Perhaps the greatest composer of his generation CĂ©leste Hutchins draws his inspiration for the music of the spheres, something he’s been attuned to since beings from Betelgeuse implanted sensors in his cerebral cortex in 2001. Since that time, he has won the Prix Noveau de la Musique Mental on Auron (2002), the Young Composer Constrained Prize on Cygnus Alpha (2003), the Timely Arts Prize on Gallifrey (1250), the Destructive Process Award on Skaro (2006), and the Musical Answers Prize on Magrathea (2007).
Hutchins’ music has been played on radio throughout the galaxy, including Colonial Wireless, Radio Free Abelmouth, and Live 34. He has been interviewed in London Metropolitan and Global Weekly. He is currently a fellow at Jordan College, Oxford and is at work on an opera commissioned by the Vogon Royal Opera with a libretto by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, tentatively titled Midsummer Green Putty.
His music cures some forms of cancer.
Author: Charles Céleste Hutchins
Nationalize, Not Bailout
With 700 billion dollars at hand at any time, Wall Street’s party isn’t over, it’s just getting started.
There’s a plan afoot to take our tax dollars and give them away to huge companies that have made poor choices. We buy off their bad assets, sell them at a huge loss and then sit around waiting for them to have more bad assets. It’s a $700 BILLION pool of money, that never goes dry. We can’t have national health care, because that’s too expensive, but any hedge fund in trouble can have cash when they need it.
We infuse huge amounts of tax dollars, what will turn out out be trillions, over time, and in the end, have nothing. The uber-rich, however, have a huge safety net. They can make no wrong choice. If they bet on prices going up, and they go up, big win for them. If they bet on prices going up, and they go down, our taxes make up the difference. It’s a hell of a party when you don’t have to pay for it.
The idea is that some businesses are too big to fail and too important to our economy and therefore, it’s in our shared, public interest to help them out. And this could well be true. Large banks are an essential part of any modern, market economy and having tax payer backup for them is an important tool. But if we’re paying for them, we should own them. Companies that are so important to our well-being that they need public support, should belong to the public. If they’re central to the government’s mission, they should be part of the government. If we pay when they lose, we should profit when they profit. Things like health insurance, banks, and public utilities are too important to be run like a card game. If we need them, then the people in charge should be answerable to the public who relies on them, not on shareholders who place bets as if it’s poker.
Companies that are not vital to our interests, but so big that they can’t fail are too big. Break them up! Don’t just hand over our money. This is class warfare. they want to squeeze every drop of cash out of the middle class and the poor and use it to buy themselves third, fourth and fifth houses, while leaving the federal government to foreclose on our sole homes. Don’t forget that these “bad assets” are our homes! Professional bankers and mortgage brokers advised private individuals to take poor risks. These professionals committed fraud. They lied to us. They lied to their superiors, who were only too happy to look the other way. A whole lot of deception went into this mess. Nobody in the banking industry was shocked when their loans starting going bad. They knew they had been making bad loans. They also knew they still got to keep the huge bonuses that they paid themselves. And they knew they could count on tax payers to bail them out. The same tax payers who are now also facing foreclosure and are suffering generally under the credit crunch.
The people who made this mess should be the ones to pay for it. The rich made money off of this. Tax them! They can spare it. Tax the war profiteering corporations who have been making billions off of our tax dollars by not rebuilding Iraq. Tax the oil companies. Tax the profiteers!
I think safety nets are an entirely reasonable part of an economy. But they should be there for people who need them. If I get sick and get laid off, I lose my house. If we can afford to help out robber barons, we can certainly afford to help out people who are having a rough time. How many people could get healthcare for $700 billion? How many kids could go to college? How many unemployed people could have an extra month of breathing room while they look for a job in a crap economy?
We’re in the credit crunch because of fraud, certainly. But we’re also here because of deregulation. Regulations are there to prevent things like this. They need to be re-instated. Our houses, our jobs, our economy are not playthings for speculation. Banks and insurance companies need to be kept separate. Our currency is not a toy for speculators. Our manufacturing sector hasn’t gone offshore because of the magical free hand of the marketplace, it’s gone offshore because of changes in tax laws. We have the power to control how we allocate our money, who gets and how resources are managed. We could re-instate the tariffs that used to protect our manufacturing sector and thus create jobs and reduce the carbon footprint of global shipping. We could start enforcing the laws that are supposed to protect unions and make safer, better workplaces. We could stop government outsourcing, so that people who provide public services are loyal to the public and when disaster strikes, we’re not at the mercy of private firms, Blackwater and mercenaries. The government could actually govern! It could provide services. It could stabilize the economy. It could use our resources to help us, not the rich friends of corrupt officials. Things do not have to be like this.
The bailout is the wrong answer. If we have to save a company, we should own it. Nationalize, not bailout!
More navel gazing
For a while now, I’ve secretly wished not to have any emotions at all. (It was a very secret wish: even I was not informed.) I want to run around doing exciting things, but I want to dispassionately observe them at a distance. I want to watch myself on the telly. I want to be a perpetual tourist in my own life. I want an off switch on my emotion chip like the silly Star Trek android, Data.
On the other hand, I’ve been feeling more or less depressed recently, which I hadn’t felt for a quite a while . . . and I have had virtually no anxiety. Are my choices anxiety or mild depression? It’s much nicer to be sad for no reason than to be panicked for no reason.
I don’t have data, but I suspect that it’s very difficult to write music while striving to not feel anything. Which may also explain why it’s been so hard.
Why try not to feel? Well, it often kind of sucks. A few years ago, when I used to sometimes get depressed or stressed or whatever, I had a feeling like I was at the bottom of a long shaft, like a smokestack of an abandoned factory. And on my shoulders, there was a flat, large board that fit perfectly inside the shaft, like the floor of an elevator car. I was holding it on my shoulders to keep from getting crushed while more and more things got dropped on to it. But this image is no longer current.
Now, I feel like a bag of parts. Like a cloth sack wrapped around something porcelain, that got smashed in shipping. I feel broken. But mending. Like Frankenstein’s monster, the parts re-assembled, slightly misjoined, ringed by scars. Still in the midst of loose bits, nothing in quite the right place. Misshapen, ugly, absorbed in myself.
I want to go out and live and make mistakes and recover from them and have excitement, novelty, adventure, etc, but not feel it. I want pain without hurting.
Sophie says that I clearly hate myself. I want her to be wrong.
Absolutely fascinating
I’m starting to get the idea that i might be kind of boring.
I don’t talk to many people on a daily basis, which has been the norm for a few years now, but still feels a bit odd to me. So when i do get to talk, i may do it too much. My neighbor, Paula has been talking to me about the thought processes of aspies. Alas, a lot of it is extremely familiar. I compared myself to my surviving relatives and thought i must be NT, but i now suspect i may have been projecting a binary opposition on what should have been a gradation.
Ok, i don’t get people, especially not normal people. And maybe i bore them and miss cues suggesting that, say, archeological remains of medieval bell casting is not the most fascinating topic on earth. (Which is madness, because it is so clearly super awesome.)
I’ve known so many sort of awkward composers, obsessed with odd bits of things. I’ve always found it charming. I love hearing people talking about things that fascinate them. It’s performative, in a way. But awkward folks going on at great lengths about historical hapsicord tunings, well, they’re my people. I can kind of see how some folks might not dig it.
How do i feel about this? I don’t know. I’d rather be an interesting composer than an interesting conversationalist. I know these aren’t in opposition, but somehow, the idea increases my confidence in my music.
Which, alas, has been pretty low lately. I’ve been kind of suffering for art and, maybe worse, making other suffer for it – not just by boring them. Which leads naturally to the question of whether or not it’s worth it. Is my art, in specific, worth sacrifice? Is it worth being alone? Is it worth the investment of time and money? But these might be the wrong questions to ask. I had a lot more money and a much better social life when i was a software engineer, but it wasn’t sustainable for me.
I don’t know what my point is here. It’s time for me to start composing again. To paraphrase john cage, i’m going to dedicate my life to beating my head against a wall.
Long time no blog
I haven’t been posting much lately. Things are not going all that great and I don’t really want to talk about it. I blogged a bunch when I got divorced about love and relationships and blah blah blah. It was a big learning experience of navel gazing wisdom. What I’ve learned lately is that I suck at relationships. And that testosterone seems to cause belly button lint.
I’m trying to pull myself together, so I’m going to a shrink next week. And I’m going to Rome next weekend, on a whim and an invitation from a stranger. Yeah, so I’m nuts and also somewhat extravagant.
When I was getting divorced, I discovered that was poorly individuated. I’m still really fuzzy around the edges. I need to be ok with being alone. I feel a little Peter Pan-ish. I appear to be about 19. I’ve never really been by myself. I’m perpetually a student . . .. I don’t know what it means to be an adult, but it’s time I got on with it.
At the same time as I’m having angst, I’m settling into London’s queer scene which is large and friendly. I am not settling into the music scene as quickly, nor am I writing much. I understand it can be problematic to block out one’s woes in bars, especially if one isn’t getting much work done. But it’s better than sitting home by myself having angst, right? If I’m not going to write anything, I might as well not write anything in Rome for a few days. It’s all good until the money runs out.
Room for Improvement
Five months ago, I posted a video to YouTube. A few weeks later, I played it for my supervisor, who gave me some very good feedback. He suggested that I vary the sounds of it and put the voice nearer the end, in order to not give it away and consider doing something about the sameness of the video. He indicated that it was too short to be minimalist, but too unchanging to fill the entire duration.
So this is what I’ve been working on. And working on. And working on. Every change I make seems to make the video worse. Which is hardly encouraging. It’s hard to work on for that reason. And also because I picked sounds for it that make me feel very nervous and edgy. And also because the subject matter makes me squirm.
It’s not that it couldn’t be better, it’s that I can’t seem to make it better.
The deadline is fast approaching for the Transgender Film Festival (indeed, if it is not already passed) and I’ve shown this video once to a small group and gotten some feedback from the YouTube posting. It seems to resonate well with women and gender minorities / queers. If straight men aren’t moved by it as much, should I care? Or am I just annoyed because the changes I’m making are really not helping?
Can it still be part of my PhD if I can’t repair it?
None of the composed music I’ve done in the last year has been especially engaging.
Injection Report
I got registered with a new GP who suggested that I should keep stabbing myself. I should have objected. I hate doing it and I’m not good at it. For example, this time:
I shattered the ampoule and bits of it got in the T. Damn, I should have cleaned the outside with surgical spirits before opening it. I drew it into the needle and then pushed the needle into my leg. You’re supposed to draw back on the syringe to make certain you haven’t hit a blood vessel, so I did that and got air bubbles?!?! How is there an air pocket in my leg?
I decided to re-stab, but motherfucker, the needle was not as sharp on the second go. Ouch. The second time, I decided that air in my leg, must be a feature, so I pushed it in anyway.
So I put unsterile T in my leg with some air bubbles and a dull needle and my hands were shaking like hell. I am so going to get a nurse to do this in three weeks. That or a junkie.
New Information
DOROTHY: Oh, will you help me? Can you help me?
GLINDA:
You don’t need to be helped any longer.
You’ve always had the power to go back to
Kansas.DOROTHY:
I have?SCARECROW:
Then why didn’t you tell her before?GLINDA:
Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She
had to learn it for herself.
I have a French friend, Sasha, staying with me for a couple of nights. He asked me why I wanted to change my name. I gave hi a look, but before I could speak, he continued, “It’s a gender neutral name in France.” And went on to tell me that it was exceedingly traditional.
Saint CĂ©leste was the second bishop of Metz, around the end of the third century. My middle name is “Marie”, which is a traditional masculine middle name for Catholic French men. To pick an unfortunate example, it’s the middle name of Jean Marie Le Pen.
Sasha said, you can’t get much more traditional than that, the name of a bishop and then Marie as a middle name.
It’s somewhat archaic. In the 18th century, it would have been male all the time. Now, it’s more often given to girls, but still can go either way.
All my life, I’ve wished I had a gender neutral name.
What do you mean I’ve had it the entire time?!
I had filled out zero paperwork towards trying to get my name changed. It’s a bit of a pain in the ass, obviously, especially living abroad. I was going to wait until I could also change my gender marker, which will also require a new passport – and thus a new student visa. It took me months to get the last one, so you can see why I hesitate.
It’s certainly simpler not to change my name at all. Ok, in English, it’s almost always given to girls, but it’s not an English name. Really, what was my mom thinking giving me a French name in the first place? There’s no French in my family, even, except for a rumor that her maiden name had distantly French origins. Like, Norman Invasion sort of distant.
I have a hobby, and that’s second guessing myself.
But name wasn’t nearly as girly as I thought. Plus, I have a saint day, the 14th of October. (This is something that matters in Catholic school . . ..) And the saint was a dude. If I wanted to change my name because it was much too feminine, but it turns out to have masculine roots and a masculine present, well, that changes things.
In the states, nobody will have heard of such a thing, but it’s not common there anyway and I’m not going back in the next two years, so . . . What to do? I want to work this out sooner, rather than later. It’s a funny thing, Sasha brought it up because I was changing it, but never mentioned it earlier.
I feel kind of like Dorothy in that scene in the Wizard of Oz. (that’s so so gay.)
Keep calling me Les
There’s never a convenient time to get a sex change. I mean, really. There’s always other things going on in your life that are going to get disrupted. 90% of you reading this think I’m talking about surgery (and are quietly crossing your legs, I’m sure), but it’s like a million fucking things. (Such is the poor scheduling of post teenage puberty.) One of the most annoying is the name thing.
I have a tiny smattering of people who may search for me under my given name on the internets. I’m not a famous composer (yet), but I’m out there a bit. I would like people who have got something from the first 10 years of my production to be able to find me.
If I were more radical, I would leave my name unchanged Right now, though, that’s not working for me. So I started going by the middle three letters of my name. And then I started doing music with the appellation, but I think this is a mistake. People from earlier won’t find me. It makes the “C Hutchins” on my podcast kind of inexplicable. It’s not the thing to do.
So if trying to leave my name unchanged will make me unhappy and ‘Les’ isn’t the answer, what to do? An ideal name would: Start with C. Somehow be related to what my parents might have named me (I would have my brother’s name, so I think about what they would have named him) or have a connection to my family. Contain a “Les” in it someplace, so I could keep using it as a nickname.
My uncle and great grandfather were named Charles. Ok, perfect.
So, for people searching for me on google, I can go by “Charles Celeste Hutchins.” So I’m going to publish music under that name from now on and I’ve stuck it on my email. It will go on future business cards, etc.
And you can keep calling me whatever you call me.
I’m in the newspaper
I wrote a letter to Jon Carrol of the Chronicle and he ran it. The topic is bike routes and traffic in the East Bay. I tried to make it really short, but I worry that I sounded like an asshole.
I run stop signs all the time on the Berkeley Bike Boulevards. These are bike routes that run parallel to main streets in Berkeley. The roads are very residential and have stop signs on them quite frequently. There is not much cross traffic at these signs , nor much car traffic on the streets. In some places, they are blocked so that bikes can get through but cars can’t. The system is imperfect because the frequent stop signs technically apply to bikes, but the routes would be unusable to anyone who actually obeyed them.
What I didn’t say is that I don’t cut people off or aggravate car drivers or risk my own safety. I slow down for stop signs, which, honestly, is all the many car drivers do as well. Also what I didn’t say is that the problem could be mitigated by better signage. They need to put in one set of “yield” signs for bikes only and leave the stop signs for cars. Most issues with bike routes in suburban cities like this could be alleviated with better signage, but the ideas for how to post them are foreign and would not occur to somebody who hadn’t biked overseas.
Also what’s not obvious is that taking out stop signs would greatly increase safety. People are more cautious in uncontrolled intersections and this increases safety. Accidents aren’t avoided by just carefully following the law. Accidents are avoided by people seeing each other and being careful. So either better signs or no signs would help a lot. And roundabouts. How to design to increase safety isn’t some deep dark secret. The information is easily accessible and sometimes discussed in the newspaper and whatnot, so the city planners are aware that they’ve created a situation that’s dangerous to bikers and annoying to car drivers, but they make no major changes, even when the cost would be low. Why?
Well, I’ve dealt with the city of Berkeley planning commission and I suspect that they want to share the pain of their bitter twisted lives with others and also are frequently drunk at work plus they are resistant to any kind of change at all, even when it’s entirely sensible.
Carroll cut the part of my letter where I talked about the end of the California/ King bike boulevard. The bike route just dead ends at a major street with a median strip. The Oakland bike route picks up on the other side. There is no legal way to get across the major street without getting off your bike and walking it across a zebra crossing. Cops don’t give you tickets for biking across it, but they could. Also, it’s dangerous and scary. I hate that intersection so much and yet it still seems safer than biking along a more major street.
My hope and expectation is that since we’ve passed peak oil, there will be more and more and more bikers and numbers will increase safety.
Isn’t it amazing that I can live on another continent and still be opinionated about biking in the East Bay. Don’t worry, I have suggestions for London as well, starting with replacing the congestion charge with an outright ban on private cars for non-disabled people.