Directory of Lost Causes (By Quentin S. Crisp)

Words of Advice for Young People

If Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen) by Baz Luhrmann is your favourite song, I suggest that you read no further, since I intend now to rip it to pieces. Apparently the song is based on an essay called "Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young", written by Mary Schmich. I don't know anything about that. I only know that I hated the song when I first heard it (not entirely inappropriately, just before my graduation), and I still hated it on Wednesday night when it came over the speakers of the pub at which I was attending a poetry gig.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering
experience…

Right, start as you mean to go on, with a nice, patronising opening line. Are you sure that no studies are going to overturn the findings on sunscreen? You're sure about that, now?

I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.

The power and beauty of your youth? My youth was mainly spent collapsed in a darkened room. There was never, unfortunately, any power and beauty in my youth, though I suppose there might have been if I had actually killed myself and prevented the fading effect mentioned. This is basically an admonition not to waste your youth. So, tell me, exactly what is there that you can do in order NOT to waste your youth? Nothing. It goes, that's all.

I'm actually interested in the consoling power of art, and I don't think consolation comes from people saying, "You should have done it like this." Or even, "You should do it like this." Especially not if that "this" is something both vague and impossible, like not wasting your youth. I remember the usual speech from people sitting behind desks at the front of class, you know, "You've got your whole life ahead of you." Which always made me think, "Yeah, and soon I'll have it all behind me, like you, you fuck, which is why you're standing in front of class telling me this, and can I please go and slash my wrists now?" And, of course, I was right.

Art, however, has the consoling power to make age seem less important. Consolation is, necessarily, a sad thing, but if you're reading a book, or looking at a painting, the chances are that you are alive and therefore in dire need of consolation. Media that focus on youth, such as pop music, produce icons who either need to die young or who sell-out or fade out. Art in its broadest sense, however, can make an icon out of William Burroughs with a Zimmer frame.

But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….

Yeah, thanks. I suppose it's not too late to slash my wrists now.

You’re not as fat as you
imagine.

But still pretty damned fat.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum.

This is so wise it makes me want to vomit. Now I'm worrying about how much I worry about things and how that's going to solve none of the problems that I envisage. Anyway, isn't this whole song designed to make you worry about everything?

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday.

SEE! I told you. What is this thing that's going to blindside me on Tuesday? Christ, I'll probably be knocked down by a car and brain-damaged for life or something. At 4.00 pm? Right. I'll make sure I stay in my room, under the blankets, at 4.00 pm on Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you

Getting out of bed scares me. Especially after knowing that I'm going to be blindsided. I don't need to bungee jump, mere consciousness is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. Besides which, this song is beginning to get decidedly MOTIVATIONAL. Please spare me. As an alternative to motivational lyrics, I would propose the following from Morrissey's Maladjusted: "Still I maintain there's nothing wrong with you/You do all that you do because it's all you can do."

Sing

There's a bit in Great Expectations where Miss Haversham invites Pip round to play with Estella (secretly plotting for Pip to fall in love with her so that Estella can break his heart as part of Miss Haversham's revenge against the male sex), and she places a number of toys before Pip and commands him to play, and suddenly, although he felt like playing just seconds before, he loses all the will to do so.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.

I think you basically have to be reckless in order to get anywhere near someone's heart. But is this is literal advice, for surgeons and their patients, then I agree... wholeheartedly.

Floss

I never got the hang of flossing. Interesting that the American preoccupation with perfect teeth should come out in this song.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy;

While I agree that envy is a waste of time, it is, apparently, central to my psyche, according to the enneagram, on which index I have been diagnosed as a 'romantic' or 'individualist'. The dominant emotion of our lives - and I am in no position to deny this - is not something like love, but envy. Everyone else has something we don't have. Sure enough, excepting people with extreme life-challenges, such as having no limbs, I think I'd rather be anyone but myself.

sometimes you’re ahead,

When? When was this? Tell me.

sometimes
you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself.

With myself? Then I really can't win. I'm doomed.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Hahaha. Very cheeky.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

I've heard somewhere that you're legally required to keep all financial documents for five years (in the UK). Maybe I'm wrong. In any case, I've never in my life been able to keep track of any piece of paper that comes into my possession. It's hardly a matter of throwing them away. I wish I could find them in the first place.

Stretch

See. I told you. Motivational. Now we're on to the aerobics.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.

I know. I've just never been able to do it. That makes me less interesting and a failure at the same time.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Oh no! Am I going to be kneecapped on Tuesday at 4.00 pm? Is that what's going to happen? Is this a threat? "You'll miss your kneecaps when they're gone, pal!"

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…

Que sera sera/Whatever will be, will be/The only certainty/Is decay towards death... Etc.

Que Sera Sera, incidentally, is possibly the most disturbing song ever written.

what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

So I'm half-responsible and half at the mercy of random injustice? I'm not sure either if that's true, though it might be, or how it helps me to know that. Don't congratulate myself too much? When does it become too much? I'm not sure I've ever congratulated myself, actually. I'm confused now.

Enjoy your body,

Having a complete stranger tell me to enjoy my body makes me feel a bit weird. It's not just that I keep thinking he's going to say, "Because no one else will!", it's also the sensation of someone invading my private space, so to speak, standing a bit too close.

use it every way you can

…

Steady on, old chap!

don’t be afraid of it, or what other people
think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever
own..

!!!!

Dance…

You know, one thing I really dislike about this song is the way it's punctuated with these exhortations, in a slightly breathy voice, as if they're meant to be uplifting, poignant and sexy all at once. It's like someone inexpertly blowing in my ear.

It's like all these pop songs telling you to respect yourself, express yourself, be yourself. No, I don't want to be myself, thank you very much. For an alternative to this emetic tendency, please refer to David Bowie's Quicksand: "Don't believe in yourself/Don't deceive with belief/Knowledge comes with death's release."

even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Yes, dance on your own, in front of the mirror, with a hairbrush for a microphone, singing, "Last night I dreamt/That somebody loved me/No hope, no harm, just another false alarm", and then collapse into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Why are you telling me this?

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

That's perfectly true, actually. They always make me feel extremely ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good.

Now we're getting maudlin.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you
should hold on.

I feel like we're entering personal territory here. The advice is redundant. It either applies, and you already know it, or it doesn't apply. In any case, it's not the kind of thing I want to be reminded about by Baz Luhrmann in that patronising drawl of his.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young.

We're really getting boring now. See above.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard;

I'd love to live in New York City and hang out with my good friend Sarah Jessica-Parker. Can anyone get me a green card?

live
in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Yeah, that would be great, too. If anyone in Northern California is interested in a marriage of inconvenience (for them) then I'm up for it.

Travel.

Yeah, yeah, travel broadens the mind and all that. It's also a bit of a luxury. Seriously, I think it's about time we started to at least consider the benefits of not travelling around so much.

Accept certain inalienable truths,

Inalieable truths? Inalienable truths? Is there such a thing?

prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders.

I'm not sure I'll ever get so misty-eyed that I'll believe politicians used to be noble.

Respect your elders.

Very clever. I like it. Straight after saying that old people think young people don't respect their elders, there's this sanctimonious exhortation to respect your elders. There's a real serious moral core to this song, then, you can tell.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you.

Everyone is supported one way or another, but some of us get a better deal.

Maybe you have a trust fund,
maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out.

Or maybe you're homeless on the streets, but don't expect people will always be throwing you coins.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85.

Well, you could always shave it off and get a wig. In fact, I'm all for wigs, the more ostentatious, the better.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it.

Ahahaa! You cunning dog! All this time letting us think you were some pious, patronising, tedious old git, and there you go at the end with a nice little touch of irony. Ha ha! Be patient with those who supply it. Yes, very good. I get it. That means you, doesn't it, because if anyone's got this far into the song without vomiting or stabbing themselves, then they really have been patient.

Advice is a form of nostalgia,

Fuck! That's pretty fucking gnostic!

dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than
it’s worth.

Hmmm. Nice bit of self-deprecation. A little bit mawkish, a little bit barbed. Still managing to maintain the smug, wiser-than-thou, strangely sentimental weariness of the overall tone.

But trust me on the sunscreen…

Just when you thought you'd successfully resisted the urge to vomit, here comes the 'clever little twist' at the end, like a knowing wink. Or like fingers down your throat.

Now that I've spent so much time with the song, getting to know it, it feels like an old friend. Still, I prefer Burroughs' Words of Advice for Young People. Basically, though, advice is crap.

Labels: Baz Luhrmann, Mary Schmich, Sunscreen song