For those who say they don't like Deadwood, that wonderful foulmouthed show on HBO about the Old West, because they don't believe that in those days they used such profanity to that extent, I have to say.. you have not really tried to watch this show.

Yes, it's true, maybe the first or second time, you might get a bit distracted, because the language is startling. Maybe it's not how you talk every night when seated at the table. And arguments aside on whether or not those people actually did speak with such magnificent utterances (I'll argue that in moment), the point is not the language, in it's singular word, but the language in how it is formed together. "the baroque syntax, the casual juxtaposition of 'shocking' profanity and a kind of Victorian eloquence, the emotional heft of even the most compact exchanges, all sum to arguably the most distinctive dialogue style in TV history, an art of speech uniquely American and weirdly untheatrical." A Bazaar Shakespearian play. The dialogue between Swearengen and Bullock, or Swearengen and anyone for that matter, is written so smart. It hurts to watch. Not for the profanity, but because you really have to pay attention to everything that's said. You have to think. That's not something you have to do when you watch American Idol.

I can actually visualize in Shakespearian time, where there is mud and stench in the streets, and fowl all about, some crooked bent man with a boil on his face, uttering shit fucking dirt bag. Why not? It totally seems appropriate. So why not the west? A place that has no rules, no formalities. lawless. we don't have a lot of proof of the language, because we don't have recorded live conversations. People who might use the sharp tongue on the street, or between themselves playing cards, would not sit down and write those words out. I don't write use profanity, I use it in my daily life.. monitored, but I use it. And I highly doubt the actual literary crowd, the ones that wrote as a profession, would use the same kind of language as the bar keep, or saloon owner. It has been well documented that Calamity Jane was one of the most foul-mouthed people in the West. And yet the show gives us the distinction between these people of colorful language, and the upper-class. Alma Garret for example, she does not use profanity. She is the most upper_class character on the show.

It's really not the point whether or not the profanity was used to this extent. It's used in Deadwood to show class structure, and to define or create a new language. If the baroque syntax and Victorian eloquence, did not have the shocking profanity that you hear in Deadwood, you would not have the same feeling of disgust, of shock, of lawlessness that comes off. And it wouldn't be as fun!

It's interesting, because the first season, I was so aware of the profanity, but now, I'm only aware of how amazing the use of the language is. The sentence structure, and the hidden genius beneath certain characters. They are so complex. Trying to figure out what they are going to do next, is a part of the enticement to wait each week for the next episode.

I can't write a blog! That's why this is not a blog. That's why no matter how tempted I am, to write one, to join this hip new cultural medium of communication, I realize, I have to gracefully step back, and return to my humble Rant and Roll.

Why? Because, well, not only do I have a full-time job, I have 2 kids, a dog, a husband, many and too many interests and projects going on at the same time. I have no time. I don't have time to do the things I want to do. for example, to actually finish any of those projects. To keep up with the friends I have, to be that cool mom who is on top of it, who knows what the calendar is at her kids school, who has patience with her kids, and nor do I have time to sit down, and spend 1/2 hour a day writing a blog, on my various thoughts.

Besides my thoughts are too scattered. Who really wants to try to make sense of them? Take this last paragraph for example. What's my point? I love writing, and I want to continue to write.. but sometimes I have to ask, what is my point!? I mean of that particular rant. Or what is my message.

Somebody told me I should have one, a message, a direction. Well not just one person. But sometimes, I just like to go on and on. It's kind of like life. Well, my life. Where is the point? There is none. Anyhow, which is a word I like to say, that extra 1/2 hour I could be writing the blog, is devoted to practicing the guitar. Or when I have time for that. But sometimes I don't.

For quite some time, I couldn't practice in front of my kids. Because they yelled and cried for me to stop. I don't know why.. I didn't sound so bad. So that means between 5:00pm and 8:00pm there is no practice. And before 5:00pm, I'm dutifully doing my job... a hem. And after 8:00pm, well thats when, if I haven't already started with one, I have a glass of wine, relax, sit down, see what's on the television.

Anyhow, my life at that point becomes all about escape. Getting lost in someone else's life.

Where was I? Oh yes, Time. Time for guitar practice. At last they don't cry any more, but then they want to play it with me.. which becomes distracting. Then they started dancing. Last night I got criticism. "Mommy, quit stopping all the time". "Kid, I'm trying to change fingerings".

Hmm. So lets not forget in addition to the above, I have to fit in, writing, thinking of painting again, going to the gym (haven't in 3 weeks), making doctor appointments, going to doctor appointments, having lunch with friends.. oh yeah, getting a few necessary groceries or drug store items.

Who the hell has time? what happened to my time? When I was a kid, time was all I had. Too much of it. Oh if only I knew.. or believed my parents then.. Oh yeah, and if only we had computers and the internet! I would have written a blog. It might not have been so deep and full of information that I know posses. But maybe, before pot, before child birth and the onset of age, I would have at least had a better memory and focus... maybe even a message.. one with which innocence of youth brings and of course... the time.

SheDrinksLattes Presents: My Brooklyn Rant and Roll
Posted December 15, 2005
Stinky Cheese

SheDrinksLattes Presents: My Brooklyn Rant and Roll
Posted July 13, 2005
Jesus is King, and He Lives in a Box on Wyckoff Street

No, really it's true. My son told me himself. Sure I knew he lived in a box, I passed him regularly. But I never knew what the story was behind that, and excepted it as just one of those endearing Brooklyn quirks. But one day I was walking with my son, and as we passed his shrine, my son looked at him, then at me and said, "He's the king".
     Up to that point, I wasn't sure how to address this subject. I'm not just referring to the fact that Jesus is in a box on our block. But how I should introduce him, as we don't go to church, and it's just not a part of our routine. For most people, residents of Cobble Hill, and especially those of Wyckoff street, they are very familiar with Jesus and his residence here. I pass my neighbors daily, and after we pass him, in his box, we hardly blink an eye. We are used to his presence. Quite often I see the more devote, little old ladies, stopping to place a flower next to the box, and crossing themselves before they move on. For my family, who visits from Virginia, it's quite an eccentric thing.. a typical Brooklyn thing. All these quirks amuse them.
     I wasn't especially raised with religion, we went to church on the holidays, but that's about it. Later when I was a teenager, I pursued it, with help from my mom, and eventually found a place I fit in, at a Presbyterian church. There I joined choir and subsequently went to church on Sundays. But I eventually found myself in doubt, and confused, and thus stopped going. Through the years I pursued other spiritual means, including Buddhism. These days I'm not a religious person, and I don't go to church.
     I donšt know really how to address the issue with my sons. Sometimes I think I should take them, but then if I don't believe in the act of going to church, that would make me a hypocrite. I am a spiritual being, I have my beliefs, but these are things I arrived at on my own. And I kind of think my sons should have that same option. So when I stumbled upon Jesus, right here on my block, I wasn't sure how much detail I should get into. Who he is, what he did, what people believe, he died for our sinsŠ the whole history. Isn't this too complex for a child to understand? All these things seemed too mature for them. I myself didn't have any reference on how to approach this. I mean, the explanation, or power that a parent gives you. Mine let me make my own way through this. So, do I do the same? Or do I guide them more directly?
     But my son solved this very problem, at least for now. He simply stated, pointing at Jesus in his box, "He's the king". I just looked at him, and said. Yes, that's true.

Copyright Suzanne Warfield 1996-2005
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