modified foods, nuclear power, and even vaccines.These goons vote stupidly.

A big segment of the population has been especially vulnerable since the postwar industrial bubble burst and good-paying, low-skill jobs disappeared. Does their stupidity plus insecurity plus sense of entitlement fuel Trump's popularity? I don't know. It seems like a good guess. Was there something that could have been done to keep these people happy? I don't know how society can make low-skill, good-paying jobs abundant again. And I don't know that thinking about it that way is useful. I need to think about this some more.

The Art of Coasting

A friend got me thinking this week when she told me I can cruise from now on in my life. I have career, a home, a community, and a partner, and now it will be easy.  But I didn't like the sound of this.

I've been regularly exercising for years now. It has become such a habit that if I stop for one reason or another, I feel compelled to start again. If good habits like that direct me to thrive in every area of my life--health, work, maintaining relationships, being connected to my community--then I see how I could coast.

But I worked very hard to get where I am. And on the way there were several uphill climbs, major gambles, and fights for what I wanted. Did I put myself through that so that I could plateau? To some extent, the answer is yes. I wanted to achieve some security and comfort and now I have it.

I also know that my struggle to get to this station in life served me well. It helped me become focused, driven, and organized. Suffering through setbacks made me empathize with the struggles of my fellow man. But I don't know if it is good for my soul for every moment of my life to be a struggle. Nor to I think life should be without struggle.

So I will be thinking about this. Life could throw a struggle at me. But if not, I'll think about my next act.