(no subject)
Anime North was very good. Flew for the first time since I was a young child and enjoyed the claws-in-the-upholstery sensation of defying nature's most sacred commandments. Got to enjoy Toronto's maddeningly byzantine public transit system, walking through sketchy areas of town at one in the morning carrying thousands of dollars of luggage, all the while feeling as if I was going to be too ill to actually enjoy my vacation. But it all worked out in the end, of course. I got to meet up with some good people who I had known for a good chunk of my life but had never seen, wore a skirt in public for another two days, watched Do You Remember Love amongst friends and others who were mostly just there because they couldn't afford a hotel room, and, of course, saw The Halko Fuckin' Momoi.
Halko was wonderful. God, I feel like such a tremendous dweeb for being willing to fly four thousand kilometers to see an idol, yet I still feel a little bit better than some of the people I know who would go to such immense lengths to see friggin' Tool. It's all just perspective, I guess. I get to see a show that's different, a little bit weird, and enjoyed completely differently than any of the free-form filthy gutterpunk thrashing that I'm used to. It was less extravagant than live shows I've seen her do for her countrymen - no live band, no costume changes, no keytar - but even in reduced capacity, it was a beautiful thing to be able to actually see in person. The kind of pure energy emanating from her and recursing back to her from the audience's own excitement is something that I've never really experienced before. As divorced as an adorable woman bounding across the stage, singing bouncy dance pop and saccharine-sweet rock and roll, is from what it is that I've ever done (honestly, SURPRISINGLY NOT THAT MUCH), in its own ideosyncratic way, it reminds me of my own interpretation of Rock and Roll.
By "enjoyed differently", I am referring to the concept of "calls". I guess it has something to do with the individualist vs. collective social paradigms that you hear about whenever anyone brings up cultural differences between Japan and the west or whatever. Anyway, the concept is, apparently, that fans are supposed to have better choreography than the act themselves; Momoi herself mentioned that she's terrible at choreography and pretty much just goes with the flow. Anyway, Halko is a big fan of glowsticks. She writes songs about glowsticks, and calls them "dream batons". It's that kind of adorably bright and optimistic sophomorism that makes idols what they are, filling us suckers with the same kind of indomitable good will that, putting aside your cynicism and cleansing yourself in the healing denpa rays, gives you the feeling that this is the voice that could stop a war. Or, perhaps, matching the tone I'm going for here, a Zentradi battle fleet cold in its approach.
But yes - Glowsticks. Enjoying Momoi-Live with the Glow Stick is considerably more complicated than you would expect, and if you want to roll with the big boys - the big boys, meaning the people who pay sixty bucks a year to be part of her fanclub and fly halfway across the globe to see her in a comparatively puny Canadian venue in this minimalistic format - you have to learn how to wave your glowstick properly, to chant her name, assorted sound effects, and occasionally long passages praising Halko's cuteness and skill at cosplay - It's a bit like a cult, isn't it? Well, not wanting to be tossed into the Momoist isolation chamber indefinitely and missing my flight out on monday, I followed as best I could, putting forth that same effort that afforded me B-'s and C+'s back in high school despite spending my precious last minute study time playing Super Dodge Ball. And while Dear Leader Momoi did not praise those of us without the singular devotion of those up front as strongly, we made the utmost effort. Except the dude beside me, I was probably bothering him with my flailing around, but he was not nearly into it enough anyway, so screw him and I hope he enjoys his week without food or water or sleep in the concrete Momoi-box.
I wouldn't really think of myself as the type to travel that sort of distance for a woman, but Momoi is a treasure. Oh, and when I went to get an autograph, she told me that my sailor fuku was cute. SHE TOLD ME THAT MY SAILOR FUKU WAS CUTE.
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Aside from that, I have to say that in my limited experience with these anime conventions, I just don't feel the kind of cynicism and antipathy toward the proceedings as others do, and other nerds in particular. Certainly, a lot is said about concepts like "pride" and "restraint" and "shame", but I don't think I really see it that way - it's a gay pride parade for the socially inept, and I can't really understand why filling city blocks with people in colourful and silly costumes is a negative thing - I find it beautiful, in a way. There just isn't enough opportunity in the modern condition for the average person to just let loose and be outwardly weird, and especially for the kind of alienated, socially maladjusted people who come to these things in particular.
So while I think there's certainly a time and place for shame and self-respect, but I'm not so self-conscious or pretentious that I can find no joy here but in the hollow accumulation of schadenfreude. Here I am four thousand kilometers from home, I'm going to wear that skirt, and I'm going to enjoy having people take my picture. I'm not going to leer or come on to the omnipresent jailbait, I'm going to contribute to the prevailing weirdness and colour of this event, and I'm going to have a good time. If not mature and reasonable, then it is at least well-considered and without regret.
It brings out the worst impulses in nerdkind for sure - there's a lot of ickiness involved, of course, as happens when you get a lot of socially uninitiated people together with a poor concept of personal boundaries. Guys with poor brain-to-action filters being creepy to girls, girls with the same being obnoxious to boys. There's the rampant and unexamined consumerism; people just buying the most unbelievably useless shit to scratch some kind corporate guilt complex. And there is the feeling that we're all careening into the abyss with nothing to show for it but the fact that we really liked ourselves some cartoons. On the whole, though, it's perspective. You get used to seeing these people as some kind of collective nerd hivemind, saying stupid, shitty, and superfluous things constantly, and lose the ability to parse these things as coming from an actual person. It's refreshing to see the Internet bubble over out onto the surface and recognize it as a mass of human beings, that most of these people are basically normal, and that all the terrible shit you see online is merely the product of people having an arena to vent their worst impulses.
All in all, MISSION SUCCESSFUL.
Halko was wonderful. God, I feel like such a tremendous dweeb for being willing to fly four thousand kilometers to see an idol, yet I still feel a little bit better than some of the people I know who would go to such immense lengths to see friggin' Tool. It's all just perspective, I guess. I get to see a show that's different, a little bit weird, and enjoyed completely differently than any of the free-form filthy gutterpunk thrashing that I'm used to. It was less extravagant than live shows I've seen her do for her countrymen - no live band, no costume changes, no keytar - but even in reduced capacity, it was a beautiful thing to be able to actually see in person. The kind of pure energy emanating from her and recursing back to her from the audience's own excitement is something that I've never really experienced before. As divorced as an adorable woman bounding across the stage, singing bouncy dance pop and saccharine-sweet rock and roll, is from what it is that I've ever done (honestly, SURPRISINGLY NOT THAT MUCH), in its own ideosyncratic way, it reminds me of my own interpretation of Rock and Roll.
By "enjoyed differently", I am referring to the concept of "calls". I guess it has something to do with the individualist vs. collective social paradigms that you hear about whenever anyone brings up cultural differences between Japan and the west or whatever. Anyway, the concept is, apparently, that fans are supposed to have better choreography than the act themselves; Momoi herself mentioned that she's terrible at choreography and pretty much just goes with the flow. Anyway, Halko is a big fan of glowsticks. She writes songs about glowsticks, and calls them "dream batons". It's that kind of adorably bright and optimistic sophomorism that makes idols what they are, filling us suckers with the same kind of indomitable good will that, putting aside your cynicism and cleansing yourself in the healing denpa rays, gives you the feeling that this is the voice that could stop a war. Or, perhaps, matching the tone I'm going for here, a Zentradi battle fleet cold in its approach.
But yes - Glowsticks. Enjoying Momoi-Live with the Glow Stick is considerably more complicated than you would expect, and if you want to roll with the big boys - the big boys, meaning the people who pay sixty bucks a year to be part of her fanclub and fly halfway across the globe to see her in a comparatively puny Canadian venue in this minimalistic format - you have to learn how to wave your glowstick properly, to chant her name, assorted sound effects, and occasionally long passages praising Halko's cuteness and skill at cosplay - It's a bit like a cult, isn't it? Well, not wanting to be tossed into the Momoist isolation chamber indefinitely and missing my flight out on monday, I followed as best I could, putting forth that same effort that afforded me B-'s and C+'s back in high school despite spending my precious last minute study time playing Super Dodge Ball. And while Dear Leader Momoi did not praise those of us without the singular devotion of those up front as strongly, we made the utmost effort. Except the dude beside me, I was probably bothering him with my flailing around, but he was not nearly into it enough anyway, so screw him and I hope he enjoys his week without food or water or sleep in the concrete Momoi-box.
I wouldn't really think of myself as the type to travel that sort of distance for a woman, but Momoi is a treasure. Oh, and when I went to get an autograph, she told me that my sailor fuku was cute. SHE TOLD ME THAT MY SAILOR FUKU WAS CUTE.
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Aside from that, I have to say that in my limited experience with these anime conventions, I just don't feel the kind of cynicism and antipathy toward the proceedings as others do, and other nerds in particular. Certainly, a lot is said about concepts like "pride" and "restraint" and "shame", but I don't think I really see it that way - it's a gay pride parade for the socially inept, and I can't really understand why filling city blocks with people in colourful and silly costumes is a negative thing - I find it beautiful, in a way. There just isn't enough opportunity in the modern condition for the average person to just let loose and be outwardly weird, and especially for the kind of alienated, socially maladjusted people who come to these things in particular.
So while I think there's certainly a time and place for shame and self-respect, but I'm not so self-conscious or pretentious that I can find no joy here but in the hollow accumulation of schadenfreude. Here I am four thousand kilometers from home, I'm going to wear that skirt, and I'm going to enjoy having people take my picture. I'm not going to leer or come on to the omnipresent jailbait, I'm going to contribute to the prevailing weirdness and colour of this event, and I'm going to have a good time. If not mature and reasonable, then it is at least well-considered and without regret.
It brings out the worst impulses in nerdkind for sure - there's a lot of ickiness involved, of course, as happens when you get a lot of socially uninitiated people together with a poor concept of personal boundaries. Guys with poor brain-to-action filters being creepy to girls, girls with the same being obnoxious to boys. There's the rampant and unexamined consumerism; people just buying the most unbelievably useless shit to scratch some kind corporate guilt complex. And there is the feeling that we're all careening into the abyss with nothing to show for it but the fact that we really liked ourselves some cartoons. On the whole, though, it's perspective. You get used to seeing these people as some kind of collective nerd hivemind, saying stupid, shitty, and superfluous things constantly, and lose the ability to parse these things as coming from an actual person. It's refreshing to see the Internet bubble over out onto the surface and recognize it as a mass of human beings, that most of these people are basically normal, and that all the terrible shit you see online is merely the product of people having an arena to vent their worst impulses.
All in all, MISSION SUCCESSFUL.