There was a truck stopped at an intersection, with signage that stated ‘sensitive freight’. I misread the word ‘sensitive’ as ‘cognative’ and my mind was sent on a whirlwind of thoughts.

The intersection of technology and books, which I have previously discussed in blogs for university courses, has me constantly thinking of postmodernist writing, and how we, as writers, can break the barriers of text.

Postmodernist writing is constantly changing the way we read literature.

J.M. Coetzee wrote Diary of a Bad Year, which is comprised of three literally linear narratives (shown in three sections on the one page of each page of the book). It is comprised of the essays of a writer, who asks a neighbour to type these essays, as well as the diary entries of each character. It is affronting as it changes the way in which a novel is read. In order to understand each narrative clearly, the novel cannot be read down the page but rather in sections that force the reader to begin back at the start of the novel at the end of each section.

Diary of a Bad Year by JM Coetzee

Mark Z. Danielewski is what is now considered the post-postmodern generation of writers. His first book House of Leaves is a hypertextual descent into madness, as shown through the unconventional page layout. The visual of the page is said to create a direction reflection of the emotional pull of the narrative. It contains single words on pages, endless footnotes, articles and a general sense of insensity. It is very hard to start, let alone finish–which I have not, on instruction from someone who has read it at least twice previous–as well as difficult to explain. Danielewski’s second novel, Only Revolutions, is a circular stream-of-consciousness narrative in that it can be turned upside down and read in the opposite direction.

Films display the easiest understandable visual depiction of postmodernism. Rather than discuss the novel, I’ve chosen Fight Club as my representation of postmodernism in film. As everyone probably knows, Fight Club deals with the masculine view of postmodern society. The existential novel since the absurdists, Fight Club dealt with the masculine place in the pop culture world. The game of the film is in the deception. For one who hasn’t read the novel, I won’t spill the secret but what makes Fight Club postmodern is the reality it creates inside itself. It’s not realistic in the same terms as the modernist realism film techniques as David Fincher, Fight Club’s director, deliberately utilises a cinematic metaphor of the narrator’s state of mind. The juxtaposition of visual styles leaves the audience unaware of which reality is their reality.

On the bus, listening to an audio book read by an actor after hearing one of his songs previously on the playlist, I realised that we don’t definitively look to songs for postmodern realities that film and literature create. Postmodernism often utilises a modified version of our ‘reality’ or a direct reference to the reality created inside the text.

Contemporary music doesn’t have this preconceived notion of reality. Concept albums are one example, as per Coheed and Cambria‘s science fiction story line The Amory Wars, and David Bowie’s alter ego Ziggy Stardust exemplified Bowie’s musical innovation.

I think this rule-less world of lyricism is fascinating. One verse can be completely different from the first, a whole different world and with the application of music, it allows a narrative to be told.

Because of that CD, which is still floating around in my parents truly horrible collection of music, I knew all the lyrics to “I Want To Break Free” before I knew about “Bohemian Rhapsody”. It wasn’t until I started searching for my own  music in early high school that I came across “Bohemian Rhapsody”. My musical world was exploding with Aretha Franklin and the Ramones and music was vast and creatively endless.

In grade nine or ten, my school concert band was playing a Queen medley. I was first trumpet, along with a new friend, and in a music lesson one school day, our music instructor sat us down and talked about Queen. He hooked up his fandangled mp3 player to the speaker in the tiny soundproofed room and we sat and listened to Bohemian Rhapsody. After the song had finished, he asked us what we thought it meant.None of us really had an answer, all I remember is that music teacher telling us it was about Freddie Mercury and his battle with AIDs.

Several years later, I was in a Coles car park in West End, getting out of my friend’s car as we headed towards Three Monkeys for a late meal. “Bohemian Rhapsody” was the last thing playing on her ipod in her car and we sat in her car and waited until it played out before leaving the car park. After our little sing along, she turned to me and wondered aloud what the song was about. I retold what my music teacher had said, we stood there under the fluorescent and had a little moment. Everything was quiet like the world around us was remembering the legacy Queen left.

Yesterday, I followed the hypertextual motorway called social networking to two links. Coincidentally they both contained versions of Queen songs that I loved because of the pure geekery displayed in the version of the songs.

First is the Muppets.

My favourite characters as a kid, and are still now as an adult, were Statler and Waldorf, but I can’t even begin to name all of my favourite parts of this video. With the inclusion of Manamana and Beeker, the video sent me back in time. It reminded me of being a kid, watching these hilarious puppets and playing “Under Pressure” until my Mum’s head burst. The next video sent me back in a different direction.

During part of primary and high school, I’d go to the PCYC afterschool program until my Mum finished work. My love of gaming really started there, with the competitions that were held at the end of the hall on the tiny little tvs hooked up with the game consoles. I first played a version of Mario on my best friend’s Nintendo, I’m pretty sure it was Mario World but I can’t be sure, but on those afternoons I was at the PCYC, I owned the boys at Mario Kart.

And “Don’t Stop Me Now” has a special place in my heart, because it seems to be the song that always ends a stint of depression (and the accompanying writers block). I don’t think you can be morose after injecting that song through your eardrums. After hearing these songs again, in this format, brightened my rained-on day. It gave me good memories of a past I can barely remember and set me in spirits that were bright. It was a little walk down a musical memory lane.

So, few readers, care to share the band that has followed you through time?

Potato Smiles: A Tribute to MJ

Long live Thriller.

[Side note: I froze the Smiles]

[Side note 2: The director of the High School Musical movies directed this film. Good or bad thing?]