Once a great place, now a prison

It's wanting either a dose of cold-charged reality or indulging in a streak of masochism that has me listening to Sufjan Steven's Michigan album. It includes tales of lonely desperation; of lives propelling against forces conspiring to thwart all attempts to craft a wholesome enriching life. It's not something I should listen to in my current state of joblessness. But I do and my listening of it has changed as I've navigated different phases of this transition. When I first heard "since the first of June I lost my job and lost my room" it was a jarring reminder of a condition that I barely wanted to mention to neighbors or professional colleagues. Now it feels more like a statement of the weather: nothing to deny and everything to accept.

There is a savage frontier aspect to the album's narrative. It's populated by characters in trailer parks living far from the Interstate who in their economic straits may be close to joining the state militia. I don't know about you, but that's my idea of the ultimate gothic horror film- something frightening and real. Michael Moore picked up a thread of this when he explored the roots of the Oklahoma City bombing. When the hate is real, there doesn't seem to be a way to escape it. I don't need a Bates Hotel scenario. For that reason, I'm seriously spooked by the Brandon Teena story in "Boys Don't Cry."

I don't know how the pain of economic dislocation leads to violent hate, but I believe that most of our social ills stem from economic sources. People feel desperate and lash out at accessible and vulnerable targets, and later try to justify their actions through convenient and distracting rationales.

Happy MLK Day.