These guys who played the music are about Novaseeker’s age, give or take a couple years. I was a young teenager at the time, and they were my heroes. That generation of post-boomer men – born in the late 60s – must have felt and expressed the most angst of any generation since that of Hemingway and Fitzgerald. They may not have been all that intellectually articulate as youths, but they sure gave us a dose of their raw emotion. We Seattle children swam in it like fish, buying Sub-Pop LPs on vinyl and picking our favorite bands and musicians. I liked Soundgarden — Chris Cornell was my working-class hero. When we wanted to feel the dirty, rough chords we went with Mudhoney. Nirvana was a bit of a joke at first, being from the redneck logging town of Aberdeen, but they earned their respect in due course and Cobain came to define the cultural phenomenon. This was fitting, perhaps.

Today, I brushed up against a remnant of this in my kids’ preschool parent/teacher meeting. One of the central figures in the culture ended up sitting right next to me. I actually had no idea who he was when I first saw him — I thought he was your typical 40-something Seattle herb. He was dressed and coiffed like a contractor, but didn’t have the requisite physique. He was a somewhat small man with faded jeans, longish hair, a t-shirt and Vans. I hardly gave him a second look. However, when it came time to introduce ourselves, I definitely knew the name. It almost sounded like a joke at first, but there he was: a polite, mild-mannered dad at a parent meeting representing his little girl, who is my daughter’s age. I’m not going to identify the guy, because I wouldn’t want that myself, and it would be pretty low of me to do so, but he’s one of about a dozen major figures in the Seattle music scene from the 80s/90s and everyone reading would recognize his band.

He seemed to be a pretty normal, decent guy with a whole lot of money, and without a trace of the angst that animated grunge music. I think it’s for the best to see a guy who was once part of a scene that glorified waste, death and dissipation to be fostering life, but it’s doubtless been a long road. In fact, it’s been a long road for too many of us, and there are those left behind that we should remember in the coming autumn days of death’s remembrance. What it says to me is that, despite the absence of catastrophic war, disaster or pestilence, we still have reaped a grim harvest over the last couple of decades. To see men in their 40s reborn is an encouraging sign, because in their 20s these guys were masters of futility and doom.

Sometimes I think it is up to us somewhat younger men to interpret what happened in those dark years, but we need the input from those who were at their forefront, even if they didn’t fully understand or articulate what was going on at the time. Essentially, we need to distill their experiences into something powerful and meaningful not only on a spiritual and emotional basis, but on the intellectual plane as well. I know that Justin will have some of his own ideas about the dark message of grunge from that era, but I have come up with a fairly radical hypothesis concerning the spiritual phenomenon that he ought to find pretty interesting, and I’d like to explore it in collaboration with others who are interested in the spiritual bases of these trends.

For now, it would be interesting to see what these artists’ contemporaries have to say about this point in history. Sitting next to this unassuming, youngish former rock star who had a little daughter brought some questions to the fore — especially concerning the survivors of the era he defined. That generation of men that raged against a system stacked against them remains a mystery, but it is a mystery that can be unlocked and understood to a degree with stories and reflection. Just as I looked up to these guys as heroes as an adolescent, I still look to the spirit of that generation, which was thrown on the guns of “progress” and cut down in droves. Young men and their sons have many questions, and we need your experience to answer them. It was a distinct time, and it can’t be understood without your voice.

“ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.”

Matthew 23:27

And so it is in Seattle.

This irreligious, soulless town pretends to progressive ideals, yet drives out all but the mediocre and acquisitive, who live their lives as though worms in a heap of compost, or perhaps sand fleas in a rotting kelp bed. It is a city of bejewelled barbarians, who sacrifice to their god of order and false tolerance, without any appreciation for the wine or bread of life that raises civilization from the ashes of oblivion.

Seattle is the Sweden of America, bereft of any art and predisposed to punish or forcefully rehabilitate those who think or live differently. Sterile love and sexless reproduction approximate the primeval slime-molds of thermal vents, and are considered the proper method of reproduction here. It is as though the city is an algal colony that heaves and belches its products from time to time upon an otherwise pleasant beach.

Heaven’s law is a foreign concept in this land, blessed though it is with the touch of creation. Its creatures crawl and mingle, sipping and chewing like so many worms, gathering in senseless clades that yield nothing but the lingering chemical traces of a hormonal slime-trail.

There is more culture in a square block of Hutongs in Beijing, or a row of Parisian cafés than in the entirety of this heap of processed manure. One might blame it on the dreary weather, but Dublin and London fare no better in that way, yet still have managed to outshine this contrived little hole, which is a laughing-stock by comparison. Even the Aleuts of the deprived, wind-beaten chain of Alaskan islands managed to create a more enduring and remarkable material culture than the denizens of this sad stack of moldy timber.

So here I send off this insult against this horrid city, which kills artists and despises those who stand out. There is more spice in an onion from Walla Walla than in all the kitchens of this joke of a city. May Seattle learn about suffering, which it so readily inflicts on those who do not fit in, and grow a soul.

Perhaps it is not politically wise to bring up this issue, but I have seen Glenn Sacks support lesbian partners in custody cases, comparing the frequently brutal custody battles between lesbians to those men face. Indeed, if for no other reason than that gay marriage may cause lesbians to reassess their support for coercive process and biased custody decisions in family law, it may be a good thing. Evidence gathered from countries where gay marriage is legal suggests that lesbian couples have a higher divorce rate than heterosexuals and gay men, and studies suggest that domestic violence is at least as prevalent in lesbian relationships as heterosexual, and probably more so.

So here in Seattle, where lesbian power and numbers are higher than perhaps any other large municipality in the United States, it will be interesting to see what effect the normalization of lesbian relationships and parenting will have on family law in general. I imagine that the family law system in King County Superior Court will have a fractious influence on the lesbian community in the area if it continues to favor the biological mother at all costs over any other parties to the raising of children. If this turns out to be the case, it would probably be wise for men to avoid smirking and saying “you reap what you sow,” no matter how tempting that may be.

As difficult as it may be to lay aside old grudges, Glenn Sacks has the right idea, and taking the high road should involve keeping some perspective and working for the most just solution for all, as well as supporting the rights of children to have those who committed to raising them in the first place be there to guide them to adulthood.

The pleasures of spring in Seattle are short, but they make up for brevity with intensity. After many long months of cold, wet darkness with only the somber shades of the evergreens and the sodden, but green grass to remind us of life, a few intervals of sunshine and clear evenings appear between the misty gray days and damp, starless nights.

Last night I took a walk through the neighborhood, and although it was a bit chilly I could still make out the scents of the blooming flowers and fresh grass. It reminded me of the days of my adolescence, when I moved through this environment like a fish through water, taking for granted the beauty of nature, of which I was a part. In those days it was as though I lived in a state of symbiosis with the ebb and flow of life that washed over the silent rocks and still streets like a tide.

Each shift in the breeze brought a new scent — some were sweet, some full and others flat and sharp like the surface of the lake. The memories and emotions they brought back were tinged with regret, but also with elements of comfort. If, even now, in the sorrow of these middle years of life, I find myself at times swimming through the elements that sustain us all, then maybe when I am old I can continue to enjoy a conscious appreciation of their existence. Perhaps by then I will be little more than one of those silent rocks on the shore, washed by the waves and dried by the wind, but still all will be moving and growing around me, and that will be enough.

Because it promotes economic interdependence between far-flung corners of the world, globalization is the enemy of local sustainability. Trade agreements penalize local self-sufficiency and promote widely distributed supply and consumption networks, necessarily giving an advantage to larger operations with highly developed corporate infrastructure. Even fairly large local factories and businesses are at a serious disadvantage if they have only a regional distribution capacity, which is why, here in Seattle, we have seen a number of local institutions, such as Frederick and Nelson’s and the Rainier Brewery, go out of business in recent years. This also explains why newer companies with explicitly international ambitions – including Amazon, Starbucks and Microsoft – have soared. Economically speaking, this hasn’t been a disaster for our region (yet), but it’s been a serious blow to the local soul and sense of identity. The economic advantage provided by having international corporations located in the Seattle area is by no means something we can count on permanently — the flight of the Boeing corporation to Chicago has been followed by a slow, but steady increase in the outsourcing of Boeing factory jobs. And consider that the Rainier Brewery was local by definition, but Tully’s is not, so which one can easily pack up and leave without hurting the bottom line?

Although globalism is widely thought to promote variety the end result is often a depressing uniformity amongst major cities. Opposition to globalism is not a reaction against Capitalism or economic progress; there is a similar uniformity of design in Communist structures throughout the former Soviet Union and China, and dull, indistinguishable Marxist architecture, despite its lack of color and signage, results in roughly the same déja vue effect as the facsimile strip malls that litter the highways of America. It is not the commerce that is abhorrent, but rather the subjugation of regional identity and culture to international brands.

For all the concern about biodiversity and ethnic diversity, there appears to be little support for cultural diversity. Just as the existence of numerous species and a wide range of life in a given ecosystem is used to gauge the health of an ecosystem, a diverse collection of communities and regional cultures and subcultures reflects the health of a greater society. Seattle’s unique music scene of the 1980s and early 90s developed in a somewhat isolated provincial culture, but soon after it went global it vanished, leaving the city’s music scene devoid of the vitality in which the “Seattle Sound” thrived. The agricultural community in the Kent Valley south of Seattle was tragically sold off to developers and converted from highly productive farmland to office parks surrounded by acres of asphalt, effectively erasing an established rural culture on the outskirts of Seattle.

To natives these losses are tangible, but one might make the argument that the mobility of both people and information renders these kinds of outcomes inevitable. Could it be that distinct communities and regional cultures are passé — relics of a pre-cosmopolitan culture that cannot be reasonably sustained? If one considers the interest people continue to have in their local communities, probably not. The democratization of mass communication appears to have played a large part in sparking renewed interest in regional culture, cuisine and environmental issues. Monopolies are inherently elitist, and perhaps the most oppressive of all are cultural monopolies. Rather than reinforcing the trend toward a dull uniformity, mass communication is spawning more effective means to reach out to one’s neighbors about topics of interest, and as it turns out, many people are highly interested in their immediate surroundings.

Global trade and cross-fertilization of cultures – an ancient and vital part of the human experience – will never disappear, but the sprouting of many small regional movements will eventually put enough pressure on those who benefit from globalism the most to alter its practice so that its benefits are more widely distributed and the harm it does to local communities is alleviated. People are happiest when living their lives in harmony with their surroundings, so the movement toward a regionally based way of life is a constant force that can only be resisted with sustained, costly effort. Eventually, even these efforts will be exhausted, and distinct cultures will flower once again.

One of the alleged paradoxes of the Seattle social scene is that Seattlites are said to be “polite,” despite being notoriously flaky and difficult to befriend. This is actually a contradiction in terms: there is nothing polite about blowing people off or withholding hospitality. In fact, this behavior is downright rude and cruel. Is it polite to smile in someone’s face as you shove them out the door? No, that just adds insult to injury, but sadly it is all too common in Seattle. Why do people behave this way in Seattle? I offer a few possible explanations:

• Seattlites are conformists: Seattlites have a strong need to feel accepted by their peers and surrounding society. Newcomers can upset their sense of belonging in their (usually tiny) social groups by introducing new, possibly scary, opinions, ideas or even styles of dress or tastes in music.
• Seattlites crave group stability: Without having a place in a social group, as insignificant and meaningless as that place may be, Seattlites feel lost — like a wildebeast who looks up from the watering hole, notices his herd has vanished, and suddenly sees tawny, hungry eyes peering out from the tall grass. Anyone outside the social group is seen as a potential lion who could scatter the herd and devour the solitary, hapless Seattlite.
• Status is extremely important to Seattlites: Over years, Seattlites carefully cultivate credentials and status symbols, jealously guarding them as though they were stores of food in the depths of winter. Just as the cute, inoffensive chipmunk will become a snarling, vicious beast when his nuts are threatened with removal, the Seattlite will unload his arsenal of backstabbing, malicious gossip and rumormongering upon anyone who threatens the integrity of such credentials, if only because that person has no idea what they are or how important they are to the Seattlite. To avoid such socially unpleasant scenes, the Seattlite will discourage the outsider from approaching the location of this treasure-trove of “cred” by snubbing or otherwise purposefully excluding the outsider from the social clique in which it is stored.

There are a couple of approaches to dealing with the Seattle Freeze. The first, and most commonly followed, is to simply give in and join the herd. The benefit to this is that one will eventually find a social group to call one’s own and no longer worry about anything besides losing one’s place. The drawbacks are that it takes a long time, one’s social options are inherently restricted by conformity, and one may eventually tire of one’s place and have to start all over, which is a serious pain.

Another method for dealing with it – one that is ultimately more glorious – is to become the lion that scatters the herd. If one can get beyond the fear of social rejection, and it isn’t too hard once you realize how small and insignificant Seattle’s social groups (not to mention Seattle itself) really are, this provides much more freedom of choice and self-expression. Getting into the group in the first place may be tricky, but like cracking a walnut, it is possible when leverage is correctly applied. I have recently found that turning the tables on the passive-aggressor can work quite well. Call them on their flakiness and rudeness. If they snub you, say what you think of that kind of behavior in front of their (preferably opposite-sex) friends. Learn to identify the source of most resistance and outflank him or her. Also, keep in mind that nobody is totally satisfied with their place in life, so just a hint of something better and more exciting will intrigue all but the most fearful and timid groupie, who probably isn’t exactly the type you want around anyway.

There are undoubtedly a great many techniques that would help break through the freeze in Seattle, and any effort to do so should be considered an act of civic responsibility. Not only would warming up Seattle’s social scene help to raise the city out of its cultural mediocrity, it would give some relief to the thousands of frustrated and isolated people out there who simply don’t want to give in to Seattle’s awkward social rules.