Musings Based on Richard Rodriguez's Brown (and on Apple)
[I first got to know Richard Rodriguez's writng through his latest book, Darling, a spiritual autobiography. I fell in love with the way he writes-he sculpts words. Brown is another book of his. I was captivated by this passage when I read it this morning during my commute:]
Eve's apple, or what was left of it, quickly turned brown.
Christ, a white doorway… was Bukowski's recollection of having taken a bite on the apple. When Eve looked again, she saw a brown crust had formed over the part where she had eaten and invited Adam's lip. It was then she threw the thing away from her. Thenceforward (the first Thenceforward), brown informed everything she touched.
Don't touch! Touch will brown the rose and the Acropolis, will spoil the butterfly's wing. (Creation mocks us with incipient brown.) The call of nature is brown, even in five-star hotels. The mud we make reminds us that we are:
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return into the ground; for out of it wast thou taken…
Toil is brown. Brueghel's peasants are brown, I remember noting in a Vienna museum.
-- Brown (pp. 40-41), Richard Rodriguez
Richard Rodriguez wrote this book as a Brown to speak about the Brown, but not as any representative sweeping across the category-he is Richard Rodriguez (Brown, Mexican, gay, Roman Catholic, writer), writing through the eyes of Richard Rodriguez, describing how he sees the world.
Brown.
It is because Alexis de Tocqueville once observed an Indian, an African, and a white baby and utterly missed the point. Rodriguez screams at the oblivious fool: These women are but parables of your interest in yourself. Rather than consider the nature of their intimacy, you are preoccupied alone with the meaning of your intrusion (p. 3).
Yes, if you write as a Mexican, your work will end up on an "ethnic" shelf of some sort.
But if you are good (and you are bloody good, Richard Rodriguez), your work will be found. No matter where on the shelf it is forced to conform. I found your first (last) book. Now, I can't put you down.
-
I am reminded of an eternally glowing apple, bitten into and yet remaining pure, White. This apple infects. It spreads the Gospel of (or corrupting the world with, whichever way you see it) the self: I gotta have it. I need it now. I must be cool.
Me. Mine. The I.
Or rather, the "i."
iPod. iPhone. iPad. iWatch (or whatever official name this new gadget is given). Faithful worshippers flood to the meccas of the Unspoiled Apple's shrines, throughout the world and by the millions. Come unto me, all ye who hunger and thirst, and buy from me, for I have gadgets on sale.
The Apple seems to offer choices: white or black? Gold or silver? How about an array of rainbow-colored music players? But the color never bleeds into the branding on the back.
This apple with the bite mark never turns brown.
-
Apple, or rather AAPL, the indomitable name that at one point commanded $700 a share, that grew and grew until the stock split, then proceeded to grow and grow some more… this Apple was my benefactor once.
When I closed on my co-op, 80% of the house belonged to the bank. Ten percent was courtesy of parental contribution (read: not mine, not really, except now it is). The remaining ten percent was (aside from a small percentage of my own savings, actual dollars in a bank account) jointly sponsored by AAPL, GOOG, MCD, and SBUX. The latter two were former employers and Google I use everyday. But AAPL? I wasn't a follower of the Almighty Apple then. Didn't even own an Apple device. But Apple is gracious and is not a respecter of persons. If you pay in-through products or stock market, it doesn't matter, all ways lead to The Apple-it will bless you, at least until it doesn't anymore and you need another fix, another high. (Buy more Apple products!)
As I glance around the mostly bare walls of my apartment, seeing its pale whiteness, I can't help but wonder if this place, too, has become brown-proof. But maybe it's not just the indoors that has become infected. The grittiness of the neighborhood outside? Ha! Can't you see the people congregating around the community garden, inhabitants of public housing complexes, black white yellow and brown but all wearing the mark of The Apple with their i-whatevers in hand? (Not all, not all. For there are still those who remain in the natural order of things, whether by choice or due to a lack of resources, whose apples are still food and still turn brown after a bite.)
-
I have since become an unwitting follower of The Apple-when I left my last job I was gifted with an iPad. Like Eve's apple, the moment I laid eyes on it, the spell was complete. When I put my hand to it (pick the fruit from the tree) and turned it on (taste it, take a bite), I was gone (fall, choose the "I" over your Creator. You know you want it).
"But it was a gift!" I protest.
YOU planted the tree in the garden.
"I still have a 'dumb phone'!"
I was perfectly fine with the other fruits until the serpent suggested this one.
"Everybody has an [insert Apple product here]!"
Look at Adam with fruit juice still running down his chin. He ate it too!
God condemned Adam and Eve to exile, to toil and labor, to Brown.
Outside the gates of paradise, The Apple gleams white (or black, or some other cool monochrome color. Just not brown). Bite mark or not, this apple will never decay to brown-there simply isn't time for oxidation (stand aside and make room for the iPhone 6! Who cares if your iPhone 3 still works? You shouldn't still be using it).
Oh, and when you upgrade to the latest iDevice, remember to recycle your electronics accordingly. After all, The Apple used to be multicolored and that little leaf was green once.
But even then, there was no brown.
Eve's apple, or what was left of it, quickly turned brown.
Christ, a white doorway… was Bukowski's recollection of having taken a bite on the apple. When Eve looked again, she saw a brown crust had formed over the part where she had eaten and invited Adam's lip. It was then she threw the thing away from her. Thenceforward (the first Thenceforward), brown informed everything she touched.
Don't touch! Touch will brown the rose and the Acropolis, will spoil the butterfly's wing. (Creation mocks us with incipient brown.) The call of nature is brown, even in five-star hotels. The mud we make reminds us that we are:
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return into the ground; for out of it wast thou taken…
Toil is brown. Brueghel's peasants are brown, I remember noting in a Vienna museum.
-- Brown (pp. 40-41), Richard Rodriguez
Richard Rodriguez wrote this book as a Brown to speak about the Brown, but not as any representative sweeping across the category-he is Richard Rodriguez (Brown, Mexican, gay, Roman Catholic, writer), writing through the eyes of Richard Rodriguez, describing how he sees the world.
Brown.
It is because Alexis de Tocqueville once observed an Indian, an African, and a white baby and utterly missed the point. Rodriguez screams at the oblivious fool: These women are but parables of your interest in yourself. Rather than consider the nature of their intimacy, you are preoccupied alone with the meaning of your intrusion (p. 3).
Yes, if you write as a Mexican, your work will end up on an "ethnic" shelf of some sort.
But if you are good (and you are bloody good, Richard Rodriguez), your work will be found. No matter where on the shelf it is forced to conform. I found your first (last) book. Now, I can't put you down.
-
I am reminded of an eternally glowing apple, bitten into and yet remaining pure, White. This apple infects. It spreads the Gospel of (or corrupting the world with, whichever way you see it) the self: I gotta have it. I need it now. I must be cool.
Me. Mine. The I.
Or rather, the "i."
iPod. iPhone. iPad. iWatch (or whatever official name this new gadget is given). Faithful worshippers flood to the meccas of the Unspoiled Apple's shrines, throughout the world and by the millions. Come unto me, all ye who hunger and thirst, and buy from me, for I have gadgets on sale.
The Apple seems to offer choices: white or black? Gold or silver? How about an array of rainbow-colored music players? But the color never bleeds into the branding on the back.
This apple with the bite mark never turns brown.
-
Apple, or rather AAPL, the indomitable name that at one point commanded $700 a share, that grew and grew until the stock split, then proceeded to grow and grow some more… this Apple was my benefactor once.
When I closed on my co-op, 80% of the house belonged to the bank. Ten percent was courtesy of parental contribution (read: not mine, not really, except now it is). The remaining ten percent was (aside from a small percentage of my own savings, actual dollars in a bank account) jointly sponsored by AAPL, GOOG, MCD, and SBUX. The latter two were former employers and Google I use everyday. But AAPL? I wasn't a follower of the Almighty Apple then. Didn't even own an Apple device. But Apple is gracious and is not a respecter of persons. If you pay in-through products or stock market, it doesn't matter, all ways lead to The Apple-it will bless you, at least until it doesn't anymore and you need another fix, another high. (Buy more Apple products!)
As I glance around the mostly bare walls of my apartment, seeing its pale whiteness, I can't help but wonder if this place, too, has become brown-proof. But maybe it's not just the indoors that has become infected. The grittiness of the neighborhood outside? Ha! Can't you see the people congregating around the community garden, inhabitants of public housing complexes, black white yellow and brown but all wearing the mark of The Apple with their i-whatevers in hand? (Not all, not all. For there are still those who remain in the natural order of things, whether by choice or due to a lack of resources, whose apples are still food and still turn brown after a bite.)
-
I have since become an unwitting follower of The Apple-when I left my last job I was gifted with an iPad. Like Eve's apple, the moment I laid eyes on it, the spell was complete. When I put my hand to it (pick the fruit from the tree) and turned it on (taste it, take a bite), I was gone (fall, choose the "I" over your Creator. You know you want it).
"But it was a gift!" I protest.
YOU planted the tree in the garden.
"I still have a 'dumb phone'!"
I was perfectly fine with the other fruits until the serpent suggested this one.
"Everybody has an [insert Apple product here]!"
Look at Adam with fruit juice still running down his chin. He ate it too!
God condemned Adam and Eve to exile, to toil and labor, to Brown.
Outside the gates of paradise, The Apple gleams white (or black, or some other cool monochrome color. Just not brown). Bite mark or not, this apple will never decay to brown-there simply isn't time for oxidation (stand aside and make room for the iPhone 6! Who cares if your iPhone 3 still works? You shouldn't still be using it).
Oh, and when you upgrade to the latest iDevice, remember to recycle your electronics accordingly. After all, The Apple used to be multicolored and that little leaf was green once.
But even then, there was no brown.