There is a common movie plot formula (expecialy childrens movies) that consists of the main character hating they're own life and whishing for a different one, but when they receive the life they want they soon discover that its not what they thought it would be, and that the main characters origonal life was better. Theres another term I herd I forget where that 'if everyone put they're problems on the table and saw everone else's, we'd all take our own back' and its trying to tell us to be happy with what we have. be content. And I always thought fuck thats not what it means. It means we would all rather be comfortable that we would all much rather have what is familiar to us then what is better that no one wants to take risks because we all are sure our luck is bad and that is the only lesson I learnt.
i am tired of passionate angry angst depression though i will get back to it. remmeber that calm depression? or maybe it isn't even depression and just 'feeling sad' the shins depression the young marble giants depression the quiet loanly hot chocolate and a movie and lying down and dying and all the cheesy lines that somehow don't sound cheesy right then depression. the never self indulgent depression. does no one have this anymore?
for years, I think since I was in seventh grade and ending last year when I started to receive a certain amount of unexpected female attention, I made a point to avoid looking at myself in mirror. I'd glance at myself momentarily after my morning shower to make sure noting what wildly out of place and then go. don't linger. keep moving. the rest of the day. Why did I do this? because though I was a moron in my younger years I was a rather bright moron and occasionally I'd have some incite. Through the first two grades of middle school I realized that, wile the common assumption is that people look like they act, its generally the opposite: People act how they look.
which is to say if someone looks tall and lanky they'll develop that lanky personality, if they're attractive in a main stream way they'll take to drugs and parties, if they're attractive in a bookish way they'll take to books, if they're not all that attractive in a scrawny way, well, it seems like they'd take to hanging out with me and my friends and ripping on the rest of this well oiled system.
I am ashamed of this but my and my friends even as far as to coin a pseudo-psychological term "ugly girl syndrome" to explain why so many ugly girls (ugly exclusively in a classic sense, not more interesting looking but still ugly girls) had lousy personalities. This happens in greater ratios when the girl is in a group of friends that contains a large amount of attractive girls. The ugly girl feels starved for attention or left out and her personality develops to compensate. Or, an even better explanation, people just treat her like an ugly person. They assume she has the qualities that people who look like her tend to posses and she'll develop these qualities to fit the expectations of those around her.
And similarly, not all tall lanky people have even remotely similar personality, but people from a young age treat them like they do and they conform to these expectations.
another explanation is that they look in the mirror in the morning and impose these expectations on themselves.
so I said fuck that, I am who I am. And when I have no idea what I look like that's not a problem. well, people still treated me like I looked but I was blissfully unaware of why they were treating me that way, and thought them to be crazy.
but that didn't really get me laid.
I got a computer and I told my self that when I got a computer I would start a tumblr. An excuse to engage my purely visual thoughts, and great things I found on the internet, and to generally join the growing community. so here it is: liars.tumblr.com. Unlike the turntable, its meant for mass consumption, I wouldn't mind just anyone finding about about it. In fact, I'd like tons of people to know about it. But its not really for words, at least not in long form, and the turntable will continued to be updated. enjoy.
i said, kiss me you are beautiful - these are truly the last days.
hmm, I don't even care for Firefly all that much, or well, its intreeging but I've only watched about two epesodes and don't care to watch any tv at all right now, but... the theme song for the show is much much better then it has any right to be.
Take my love, take my land Take me where I cannot stand I don't care, I'm still free You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black Tell them I ain't comin' back Burn the land and boil the sea You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be Since I found serenity But you can't take the sky from me.
Jackie used to say her favorite word, I think, was euphoria. I told her mine is serenity. And I thought, all I want in life is serenity. just to be ok with it. and, of course, I don't want that anymore, I want passion. And I guess when it comes down to it all I have is passion, I have no serenity.
Parker was here two weeks ago. We spent a weekend just talking and playing guitar and seeing concerts. It was more or less surreal and amazing. what we talked about mostly was ourselves. music, and culture, and people and girls and ourselves. And when it came down to it... look, we're assholes. the think I remeber the sharpest is when parker said "Its really just because we think we're better then everyone. We do think we're better than everyone. We think our ideas are better, we think how we live our lives are better..." and he's right. we do. We are assholes.
I am an asshole. I will always hate the people around me because... because they like mcdonalds, or because they don't know what fallafel is, or because they listen to kings of leon or becase they like the shins but for the wrong reasons. I hate people because they wait at crosswalks or becasue they won't go into public parks after night or becasue they wear nice clothes or because they don't know who sonic youth is, or even because they know who sonic youth is and think thats a big accomplishment. I AM SUCH AN ASSHOLE. I just smile and lie to all these people and more.
And besides for that I am self obsessed. to the point of narssesism. All I think about is my self and where I got it right and where I am an asshole. all I think about is who I am. All my film ideas are about the person I want to become, which is just a way of making films about an idealized version of my self. all I think about is myself.
In the documentry Helvetica theres two main points of view expressed about use of the font. The modernists of the fiftys and sixties thought it was neutral and clear and beautiful. They used it for everything. The eightys and ninetys thought it was bland and meaningless and a corprate simbol. That you needed expressive fonts to say expressive things. The modernests thought these people were just making the world less beautiful. The later artists didn't think aestetic beauty was the end all.
in one of the end scenes they showed a verry resent young artist who used helvetica a lot. he didn't know or care about the debate around it. He wasn't concerned so much about the philosophy of aestetics over all or nihilism over all. He just made good art that he liked. We are the younger generation who grew up fast and our ignorance is setting us free. its alowing us to do the best work.
another case is with political corectness. Two generations ago they are/were verry politicaly incorect. They were racist and sexist and hit their kids in school and all sorts of other things. The generation above us changed the cuture and made a point to be verry politicaly correct (they invented the term). They didn't use red pens in school, they tiptoed around words, they said African American, and all sorts of other horrible things. Our generation is breaking down pollitical correct, but we're not snaping back to our grandparents. We just say what makes sence. No bullshit. We use helvetica to say sunshine.
I have started to make a soundtrack to my own disappearance. Constructing in my head and semi-actively on a tape songs and albums I would take with me when I run away. Not that I plan on disappearing, because I don't. But the thought interests me. My decaying green cd case holds thirty discs. What goes in it? My tape, ninty minnutes. And I think, you know, it has been a wile since the Beatles graced the interior of my opitical drive, the stones, much much longer. These days I trafic in Lighning Bolt and Holy Miranda and Ride, but, they would not make it in. Had I a twelve hour bus trip to a place where once again I knew no one I would revert back to the timeless I think. Arctic Monkeys, Cat Power, The Shins, I think. Music to keep me alive.
Somehow I feel like... I'm at an end. or, more that I'm at The end. That my story is closing. "And after the hardship and the struggle and the unrestrained joy, stuart came to pratt to die."
I don't plan on dying. Its just a feeling.
I don't know why I'm feeling like this right now. I'll snap out of it.
I have been thinking a bit about the concept of transience. Last saturday (thats how long I've been meaning to write this post. Its been a fucking busy week)...Last saturday I saw so many amazing things, so many incredible little happenings that I experienced one by one by accident. All by my self, without my camera. And I think - I have to tell someone about this. I have to let someone know of all the small magical insignificant moments that occurred. And then I thought that no. How brilliant it is that there is no evidence. How amazing that I would be the only one to experience this day just as I experienced it and it would never happen again. How amazing that these things were here and gone. And if noone else could have the day like I did then why try to give them that experience, knowing that your attempts are futile. And so I didn't talk about it, except to tell people that saturday was good, and I didn't talk about it again, and I didn't talk about it again.
And I think, art, in itself, is a lie. Sure its a lie to tell the truth but why should it hold up next to the unadulterated truth? Yes a photograph can be beautiful, and movies intoxicating, and paintings and sculpture and music and so on. But my eyes see in billions of colors with gigantic resolution and infinite color depth. My ears here crystal clear uncompressed audio in ten thousand point surround sound. My skin feels the wind and the pavement and the rush of this city pulsing through my vains. I am the perfect entertainment system with beautiful experiences displayed through it eighteen hours a day, every day I live, and if I payed a bit more attention to it then I would perfect the art of living.
There's a scene in a lot of movies and tv shows and general feel good pulp where an older person is asked about their life and this person says "yes, it was hard, but you know what? If I went back I would do it all again the same. I don't regret anything" and I think bull shit. and I think you know what? if I went back again I would do it all differently I would change every single tiny thing I did. I regret everything. I do. I regret everything.
but really, I don't want to go back. the thought of doing so would keep me up at night. even the good parts were bad and thinking of it any other way I think would be lying to myself. It has all been such a struggle every single goddamn step and though I suppose its turned out alright which is to say thouse struggles made me who I am now and I like who I am, does that make them worth it? If I was stuck back as me as a three year old and told "well, your going to have the next fifteen years as constant struggle, and probably more after that, but it will be worth it becasue at eighteen you'll like the person you are" would I go for it? would I think that was worth it? I don't think so.
but thouse fifteen years are over now and I will never have to repeat them. amen.
When we used to have to run the mile I used to think damn I wish I was me an hour from now. I will no longer be sweaty and tired and, most importantly, I will no longer be running and I will not have a mile left to do infront of me. I will be done with the work and able to reap the benefit. And you know what? Theres so much we do for Stuart an hour from now, or ourselves next year or in the vauge fucking future and now I thinking Fuck stuart of the future. That jackass benefiting off of my work. Fuck you Stuart looking back on this a year from now thinking how far you've come from this point. How stupid, how imature, stuart of fall 2009 is. Fuck you. You're not even me anymore, your someone else, someone I can't predict.
And I think how much stuart of winter 2008 was and idiot, and I think of how stuart of summer 2001 would hate me and be ashamed of his association if we ever met, and I guess I don't care. They don't exist any more.
This heart ache is worse then I though it would be. Its been four weeks. I should be over this. I Need to be over this. I don't want to feel this way any longer.
Amelie is one of my favorite movies. Just want to get that out there before I start.
Its set in the summer of '97 (is that corect? I can't remeber right now) right after Princes Diana died. This has nothing at all to do with the plot. And yet it hovers there in the background, because (and I do remember that point in time) at that moment news of Diana was everywhere, unavoidable, even though it didn't fit in with the plot of our own individual lives.
In June, as you may have herd, Michael Jackson died. As a result, for the enire summer every single store you walked into instead of playing their own shit the usual elivator crap they played Michael Jackson. Every single goddamn store.
I want to set a movie in the summer of '09.
This among other things gave the summer a sort of... well not magical,... but detached feel. It felt unrealistic, removed from real life. It was really really unsettling to me. I mentioned to Diana once this summer (not the princes) that every time I go to new york in a week my entire life in California seems...unreal. seems like something I dreamed up in high feavor, and yet every time I come back new york seems sureal, a dream. I told her I know that when I return to the east that the entire summer will fall apart in my mind and I didn't want that to happen. It has. This summer has become incredibly difficult for me to believe, its something that happoned to someone else, something I made up. And yet... I can't let go of it. I stay up thinking of it at night, destracts me during class. I want this summer back. I was melencholy and detatched and restless through the whole thing but, It was magical. I can't believe it. Did that happen? Am I asleep?
Today is 9/9/09. The Beatles remasters were reliesed today. Every store I walked into had them playing on the radio. Am I asleep?
by Stuart Solomon (forgive me, I have forgoten proper scrip format. In my defence when I took that class I never thought I would ever wright a script. Just direct.)
No establishing shot.
First angle is a medium shot slightly over the sholder of BOY who is sitting on a squat marble (or other stone) wall, eating penne with maranera out of a plastic container. His eyes are just slightly bloodshot or iritated.
After a moment GIRL enters the screen from the left side of the frame carying a notebook and a relatively thing textbook.
Girl (smiles): Hey!
Boy (looks up): Hey. What you up to?
Girl (stops walking for a moment): Um... Not much, heading in.
Boy: Um (he takes a small bite and chews for a beat)... Do you want to go somewhere?
Boy (puts his plastic fork down): Um... I don't know. We could, uh, jump in the fountain at Rockefeller Center or like a dinner downtown. (he looks strained) The.. or, the promenade, uh, Brooklyn Hights, that's always nice.
Girl: Um, well din't you say earlyer...
Boy: Yeah, uh, I have homework. I'll,...like...stay up all night or something...
Girl: Ummmm, alright. But, uh... why?
Boy (shrugs and looks up at her): I'm just in, like, one of those moods.
Girl (bights lower lip softly and looks around): could I... just run and put my stuff down?
Boy: no. Thats not how it works.
Girl: I think... No, I don't, I don't think so. (makes a kind of apologetic face) Sorry!
Jump cut to camera on dolly swiftly circleing to the left. After under a half second cut to the exact same shot that was shown several seconds before (a kind of rewind)
Girl: I think... um, ok. sure.
Boy stands up. They walk twords the campas exit, boy with left hand in his pocket. He throughs away the container of pasta along the way.
This is a fantasy. Why? Because I don't have the corage to ask a girl. Or maybe I do. I think I could pull that together easy I guess if I was indeed in that kind of mood. Why else is it a fantasy? Because no girl would say yes. or even if they did it wouldn't be the same. Nothing goes to scrip. No matter how good of a writer you are, how realisit, nothing goes to scrip. Its all a fantasy. This is not going to happen. I will not jump a subway with some unsuspecting girl and go do something crazy and meaningless and amazing. its just a fucking feel good fantasy.
you see something to cheer about, i'll tell you that its mine.
I can't sleep and in the middle of the night I make side a of a mixtape and I think they don't need to be hard. This can be easy. the next day I make the b side. easy. no more then an hour and a half total time within twenty four hours. easy. Its not as good as the last one but ok. I don't usualy name them but this one I do.
Yes! I am a long way from home. September 2-3, 2009
Dilaudid - The Mountain Goats Yes! I am a long way from home - Mogwai Did You See The Words - Animal Collective Been A Long Time Cousin - Hella How It Ends - DeVotchKa Darts of Pleasure - Franz Ferdinand Is This It? - The Strokes
Satellite Skin - Modest Mouse Kids, We Have Your Back - O! Lucky Man Keep Yourself Warm - Frightened Rabit Only Shallow - My Bloody Valentine Cherry Tulips - Headlights Crazy/Forever - Japandroids Metal Heart - Cat Power this summer, forever
Theres a lyric and for the life of me I can't remember what song or what band wrote it and it goes
"once you see the end its all over"
and that is to say i think that the minnute you start worrying about your childhood ending you will never be a kid again and the second a band trys to recapure the sound they used to have they will never have anything again and the second you can see that if you don't do something your group of friend will fall apart its too late already and the moment you can glimps that light at the end you are already in that light and the minnute you notice in a relationship that something has changed you will never again get to the honneymoon once you see the end its all over
Me and diana had a conversation about the differences between. depression and melancholy and despair and that place past the blues (here) and how my god we each miss being melancholy. melancholy can be cool and feel conforting and romantic and it can be productive with art even though it tends to take over your life, that is comforting for some fucked up reason. Today I am melancholy for the first time in over a year and a half. I'm ok with this but I still feel... you know.
I fear growing old. I fear growing in general. I fear me in two years being a compleatly different person and looking back on this entry and thinking how fucking stupid I was, just like I do now regarding the me of two years ago. I fear the los capmesions line "resigned that our parent's intrests will one day be our own". I don't want my parent's intrests, I want my life to be shitty forever.
All my life I've wanted to be in love. I wanted to consider myself a hopeless romantic. I wanted to sweep some poor girl off her feet and spend my days agonizing over poems for her because that was the only thing I could do to express how I felt though I would know I could never express it right because I am not a good enough poet. I've never been in love. I've never had my heart broken. Any wounds I have suffered have been more or less superficial. I've never even been close. I don't know if I believe in love. Its the last thing I don't know if I believe in. I am through with internal debates about everything else. I don't believe in anyof it else. I want to believe in love but I don't know. I want to be in love but I am not. I wrote an essay in nineth grade about Holden Caulfield and how and how much he was let down by people, and that his dissatisfaction with the world was not because of something inside him some inner termoil but because of one person after another letting him down. I am really bad at writing essays, I was much worse then, but I knew that point and I didn't think anyone else was feeling it, was pulling for holden. He's alright hes just where he was. They thought he was an asshole, hes not. I still feel that. That let down. He was ok. But I don't think Holden will ever go around falling in love either.
I'm feeling like this and I feel detatched. I don't care. "Richard said withdrawl in disgust is not the same as apathy" He's right. I'm not apathetic, but my detachment now is differnt from my resent situation where I am to angry to care. I'm just... you know
melancholy. I'm so glad to be back here again though. Please stay this way please stay this way please stay this way please stay this way
Talking to Diana has shown a light on an odd relization about myself: I don't hate the world anymore, and on top of that I don't hate people anymore. And I guess I should say We don't hate the world anymore because it applys to most of my closest friends aswell. We used to talk about it all the time didn't we? we hated people, in some ways that was who I was, that was a part of my self image, my identity. and now its gone, without notice, from me and from you. and I can't be happier. It is, I suppose, because we forgot about it. it sliped our minds. it ran off in the night while we were sleeping. and yet, the world doen't seem an oppressive place anymore, infact the world seems ours for the taking. that it was put here for us. people don't seem the same way, yeah they're there but so what? who cares? how does it concern us? yeah they talk about us and have things to say about us, but lets give them something to fucking talk about. and it feels like freedom.
I have to remmember always that my life is amazing. And my down days are better then the up days of people I know. and if today seems ugly it is only because its held up to the beauty of my life and the beauty of these people I know. And when I get depressed I have to know that this depression is beautiful and singular. and I must remember this because self pitty is disgusting.
But. I am not content, and I don't want to be content. if I am compleatly ok with what I have I will stay with what I have. I don't want a happy life. I don't want a comfortable life or fullfilling life or a rewarding life. I want a Great life. I want a life to be made in to movies, to be writen about in stream of consciousness books. and that Does mean depression and that does mean failure and loanlyness and all sorts of emotions that I could easily avoid if I chose another way. I Rushmore there a line quoted "When one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself." and I have this opportunity. I got so fucking lucky somewhere along the way. and I don't intend to waist that.
This mix is the most difficult I have ever made, it took much more time and much more thought then any other tape I have ever created. And it took an entire month from start to finnish. But it is compleated now and it is good. Ment to be everything I used to hate, electronic, dancy, unstructured, new.
The thing is... I don't want to talk about music with anyone anymore these days. I've just gotten to the point where I've lost the words to. Yes, it is that important to me and yes, that fact is embarassing but theres nothing I can do about it. I don't feel as though anyone understands, which is not an insult because when I talk about it these days it comes across as if I don't understand so that may be the case with all else aswell. I just don't want to talk about it.
In Daniel Clowes' Ice Heaven there is a scene of a detective talking to a comic book critic. The detective is sceptical of criticism in general, his line of logic going like this: If comic books are indeed an art form then they are trying to express an emotion that cannot be expressed better otherwise, i.e. something that needs the pictures and words to get across and defys words by themselves. How then can you think to explain those using only words? I think its the same with music, if I could explain to you how this music makes me feel then I wouldn't need the music. If I could express it in words then the musical part of it would be unimportant.
I've been thinking about the angst that most people (or most that I know and talk to) experienced in middle school. Almost as soon as its over its viewed in retrospect as imature, self indulgent, ignorant, whiny, ect.. While its going on you look at the older people and think that they don't understand. And now I'm thinking, I don't understand them. They're right about that. And it streches deeper then that. My whole fucking life being a kid I thought adults don't understand our fundemental experience, how we move and view the world, how we think, how we live And I thought, fuck, I am going to hang on to this. I'm not going to forget what it is to be six or eight or ten or thirteen but I have. And I don't understand. And I'm never gonna unerstand. And in four years I'm not going to know what it is to be eighteen and everything now will be immature and self indulgent and I'm never going to understand. Theres a lyric by The Strokes, who have almost embarisingly been one of my most enduring musical obsessions over the last year, that goes See, people they don't understand/No, girlfriends they can't understand/Your grandsons, they won't understand/On top of this I ain't ever gonna understand.
Parker asked me if I had self loathing issues. Fuck. I said I didn't. And I said I didn't because generaly I don't. There was a good amount of time in my life that I had those issues a lot but with a few exceptions (hello febuary) that time has passed. I like who I am these days. I am ok with myself. I am who I want to be, well close to it at least. Making progress. Every couple months I look back, esspecialy using old blog posts, and think of how much of an ideot I was and everytime I do that I feel good because it means I've grone since then. And this is ok.
for the last four or five days I have hated myself. Because I am an asshole when I am with people. And its through making the joking remarks I always make and laughing about them but somehow without me noticeing they have become asshole remarks. These are because I do resent most of my friends and all of my family and this shity house and I do want to go back to new york. And this resentment makes me into an asshole. And worse then that for the last four days I know I am being an asshole wile it is going on but I don't stop and its killing me. I didn't mean for this to happen. And I don't see the solution right now but I do hate myself for it.
I guess if the question is how long I can stand my friends and family in a straight line before the novelty wares off then the answer is one week. I'm trying to remember what I saw in these guys.
Perhaps I'm being harsh, I had a bad day. A bad day. I know that leaving for new york is and was just running away to try to escape my problems instead of facing them, but goddamn, it worked. and I think scraping these problems and these people was the only way for me to move forward. Right now I'm just holding on where I am for three people.
Someone asked me today if I still missed my father. I thought I should get down here my thoughts about that because as per my memory I have never discused my feelings there of with any of my current friends. And, hell, though I'm pretty sure all my friends know now for a long time a good deal of them didn't even know what had happoned to him, leading some of them to ask me about it as if it was some great secret that I might not tell them. Its not a secret. I just honestly don't think about it that much and even when I do its not a topic that comes along in coversation. But lets see if I can get this all out.
My dad was Burt A. Solomon and he lived from January of 1953 until June of 2001. He died of a single unpressedented heart attack. When it happoned he was sitting in his car outside of the theater inside of which me and my sister were rehersing for a play, peter pan. He was helping out back stage but had some time off between run throughs. He drove to get fast food for lunch and then parked his car to sit for a bit and play gameboy. I had introduced him to gameboy a few years before and he took to it during his train commutes to work until he soon surpassed me in many games. He was never hospitalized, had never had previous heart attacks, he was never in any pain, just here one minnute and gone the next.
How do I feel about this? Sad? yeah, but not that much. And it seems like many people are surprised to here this, that my spirits don't spontaniously drop when the subject is brought up, but instead I brush it aside and continue on with the conversation. But the thing is, I greived for him. I mean I GREIVED for him. For the next two years of my life it hung over my head constantly. To be honest, though I have a strong recolection of that entire general time, I have verry little idea what happoned for the rest of that summer. I was in a daze. It was surreal. To be that sad all the time was almost rediculous but I didn't understand how I could be happeir tomorrow then I was now if tomorrow my dad was still gone. But of course my life went on and school strted and such (a horrificly bad year for all sorts of other reasons) and I wasn't sad all the time anymore but it was still there. Still going on for me. My mom was verry clear that we had to feel this. That what we were going through should not be swept under the table or covered up. So I cried a lot. And I talked about it a lot. And I think that helped me a lot.
After thouse years passed I started to try to idealize him in my mind. Not because I felt there was any truth in that but I felt that it was the norm, for a boy to idealize his dead father, and I felt that adults expected it of me. I didn't sit and think this out obviously, it wasn't compleatly consious. Despite this I was never actualy able to idealize him in my mind. I knew my dad pretty well, probably better then most kids really know their fathers at that point in there lives, and because of that I knew him for a human being and was not able to think of him as anywhere near perfect.
And so, I don't know, I don't think about it that much. It doesn't occure to me to think about that much. I still miss him, but I miss him like I miss other things from that time. Like I miss my fourth grade intreations with my friends, like I miss being so short that the world seems like a never ending maze. But theres just not the forbearing sadness there once was, and thats good. I think his death has had an impact on me, but what had a greater impact was him and his generaly fatherly influence on me and then the sudden lack there of more then the shock and saddness of his passing. I'm not the same person I was then, not even remotely. I don't aspire to be my dad or be even close to what he was, except in a verry few aspects. And really, why I don't bring it up is because this seems out of the ordenary for people, and it takes too long to explain adequetly why I'm so ok with it. Its kind of strange, the whole time I was sad about it I just DID NOT want to talk to anyone about it. Every one was always asking me if I needed to talk about it and I just wanted them to go away, to shut up. Now I don't care to talk about it for a compleatly different reason. And thats all I have to say right now.
and maybe I'm just mithoulogizing it or maybe its the truth and I'm just realizing it after this year has passed but there were these moments with people that it would be late at night and we'd be talking because I almost feel as though I did verry little that summer though all the hanging out except talk and there'd just be this second long where I'd have this feeling like this is it like it was comming together and I knew this person and I knew that they were my friend and that they were going to be my friend forever that we were bound together now and this was kind of a real intence thing for me a real personal deep moment I felt like Sal to Dean in On The Road that no matter how much of a jack ass dean is and no matter how much he fucks up his life and thouse around him because of how much they have gone through together and all the times they've had sal is bound to him and not in a bad way but they had the feeling that they were in this together well I had that feeling a lot last summer with a lot of people more then I thought I would have people who I looked down on or even thought were jackasses I felt intence link to and maybe thats one of the reasons the ten days in november felt so queer that I could see these people after having not talked to most of them since I left and it still be there do you know I feel me and richard are in it to the end that when I see him ten fifteen years from now we will still have that moment when we look each other in the eye and know that yes we are friends its odd not to say this happoned with all my friends but a lot and I just had sometimes this weird utopian feeling this I could do this forever just keep going and just staying up all night talking running back and forth drinking coffee and jamba juice making plans and not keeping them
and maybe it was emotions I had to have because I was leaving
Jackie said somthing last week about feeling like her old friends and not being able to relate because they were almost still stuck in high school and I see that when looking at her old friends and with some of mine (who are both literaly and mentialy stuck in high school) but I do also think I made better friends who maybe dont seem as intresting and maybe aren't as intresting but are so fucking human and unafraid that even through my ocastional looking down on them I don't think they're going to stop moving and even though next year I will meet lots of people who will also become eventualy linked to me in this way people who will be more intresting and more artistic and more adventureous and deep and intence then say aidan or richard or josh I doubt I'll ever think I've moved passed them in anything more then superficial ways
This is hard to see not really knowing them. The do look like ideots when you just know them a little bit. They aren't though
I want this summer to be like last except bigger more and more intresting and more artistic and more everything to kick start again the best fucking years of my life which will be better years then most people get to experience ever and to last for ever and ever and ever
Why have my last few posts sucked? Well. Its because right now I am happy, or at least genearaly content. The wether is nice, the sun is shining, and I am just enjoying things. This leads to much less interesting thoughts going through my head. In the beginging of Trainspotting he talks about when your addicted to heroin you only have one thing to worry about, scoring more heroin. When your off it you have all sorts of things to worry about. Your debt, your job, you family, your love life, so on so on. I almost feel that way about my happyness. When I am down there are all kinds of things I get upset over. All sorts of injustices, and sorts of things wrong with the world and myself and other people that my mind clings to. When I am up swing those things are still there and still worthy of getting upset over only I am just concerned with my happyness. Not that thats a bad thing, but I often feel that I find myself less intresting on the up and thus more inane posts here. But whatever. I am happy. Life is good. Fuck all else.
The first track of M83's Dead Cities, Red Seas, & Lost Ghosts album is called birds. It starts with a robotic female voice saying "Sun Is Shining, Birds Are Singing, Flowers Are Growing, Flowers Are Growing And I Am Flying" and then it says it again and then again and again as distorted electronic sounds build in the background until you can feel the voice shouting over them even though you know its not shouting over them its just an affectless voice with no varience. SUN IS SHINING, BIRDS ARE SINGING......
Here's a song who's lyrics I jotted down I don't know how long ago exactly that I just dug up.
Jodi says she's crying
But I don't believe it for one beat of her godforsaken heart
Jodi says she's dieing
Yeah I would take it all away but I just don't know where to start
If I slid right away from here
You know this time there'd be nothing and just all I'd miss is you
And you are nothing And all you mean is nothing
Take your laugh and your paste and all the sorry words that just never did come true
Jodi says she loves me
But I think by now she know that she is not IS NOT fooling anyone
And if there is a god above me
I'll laugh if he can tell me what I'm supposed to learn from this one
When I slide away from here
All my thoughts and my fucking logic will unfold and start anew
But you're inane! Your callous fucking games
Lose the lies that made you because the ink is starting to show through
I'm told I have a distinct walk. Not that its a compliment or anything, most people have distinct walks, I sometimes think I could pick out silloettes of my friends just based on their walks. But ever since I was told that I have been trying to notice how I walk. But I can't. Because everytime FUCK YOU STEREO RECIEVER because everytime I try to pay attention to it I start walking differently. The moment I start to notice how I walk I cant do my walk anymore. Its one of thouse things I think you have to catch out of the corner of you eye, so to speak. To notice compleatly by accedant. There are a lot of things about ones self like that and it bugs the hell out of me.
I've been digging this site for a few weeks now:http://butdoesitfloat.com/. I think its been up for about a month with new posts showcasing a different artist almost every day. Amazing stuff.
That shit sounds like a drum kit being thrown down the stairs
If it seems like I hate you it is because I hate you. I HATE YOU I hate you and I want you dead. I'm just getting this feeling that everyone has let me down. And that statement sucks because it makes it seem as if I hold my self up high and think evryone else has not lived up to my level but thats not how I ment the statement to read. I don't mean to sound like I think of myself as supirior. I don't. thats not compleatly true. I am an arogent prick. I do think I am better then most people. But I don't think I am better then these who have let me down. You have let me down. ethan has let me down. parker has let me down. Travis who I don't even fucking know has let me down. My mom has let me down. Both my sisters as well. If I am honest I truly hate Joy. And I want you to be dead. And I can't fucking sleep.
Hissing Fauna Are You The Destroyer? Where dose that take me? Last May in the bart train with Adrian "Ana says of Montreal aren't psychedelic, but they totally are!" and Travis "Maybe I'll just run away to Athens Georgia and join the Elephant Six collective" and I didn't know what the elephant 6 was. Me and Ethan walking off of Telegraph Ave. him explaining to me in one of those wide eye'd 'I cant put to words how much this music means and how much it means' how The Past Is A Grotesque Animal was a man hating himself because of how stuck he was in intense love for his wife "its embarrassing to need someone like I need you". Something I herd Maxine say to Parker or someone told me she said in early september "I can't listen to of Montreal anymore because your not here". Walking up seventh ave into Chelsey looking for a photo specialty shop listening to the Ethan curated Strawberry Jam/one song Poison Control Center/A brief introduction to of Montreal cd going away present that typified my early week and two in the city here The Past Is... and clutching on to the ''things could be different but their not!". But that was nine months ago when I was a different person. In the first few month when I was so fucking small and scared and lying to myself and everyone at home and despaired about the girl. Stuart as Strawberry Jam/of Montreal introduction period. And now I at the peak of my arrogance I-don't-give-a-shit fueled super confidence everything I was not with Strawberry Jam instead being in full swing Stuart as Experimental/Noise/Brit Pop/burn the past/bitterness/insomnia/"I hope you die, I HOPE WE BOTH DIE" period. and I finally bite my fucking tongue and let go my doubts and buy Are You The Destroyer an even year after my friends jumped into it because I found it for two dollars on a record label garage sale. and its everything. and this time I clutch on to instead "we want our films to be beautiful, not realistic" "Let's just have some fun
Let's tear this shit apart
Let's tear the fucking house apart
Let's tear our fucking bodies apart
but Let's just have some fun"
...let's And if anything its made me hate Barnes more. His hedonistic over grandiose self indulgent self important white horse bull shit as he threw momentum all away on the next record. I lost that going away present cd in november and I don't know where Animal Collective now stands in my mind. I have not talked to Ethan in Months. I don't remember the last time I was in Chelsey. and don't get me started about the girl. but some how this is mine again. Its embarrassing to need someone like...
[this has also been posted at styrofoam boots but I thought it deserved to be here as well]
as much as I love such great heights, and I really do love such great hights the postal services version even more then iron & wines, their best song will always be the track before it. the district sleeps alone tonight I guess is about a man out of place. across the country from home finding himself in dc house sitting. and he gets his instructions and he tells the friends visiting that no the owner isn't here and I'm just house sitting I'm just temporary but hes not paying antention to any of it at all becasue his mind is preocupied thinking about the floor beneath him and the soil of the district underneath and he think the only thing keeping him dry the only thing keeping him afloat from breaking down under the pressure of overwhelm of the new place so fucking out of context is where he is. is for the city and all its wonder. today it rained real hard and I was walking around the financial district because I realized how manny places I hadn't been and was still left to see and I found myself in battery park looking out standing on the coast of the hudson watching the ferrys and the sea floating up and down and the small round waves crash against the shore and the buildings in brooklyn and over there right in front of me was the statue of liberty getting blanketed like the rest of us by the fog and the rain. and I am getting soaked to death but I'm not paying attention becasue it seemed so out of context and I was here and there are so manny people and I still don't know one of them but this is my city and it is always here and even though I was so fucking wet I felt the only thing keeping me dry is where I am.
give the boys some chemicals i want to run with you
My stereo system broke all at the same time. The pre-amp on my receiver died 100%, I replaced it for $25 and the new one now started turning itself off all the time. The left ear of my headphones stooped playing all together unless you contort the wire in just the right position and hold it there completely unmoving. The headband near the left side suffered a break as well so now the left ear falls off occasionally. The right phone has started cutting out now and then too. The input of my practice amp is in the proses of breaking and ever second time I plug in it doesn't work. The ground wire on my turntable seems to have severed irreparably. My cd player's spring broke a long long time ago but now the input is shaky as well. Also it keeps convincing itself it's open in the middle of songs and so it re-reads the disk and starts the album from the beginning. The pad fell off the front of my right speaker. A hinge disintegrated on my acoustic guitar's case over a month ago but I am too cheep to get it fixed and instead covered it with gaffers tape. Stuart just wants to listen to music. I just want to listen to music. I feel like i'm going to throw up.
i mean, no one ever actually asked him to forsake his dreams
In eighth and ninth grade I was an un ashamed rockist and retroist and somehow in the last four years I have shed that. I have shed that to the point of hating rockism and retroism. I have shed that to the point of almost being embarassed to be listeing to the white stripes because they are to a certain extent rockists. They are also retroists but not in the "it was all better then there is no hope for today" way more in the "I hate everything around me" way so thats ok. And I'm wondering how I got to this point and I think I can link the start of it to one song. Jackie used to keep it in high rotation my sophmore year its called "I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair". My least favorite song in existance. Not the worst song but my least favorite. I was emidiatly repelled by it and wasn't exactly sure why. since then I have been finding reasons, reasons that were always there I just didn't have the words to say them exactly.
The first one that hit me right away was that punk rockers did not have flowers in their hair. The ovious one. Punk rocks stated goal was to get rid of all hippie music and all hippies. Flowers were out. It was probably a good way to get your ass kicked in '77. Took another week or two before I came up with the second. Its a myth. What the song is descibing never happoned and wishing for something that never happoned seemed pretty bleak to me.
A bit of time passed between me writing the last paragraph and starting this one. Because of that I can't say I'm sure what I was planing to write next. So I'll just get to the gist of it.
A few weeks ago I saw Pete Townshend interviewed on some Who documentry. He mentioned something about haveing been young people making music for young people and how that doesn't really happon anymore or something like that. My head went imediatly to 'Shouldn't you be dead?'. In referance, of course, to one of the best lines Mr. Townshend ever wrote "I hope I die before I get old". I have found myslef incredably hostile twords anyone who looks on the past as better. And I have become almost disgusted at all things sixtys and seventys.
The first reason is this: There is some philosophy (or maybe its just in fight club?) that talks about Kill your parents, Kill your idols, Kill your teacher. They don't mean actualy kill, but instead let go of, or think of in descrase in your mind. Because as long as you hold them above you you are stifled below them. Some times I hear this with Kill your god and Kill yourself (meaning your ego) in the place of the second two but you get the point. I killed my idolization of my parents I don't know how long ago. A hundred years. I killed my god in the last year and a half as documented on this blog. And I never had a teacher or mentor to look up too. The sixtys and seventys were my idols. And I couldn't be free wile holding on to them. Why is it that Radiohead still makes good music wile Oasis hasn't since, say, 1996? Didn't the two bands form at the same time? Its because Oasis holds the mid nindys in such high regard and wants to be back there, Radiohead just wants to get to tomorrow. Oasis has that idol hovering above them. Pete Townshend has the mid sixtys.
The other stems from a line in a minor threat song. "you better be happy with what you got, you'll never get anymore." in referance to a five foot four guy who starts fights because of his insecuritys with his hight. Its something adults tell you since you were four. Funny how I never got it until I herd it from Ian McKaye's mouth. Being five foot four I'm sure sucks. I haven't measured myself in about a year but I think I clock in around 5'8" and that sucks as well. But I am going to be this way for the rest of my life so I sure as hell better start thinking its the best anyway. I will never be six feet tall. I will never spend one fucking second of my life in the sixtys. Hell, I was alive in the nindys but I will never see one second of it ever ever again. I don't really believe it was better as no one I really respect has ever said it was, but even if it was better it means fuck all and you best start believing this is the best. because there is too little fucking time to spend it worrying about missing out on the best. So I don't fucking care. This is the best time to be alive of all time. There was never a better moment in history before right this fucking second. and in a few years when we rule the world its going to be even better.
Saturday was amazing. Just because of the music I got. I'm in a daze. There seems to be this perception these days that the time of great movements in music is over. If nothing else these records prove them wrong. They should be held aloft next to all the classics. Hell, Los Campesinos! alone are threatening to change my life.
Yesterday I think I made the best mix tape I have ever created. Click the links, check it out.
1. Jóga - Björk 2. Rhode Kill - The Velvet Teen 3. Penny Dreadfuls - Avey Tare and Panda Bear 4. Airbag - Radiohead 5. Woke Up Alone - Ryland Bouchard 6. Yellocake - Kaki King 7. Silence - Portishead
1. No Pussy Blues - Grinderman 2. Race: In - Battles 3. Sarcofago Live - The Mountain Goats 4. Seductive Barry - Pulp 5. Dark Center of the Universe - Modest Mouse 6. We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed - Los Campesinos!
Jackie posted This Is Just To Say on her blog a little wile ago and goddamn I havn't herd that poem in a wile the first time I herd it was in elementary school and it was just a cute thing and I've read some double you see double you recently because of his connections with the beats and letters of incoragement back and forth with Allen Ginsburg in the back of the eddition on Howl I took out from the library a couple months ago but some how I haden't come across that poem again and I read Jackie's post and its amazing and I didn't know what to say sure its cute still and very funny that he would wright that sure but just so crisp so so I don't know I suck at words to explain art all I say is 'I don't Know' all the time but that poem blew me away so sweet so cold so sweet so
This morning I had about two hours to kill before zero hour for busking and its not enough time to watch a movie and the only book I had out from the library was poetry and I was a bit burt out on poetry cause I've been working my way through Dylan Thomas and... whatever anyway I downloaded the most resent podcast of This American Life because Jackie has talked about it a lot and I read a peice about it in the AV Club and I wanted to check it out and at the end there is the poem again and it again was compleatly sublime and then a bunch of parodys after some of which were also so so brillient this is just to say and I guess thats where Jackie herd it too
Basicly I just miss Jackie. So much. Adrian for some reason I can talk to on the phone and thats ok and I don't miss him and all my other friends are, you know, all my other friends. I would go to hell and back for them but right now I have so much art I don't have time to miss them I guess. Too much to do. But with Jackie talking on the phone sucks. It doesn't suck, I mean I enjoy talking to her, but its not enough because it doesn't for some reason stop me from missing here. I'm so glad she's working at the Cafe again on saturdays because that was my day to come in to sit around and sip tea there.
The fourth paragraph goes like this: I don't usualy write things about events and plans I have with people outside of the ones that read this blog. Which is to say that this is not a diary, its a place for me to record and work through my thoughts. But...
The first thing I am doing when I get home, after eating a burrito, is calling Diana and telling her that she is comming on a date with me at Cafeina the next morning. Because breakfast there on a sunny day is the ideal first date in my mind. And also because I know its now become final that she is not going to New York for college next year which she is upset about but if I can't be with her in a more permanant time period at least I can be with her for just the summer and I don't think I could stand being in the same state with her and being seperate. I am writing this here so if Jackie is working that day (I kind of hope shes not, sory) she isn't just finding out about this. If she were just finding out about it she would get all excited for me and make me turn bright red and I don't want that to happen right then.
The next day or so I'll go back to Cafeina and ask if they're hiring.
Most of the Mountain Goat's recorded output (and almost everything for the first decade of their existence) is recorded on a standard department store boom box. The point was immediacy, a song was conceived, it was recorded, it never was recorded again. If it wasn't recorded it was forgotten in a few days. I was kind of inspired. I ran the mic from a hand held mini cassette recorder through my standard cassette deck and recorded an acoustic noise version of the Mountain Goats "No Children" (even though thats one of their songs that isn't actually recorded on the boom box) and then I pressed record again and in one take improvised a guitar part, vocal melody, and lyrics to a song. Because I don't know what note I'm going to sing next the vocals are a bit wavery and it probably could be done a bit better if I re-recorded it but I think that would take away the intensity. Anyway, click the links below to hear them.
I just had an epiphany. Sort of. Well, it was an sudden break through but about something almost completely inconsequential.
About nine months ago me and Chris Jones had a conversation about bands' fan bases. It came up when he got on Radiohead's case by dissing their fans. ("seriousness is not the same as intelligence no matter what virginal Radiohead fans say") and I said, yeah, I love Radiohead but I don't like most Radiohead fans I meet. The ones twenty five and older tend to be pissed off about kid a, which I don't understand at all. Was kid a really that unsettling? Its seems like a fairly normal album to me. Albeit a good one. The ones younger then twenty five are either hipsters or mainstream music listeners who I have no idea what they're doing around Radiohead or, yes, the virginal ultra-serious type. Of course there are always people I meet who likeRadiohead and are cool but generally I would bet against it. If we were to take guesses on weather I would get along with someone or not based purely on they're list of favorite bands, seeing Radiohead would not be a good sign to me.
So me and CJ started thinking, what would be a good sign? A band who's fan base was cool more often then not. I couldn't think of anything. Chris mentioned the Velvet Underground and I guess that's pretty accurate. In the months in between then and now this question has stuck in the back of my mind and I've pulled a few others out. Cap'n Jazz, Owls, Dirty Projectors, its a little bit hard for me to imagine too many idiots like these bands but still all of these still didn't quite do it for me and so the question still hung around the back of my mind.
Today I came up with a solution. Nirvana. Perhaps it was just in Albany but Nirvana is stuck in a weird place. They were so intensely popular with the generation directly preceding us and they strike a chord with almost every middle schooler to the extent that they become the epitome of uncool to the casual fan. As per the intense fan, they're hard enough that the indie pop crowd sees it as testosterone fueled bull shit and they're soft enough that the metal and punk crowd sees everything post-Bleach as commercialized sentimental crap. Which leaves the only people who would openly declare a love for Nirvana as being ones who didn't care about all that crap, and who could see Nirvana's unquestionable brilliance, and who didn't mind being considered the definition of uncool by all parties involved. I guess it also leaves the middle school crowd... and those still have not broken free of the middle school state of mind... but still. Its hard for me to imagine anyone over 15 with a unapologetic love for Nirvana being someone I couldn't respect.
You see? This is an epiphany to me these days. Its fucking meaningless.
my favorite cd player broke in december. the one I use now has a weeker preamp. my headphones have lower then standard sensitivity. I like siting on the floor of my apartment listening to music because its the only way I can turn it up until my ears hurt.
yesterday, or maybe the day before, or maybe the day before that. It could have been anytime really... I couldn't sleep but I was really trying but I had this song lyric that shot into my head and I opened my eyes to find they had ajusted enough so I could see what I was writing just by the pail light that came from the street lamps coming in through the crack between the end of my curtain and the end of the window. and in a daze I stumble for a pen and my notebook and I scribble it down and then I stop dead. The light glansing off the edge of the paper and spilling on to my hand as if it was water was... it was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time. and I just sit there. and I look at it. and I look and my camera it just out of arms reach. and it has no film in it anyway. and there was not enough light to begin with. and if I used the flash it would ruin it all. so that meant the moment I moved my hand or my body this would be gone. I will be the only one who ever sees this. and the once I moved I would never see it again. and I liked that somehow. and I sat there for a half hour staring at the edge of the paper and my hand holding it. and then I got up to get a glass of water. and no one will ever see that again.
that I must above all things love myself/that I must above all things love myself/that I must above all things love myself
yes I am going to continue to write posts about music in specifics until my blood shot eyes obssesiveness dies down. Right now I hope it never dies down. But I Think it will. just what I think
I barly know the Manic Street Preachers for music. This is because cheep used copies of either Generation Terrorists and The Holy Bible in the United States are, as far as I'm concerned, non-existant. But I love them. Mostly for their concepts. Relese one record. Pakage it in a sandpaper sleave. Sell more copies then Apitite For Destruction. Through it all away. One album. Then brake up the band. The sandpaper will destroy not only the records stored next to it, but also the record inside the sleaves. If everything went corectly they would gain a mass folowing and in a years time there would be no trace of their existance at all.
They were lieing. It was always kind of the point. Don't you get it? That was always kind of the point.
I love them because Richey James Edwards probably did nothing musicaly for the band exept write some of the lyrics and pretend to play guitar, or other times not even pretend to play guitar. I love that when a reporter questioned their authenticity he took a knife and carved 4real into his arm and had to be rushed to the hospital. I love that richey was the messia to a lot of people. I love "We will always hate Slowdive more than Hitler". I love everything about their ideals and the fact that they were never going to stick by them and the fact that they knew that from day one. I love how one day Richey left or killed himself because it seems like that was the only apropriate thing for him to do.
Keiron Gillen said to just go buy a copy of "No Children" and listen to it 40 times a day 80 times a day if your at the terminal point in a rellation ship. But Keiron Gillen says a lot of things. I mean, ok, he is the reason I know about the Manics in the first place and, yes, I do bace my music jornalist aproach on a manefesto for video game jornalism of all things he wrote a few years ago and, sure, the whole reason I'm in this obssesive state can be tacked back to being all his fault. But still. There is nothing redeaming about Take That and Radiohead is brillient any way you slice it. But...
I listened to "No Children" 40 times today.
I'm going to listen to it 40 times tomorrow probably.
and maybe the next day.
do you self a favor. or maybe it might not be a favor but whatever. Listen to it. It should start playing when you load this page. scroll up on the playlist and play it again.
I hope you die! I hope we both die!
I want to shout that from the mountain tops. I want that to be the words on my toumb stone. I this song to narrorate my life for ever. I want to shout that from the mountain tops! I HOPE YOU DIE! I HOPE WE BOTH DIE! Goddamn!
just listen to the fucking lyrics of that song please.
in my life I hope I lie and tell everyone that you were a good wife
I am obssesed with britpop. Not obssesed like... well I use that word a lot. Usualy I use it to mean I'm passionate about something. I am obssesed with the hitchhikers guide to the galexy, that kind of thing. With Jack Keroack's On The Road, with Portishead's most resent. But I'm obssesed with this actualy. Like I was for two weeks about easter island in fourth grade, like with The Beatles for a month in eighth. Like I stay up at night because I'm thinking about movents in pop music culture. About voids and bands filling it. About Dionysus and Apollo the pros and cons of narcissism, radiohead or blur or suede or oasis. About weather to be what Nirvana wanted to be or what he became and why he killed himself. About "John and I littearly used to sit down and say, 'Now, let's write a swimming pool.'" About movements like watter in the underground and the mainstreem. About no one likes the Arcade Fire about how no one takes the Shins seriously. About Jarvis Cocker who is not Jesus but has the same initials and seems like the only actual human in the whole fucking world
I am a man of Apollo. I've always taken pride in that but its not something I created. Its my base instinct. Its what I snap back to in times of stress no matter what. My older sister is basicly of Dionysus in the same way. Thats why I have chosen the underground over the world of pop why I have chosen post-punk over new wave over metal bangers not anthems blur over oasis pulp over all. Individual over comunity. Grunge over Britpop. And all I've wanted to be for these years was an undergrond sucsess. I wanted to be Pere Ubu, not The Clash. I wanted to be The Velvet Underground, not The Rolling Stones. I wanted to be Bob Dylan, not the Beatles.
But now I want to be better then the Beatles.
Now I want to be Suede, I want to be Oasis. I want to live for today and delude myself that today is what there is. I want to love myself and the people around me because they're good enough so I'm gonna goddamn pretend we are perfect. I want to ware two thoulsand dollar suits and smash my guitar into my amp every goddamn nice. I want to take it as far as I can and make sure I end with enough money to buy a good pair of shoes for my funeral. I want music you get caught up in compleatly. I want to set fire to the graves of every band that ever played a note of progressive rock. Because this is my life man, this is MY LIFE. This is all I have. I don't get to look back after I've gone and say 'well that man did a good job of sticking to his pricipals and is a good example for the next generation'. I don't give a fuck about the next generation. If the world falls apart a year after I passed, well, its sure as hell better then it falling apart a year before I go. I want to look out across manhattan as I cross that bridge and I know that it is my kingdom. I want to fucking live forever. I want TO FUCKING LIVE FOREVER.
maybe i just want to breath maybe i just dont believe
I see a lot of adds everyday. Everyone does. Thats ok. They keep my subway cost down and my television free. The worst add in the world is a print add in subway cars sometimes. Its for housing in a building in brooklyn heights with a great view over the river to manhattan. I walk along the proanade there sometimes when I need to get my head clear or do some art so I can tell you its beautiful. The add states "The New Defenition Of View" and that you can obtain one of these condos for as little as $400,000. This is all dandy. I don't like the gentrification of the heights. I mean Bob Dylan used to live with them just a few blocks away from this new building on Montague Street in the basement down the stairs. There was music in the streets at night and revolution was in the air. But thats all mostly done I am thirty years late. And everywhere is gentrified what can you do? The other thing it says is "It Defines You Well". That slogan is on every add for this place. The other changes per add I think. It defines you well. fuck. how does your fucking apartment define you. my apartment says I'm a slob. it says I'm a slum dweller with no taste. perhaps I should have chosen a place with a better view. Fuck you. The lifestyle product is prbably the epitome of evil in my mind. These slacks say your easy going but serious when you need to be. This flannel, when worn with big glasses, says that you listen to TV On The Radio and are cooler then everone else. This Hendrix T and battered lether jacket says I'm going to be saying a lot of things about not makin em like this anymore. Its great. It takes away your responcibility to actualy just be easy going or cool or to know why TV On The Radio are brillient. Why should you even care? when you can get people to think that you are all those things. Why should you even care when you get to cast off someone without giving them a chance. You should try it sometime. Its lots of fun. Why get an actual personality? Who needs them? It s compacting people. Send your taylored suit to the interview, bring in a picture of your view for your resume. Because they should know everything they need to know about you from just that. Have you ever stoped to think how buying that product will define you?
Noone should go to good musiams with other people. Or at least they should change the way they do it. The conversations I hear make me want to jump out the window. Oh I like his use of the brown here, wow look at these brush strokes, isn't it elegant the way he curves this plane, well its really his choice of colors that tell you something, ah but you must think of the cultural implications surounding this peice. FUCK YOU. Hundreds of people stand around the floors of that museam every single day pretending they know about the art on the wall. Whats so terrible is not that they don't know a thing, its that that kind of knowledge is irrelevent. Thats not what you should be after. Its looking at a book and saying "ah, you see the literary devices here used to make you feel euforic? Aha, thats quite clever and enjoyable" instead of reading the passage and feeling euforic. You need to look at these paintings and feel and take them in and be absorbed by them. Don't fucking look at how it works. How it works is irrelevent. Its like taking apart a computer to try to see how a word prosseser works instead of typing with it. You are killing art. You already killed jazz. And I hate you for it.
I think comic books are one of the last vital underground medium, well maybe dance aswell but I'm not all that interested though check out the Lines Ballet - ridiculous. Its so alive for two reasons. Firstly because no one cares about it. Its considered by and large to be an inferior medium or one that just contains pulp. This is based for the most part in fact. The majority of its readership even are either looking for more masculine soap operas or for the kind of bs you would find in fan fictions or b movies. Even the few good comics that get brought into the main stream (all of them by movies) such as watchmen or sin city perpetuate the notion that they only are good for superheros or action. The second reason is that, unlike visual art or photography, it has the ability to be widely distributed in its intended format for an affordable price, and also the ability to circulate on the internet without very much loss of intent. Its brilliant. I think there are so many amazing things that can be done, and are being done, with comics. I know I've read significantly less comics then novels over the last year and yet the comics I did read hit me much harder. Really right now I'm just excited over the second volume of phonogram that has started coming out in issues. The first trade collection of it affected me more then any book at all I read over the last year (well, maybe not on the road). Are there contemporary underground novels even being written? Perhaps I just don't have an in to them. I got introduced to indie comics by chris jones and to underground music by chancing upon tiny mix tapes so maybe there is a grand indie lit scene but I don't think so. Also I just love the freeness of comics. Why describe something when you can show it? And why show something when you can suggest it? Theres so much to think about as to the format of each page or to how each thing is drawn, its just amazing. I've been rambling havent I?
My sleeplessness has lapsed from a cronicly upset sleeping pattern into genuine insomnia. I didn't sleep suday night and I didn't sleep last night making it two all nighters with one night of sleep in between. Its rediculous. I don't know what to do about it. Besides taking an effect on my health and mental well being it also afects my earnings as my vocals are shot one days where I haven't gotten sleep and the following day I tend to be to tired to do much of anything at all. Besides, no one wants to drop monney in the case of a kid with bright red eyes and huge bags underneath. Fuck.
This is a weird thing to shove in the same post as it is compleatly unrelated. I've finaly droped my stance on drugs. Which is to say I've gotten so pissed off at everything that I just don't care anymore. How can pot be more fucked up and ilusionary then what I'm doing to my self anyway? Really all my old thoughts stand but I just don't care anymore. and I doubt that I'll ever do it with my theater friends because it just seems so fucking mundain with them, so fucking boring and self indulgent. Still I want to try everything, I want to experience it all and maybe see how close to bottoming out I can get.