Dub Housing

I'm so tired about the 'what is art' debate. Mostly I'm tired of people saying 'thats not art'. Or of people being overly modest/unambitious by saying 'well, its not art or anything. Its just this thing I did'. Fuck it. Duchamp and his toilate are art. You might not think its good art and thats ok but saying its not art is just bullshit. Thouse drawings you made are art. Don't coward out by saying they're just some unimortant doodles. And stop fuckin worrying about if your art is bad. I'm mean, of course it is if you just started. That doesn't mean you don't have tallent or anything.

anyway, may I present Wassily Kandinsky. I know hes hardly an obscure discovery but I just found his work and its amazing.

how we idolize, theorize, syllogize in the dark, in the heart

Dr. Glass

My possible essay to aply for the honers program at SVA. The promt was "Why Art" in 500 words or less.

Nietzsche said "We have art in order not to die of the truth". That's something to think about. I think without art we would die of the world in front of us, yes. But who says that's the truth? Does anyone ever tell you the truth? Maybe in rare occasions when you know them very well and its a warm cozy night something will come out that they really mean. But, shit, for the most part we just lie and tell half truths all the goddamn time. Nietzshe would know that better then anyone. Anyway Nietzshe did die of truth. Went insane of it, anyway. Art is the only truth I think. I have cousins and they're not white trash per say and they're not rednecks or any of that, I mean for god sakes they were raised and born in California. What they are is artless. They just don't get it. They just don't get it and thus they are doomed to walk in small meaningless circles for the rest of they're goddamn life. That's its. They've died of truthlessness. Art is the only truth. The only truth is those conversations late at night with Emma and Keeley and Olivia. That's it. The only truth is dancing to arctic monkeys with Adrian at their concert. The only truth is playing video games with Ethan. I don't know. There is no truth. This is all a goddamn lie. We lie so we don't die of truth. So I don't just fucking lay down and die right now. I feel like it. Elliott Smith died of his music. Was there any truth in that? Its all crap. We need art because we need it. We do. We can say these things but they're meaningless. Art is not the truth. We know that. Its just pictures and sound and words. Its not real. But art is not a lie! And it sure as hell does not protect one from the truth. I don't have an explanation for you. I can't tell you why we need it. I have some ideas as to. Well mostly I have feelings as to why but they aren't necessarily the reason and I can't word them even if they were. We just need art. We just need it and that's why. There's just nothing else. Art is all. Art for the sake of living I guess. Art is running around with Simka. Art is watching the Lion King with Jackie when she was sick. Art is. I don't know. Art is so much goddamn feed back that you can't distinguish the words. Art is Kurt Cobain singing 'I hate myself I want to die'. Art is everything in this goddamn world I don't know what else. Art is bullshitting with Benji. Art is poking fun at Ulysses until his face turns red. Art is coffee at Starbucks at midnight with Aidan. Art is I don't goddamn know. I don't goddamn know. Its nothing at all.

so manny useless bodies

A Fever Analog

I way to shaken by the silver jews spliting up. A band I got into about a month ago because I had herd the name spoken with prase and saw a cd of theirs on the shelf at the library and thought why not? Two weeks later they anounse their retirement from music and on the last day of january they played their last show. And somehow I'm devestated. Its all I've thought about for two days. The silver jews split up, man. They will never make more music. Or if they do its going to be the standard reunion crap. the standard reunion crap. Its never going to be the same. the silver jews split up. the guys a goddamn poet, not like issac brock or bob dylan but like poet poet. like I could imagine him on papper blowing my mind and hes done. heeeeeessssssssssssssssssssss doooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnne

if the room started spining. I'd leave

Shaking Hell

I only get nihilistic fits of rage when I'm alone. the surpressed passionate fury against everything I think and see and taste and am and know that I'm often trying to convay here. to be fare though I only get the passionate feeling of love for art and longing for all I see and taste and hear and am when I'm alone aswell. I used to consider this the real me, more intrisic to who I am then my lighter persona around other people, and I used to be almost mad at myself, thinking me a coward for not showing it around others. no, its not the real me, fuck that. I mean it is but how I act around you is too to the same level. being nihilistic around other people is self indulgent and cheep and not asimaler to someone who always has low self asteem around others. anyway friends keep distracted delving into the conversation or having fun and whats wrong with that? I can feel the passion in either direction on this blog but when I interact, talking to you is more important then the feelings I have about everything. I'm toned down because your awesome and I like you.

come closer and I'll tell you

There is a Place

its weird talking to friends from the theater or midrasha cliques at home. I'm still frends with them and in many ways how we talk and how we think of each other on a personal level are the same. But the group is gone. Its splintered and its rotted away. where there once was this joy in the group being together there is nothing. Theres been some kind of integral change in the way we look at each other, we've become on a close level astranged. Everyone always seems sort of tired. I think of people at high school reunions seeing old friends that they still feel afection for but just don't have anything to say to them. We're reaching that point and I'm the only one gone.

I saw gods shadow on this world
I saw god's shadow on this world!

N.I.T.A.

I seem to have found my lyrics once more. I shall now chain them up so they never escape again.


I get distracted again
I let myself distracted again
I let myself slip off once again
I'll never do it again

You start to trying I know
You can't stop dieing I know
You don't stop facing it and placing it outside
You'll never

And I want
The silver slips that take all you
Apart
The festival the liquor and the
Darts
You come tell me when it starts to fall
Apart

You can't love me and give that complaint
Stark naked and god I need restraint
It isn't all for nothing
It isn't all for nothing! O!

And I'll wait for you to call out
This time I've just a couple doubts on you
I wait for you to answer to my calls
This isn't all
Is this all?


nature intended the abstract for you and me

Comfy in Nautica

So I was thinking of Patti Smith and REM wile I was playing guitar to do some spoken words over heavy noise guitar. So I sat down and wrote some unfinished lyrics. I varry between thinking its good and its crap but I'm gonna put it here anyway.

Burt out light bulbs make a clear statement
The make it hard to read
Hell is all things static
Hell is everything I see
A hundred piles of broken CDs
Is enough to just disurage me
Hell is the notion that nothing around me is clean
The light shining off a ball point pen
Lapses into chaos for just one second and only in my mind
Six thoulsand wheels turning in circles
Can't really give me back my time
Hell is enthropy
Every time my heart beats it gives energy
Its gonna stop eventualy
Its hating music that you like music
Its hating everything about you
Freedom in everything you hate
Its the stifiling fear that one day I will slow down
I hope you never turn around
Hell is all things dynamic
The must be at least sixteen things pulsating around in me
A dog walk
A cherry bomb
Lether bound book
A warm day
Scotch tape
A split tung
gamma ray
A broken sign they took down so it doesn't swing anymore
I hope you never want more
Because I hope you never get more
Your ideas fit around you like a warm sock
Your made up preafrances
Hell is everying I haven't made
Hell is everyone I have ever talked to

just to have a good time