Today I Learned

Tuesday night I learned the people living under the repressive, polygamous religion headed by the now imprisoned Warren Jeffs (I forget the name of it) really do seem brainwashed. In a fascinating special on 48 Hours I saw a number of them interviewed and there was an eerie bland blankness in most of their affects, and the things they said.

Is it brainwashed, or understimulated? The religion doesn't allow them to watch television and I sensed books were not a big part of their lives. The families live in giant groups, some with over 30 children, so the need to take care of basic domestic business trumps everything. The families seem harmonious, with everyone pitching in, and the multiple mothers might actually calm the children, who have more consistent access to one of them than kids in regular families.

But beyond child rearing, it seems the people in this religion are slotted into a life of such conformity that their minds never wake up to consider alternatives. Or, they might be so inbred that their I.Q.s have fallen. Only the people who had escaped the religion spoke with anything like normal animation and emotion. Very few of them showed the sadness you'd think was inevitable after leaving their entire families behind, never to see them again, just for the chance to live in freedom and think for themselves.

Warren Jeffs is a creepy character. His sickening sexual greed (he has something like 80 wives, yet fools around on them) is belied by his sallow, boyish face. I've never been so glad to hear someone is in jail.

Here's a gross fact: When the family Warren Jeffs was reared in was dissolved by some decree of the church elders, Jeffs married the women who had raised him -- he married his mothers. This fact was disclosed with a disgusted chuckle by one of the lawyers trying to help kids caught in the Jeffs snare.

I've always been fascinated by cults and trying to discern if there is a pleasure element present or not. I was convinced Elizabeth Smart had kind of a good time with her Latter Day Saint captor, Brian David Mitchell. She returned to her family glowing with health and what looked like high spirits. But the photographs of some of the young girls in this religion totally contradicted this idea. They looked dead-eyed, lost. They literally lack a life force, because there is no normal choice available to them. Sobering. Thank you, 48 Hours!

Today I Learned

People in Poland only have to pay $1.85 for their doctor visits, and they still think that's too much!

It's because it used to be totally free.

I'm thinking that if a shit-poor country like Poland can manage such comprehensive healthcare, what the freak is wrong with us?

I also remember that kind of outrage: 'How dare you charge me? The state takes care of that!' That's how I felt in Canada, where it was also true. But the government only paid if you could demonstrate financial need -- maybe it's that way in Poland too. It was so easy to demonstrate financial need, though. All you had to say was "I'm a student -- well, I will be in a few months" and bang, the bill was taken care of.

It's not like here, where you have to engage for god knows how long with nefarious insurance companies who require you to jump through a million sly little hoops before you can get some totally erroneous charge removed from your bill.

Incidentally, I don't know if Poland is really a shit-poor country. Maybe tomorrow I'll learn that it's actually quite wealthy.

Today I Learned

Actually, last night I learned that there's an area in the brain called Zone 25 that is active in people with depression. If a skilled surgeon can get in there and turn down your Zone 25, you stop feeling incessantly sad and worthless.

This was in a harrowing documentary on depression on PBS. Harrowing because it reminded me how powerful depression is and how it wrecks lives and overwhelms the sufferer with darkness, also terrifying the people around him/her.

As you can see, I am still a laugh riot, with my comedy writing and my mood swings.

My report on that is: I have pretty much finished my play, which is a parody of Sex and the City, but better than that sounds. I honestly think my play engages the culture significantly, plus it's funny. We had a reading last week and the actors were very enthusiastic which made me feel great!

Now is the hard part: I can't find a theater that's available when I need it, and most of the actors/directors involved in my play are involved in some others in June and the whole thing is a logistical nightmare. I don't deal well with this kind of real-world challenge -- I veer between panicky, frantic action and crawling under the covers.

Still, with the writing done there's a whole layer of difficulty that's removed and that feels good.

Today I Learned

Today I learned that a friend of mine can sing really well. I've been feeling antisocial lately and I didn't want to go to this show, but after an afternoon walking around in the rain looking for another friend's open gallery show, and not finding it, I wanted to see someone I knew. I thought, how hard can it be to sit in an East Village bar and listen to some music? When I got there I found it wasn't a bar, but the basement of a Jewish temple. There were candles on the tables and wine and beer for sale, but it's not the same -- the atmosphere was muted and dreadfully intimate, from my perspective. I sat there feeling like running away. But I want people to come to my play soon, and I knew I had to put in time supporting friends for that to happen.

Singing is so strange -- it's so psychologically revealing. You can enjoy a voice if the singer is relaxed with it, and is involved in the song. Even a good voice can be irritating if the singer is pushing it so hard they're going over the top every chance they get. When I came in, a woman was singing in a balls-out way that I found paralyzing and ego-driven. Her vitality was so intense it was pulverizing. It made me cringe and curl up inside.

I kept thinking about my own singing and how constricted it is. But I remembered my friends always say they like it. Still, I found it hard to remember a time when I could stand up and want to sing to people.

I just wanted to listen to my friend and leave. But it seemed to take forever to get to her. I felt the whole undertaking was doomed. My friend's teacher (it was a showcase for her singing class) was undermining her by putting so many people before her. I kept planning my escape and rehearsing my speech: I had to get home, I just had to leave.

But no, I kept telling myself - be a good sport. You have to stay. Be calm. Chill.

Finally my friend got up and took the stage. She had kept herself together during the long wait, and she stood there and delivered her first song with a nice modesty and some funny acting. She had a good voice and she used it well. Her next song was hard and there was some trouble with the guitarist and what key he was using. But she got through it and her last song was wonderful - Angel From Montgomery - it's a great song and she did it really well.

I knew she'd never sung in public and I was amazed how well she did. It was easy to enjoy it. It was easy to feel glad I was there.

Saturday I Learned

a bunch of things about Scandinavian writers and citizens. Did you know Norway has its own Ten Commandments? A list of rules like "you must not think you are above we," if you can believe the translation provided by the Believer at a PEN event I went to Saturday night.

The Scandinavian writers were droll and good looking. They alluded to tensions between Scandinavian countries that were mystifying to those who knew none of the history. The woman from Iceland said people in Iceland only commit murder when they're really drunk. She was thrillingly strange.

The writer pictured above is Christian Jungersen. He's written a book called The Exception, which was at first humorously described as being about a typing pool, petty jealousies in the office, and genocide, and later seriously described as being about that.

Another subject: I'm losing my Google presence. My most prominent listing is now my Facebook listing. Yuck. That's hardly a prestigious Google entry. For years an essay I wrote about Canada and the U.S. was first on my Google page and now it's second. This is unsettling, and so is the fact that I used to have the whole first page and now a gymnast with my name is edging up there.

I'm sure this serious matter will come to someone's attention soon.

Today I Learned

that Chekhov was a real babe.