Ape in Cage with Wire Cutters

hes a poet and hes I know in college but I can't shake the feeling, not knowing him in person, that hes sixteen because he seems to have a sixteen mindset or at least the just-finding-out-about-dada mindset I had when I was sixteen but really thats just me condesending him, i'm an asshole, and his poems are pretty alright although to be honest I didn't read much of them and the ones I did I skimed and he today writes that modern poets are shit and he talks about poetry readings where the only thing he gets from the reader is that they want people to like them that they're skreeming 'like me' through there poems pretending that thats not the case trying to be cool by delibratly trying to be differnt, the softer kind of hipsters basicly, basicly hes talking about thouse girls that live down the hall from me and lets be honest pretty much every girl at pratt and every girl back home and every girl who talks to me that I try not to talk to and then he talks about how he likes to go to the older generations poetry readings becasue they have more to offer him, and he's got that whole thing wrong of couse becasue the older generation poetry back in the day was just people trying to convince the audience that they're so cool based on snaping and stand up bass and black and that the only reason the older ones are better now is because these are the only people who stuck with it but whatever, you can't convice kids that kids are good, its too cool to hate your peirs and convince yourself that you belong with the older

THE POINT IS

in the middle of his rant he said that hes not trying to imply that his own poetry is so good or worth reading over other modern poets, hes just trying to point this all out and I think

IF THERE IS GOING TO BE A GREAT MODERN POET THE FIRST STEP WOULD BE DECLARING THAT, YES, MY OWN POEMS ARE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSES.

ba ba ba gonna die young

Pursuit of Happiness

When a character I care about in a book dies, at least when I care enough that this fact upsets me, I am always angry at the author. I think, this book could have been its own transient, it could have been glorious, and now I have to go through the next hundred pages of heart wrench and watch the charecters recover, and try to recover with them. They're not real. I am. But it hurts me anyway. I wish she had survived, and its weird to think that someone could have had her survive. It is I guess good to think that I can still feel this much based off a book, esspecialy givin my deep seeded half-apothy for everyone I know and at one point cared about at Pratt. but it is only half-apathy, and in that there is another problem.

I am reading Looking For Alaska by John Green right now. If you don't want the book spoiled for you do not keep reading. I read one hundred and fourty three pages of it over the course of yesterday, I hope to read the rest today. I am reading this because that shirt that I countiue to covit and continue to be bitter about, that shirt hanging on diana's wall I found out is quoted - though used in a compleatly different context - from it. I remember her talking about it all the famous last words. so I found out, and I'm an ideot, and I checked it out right away from the library. I am mad at John Green though I understand why he killed Alaska. I understand that Alaska had to die because Alaska had to die. Because otherwise the book would be a charming tom sawyer or ryan mcginley type fantasy, and because of her death it is now a n intence powerful book that, because it seems to be aimed at fourteen year-olds, I know would have changed my life at fourteen. though, fuck it, that is prentention isn't it? saying, yeah this would have changed my life but I'm above that now. so fuck it. It'll change my life. I'll let it. I'm not above this. not ever. And I think IF ALASKA HAD TO DIE THAN EVERYONE I KNOW AT PRATT IS GOING TO DIE. and I think that her death and the neccesity was a condemnation on the life we live here. Its telling us that we are doomed. and I can imagine justice or mary or esspecialy paige or mike and so on, they are all going to die. theres no other way to read this. and I think of of belle and sebastion.

Take me away from here I'm dieing, he said. He said sing me a song to set me free. nobody writes them like they used to so it might as well be me. there on his own now after hours, on his own now on a bus. look at it one way you could either be sucsessful or be us. with our winning smiles and us. with our catchy tunes oh us. we're so photogenic you know WE DON'T STAND A CHANCE.

tell me what you know about dreamin

We Want War

As a disclamer, I have only read a small amount of nietzsche, which puts me in a possition of one of those ideots who attempts to inturpret and cast their ideas on something they have almost no knowledge on. I meet them all the time, hell, my older sister is the biggest one in the world, so it pains me to breifly join their camp here. but nonetheless.

I've been thinking about Nietzshe's god is dead concept. Though, again, I haven't read it from his actual text, as I understand it's stating that we as a culture, as people as a whole, have for some reason lost the ability to beilieve in god. I understand that, I've spoke about it before. in my own experience I went for years, years, trying to beileve go exists, telling other people I believed, telling my self I believed, but I could not. even though I was raised with religion, and rased with that belief, I was unable to think it true. and i REALLY wanted to, I tried so hard. I could not.

and I'm thinking about our generation, and about the two or three previous to us, and I'm thinking, they had a concept of romance. of grand gestures and intence ideals, and we do not. this came up after meeting two pairs of my friends' friends. one pair being adam's friends nick and kelly from texas, and the other being paige's friends anne and garth from richmond virginia. Both pairs, in relationships, figured themselves very alternitive, in the old kinda way. which is to say, not hipsters, more punky or grungey. comited to peircings and talk of graffitti and being drifters and drugs and rebelling against money and so on. and I couldn't buy it. and I thought, these are just pale imitations of the punks of the past. but then I thought, why do I think that? what makes punks circa 1978 more authentic than punks circa 2008? and besides, I've met people who were punks when punk was alive and they are fucking horrible. if anything they didn't believe or understnad they're ideals more than the current ones.

and really it made me come to a realization. we have lost the ability to believe in romance. romance is dead and we have killed it. and I'm not talking about romance in love, though many have argued that we can't believe in that either, I've not found any trouble finding romance there. what I'm talking about is that believe in grand gestures, and that we can change the world, and stong princeipals and so on. these punks exist in small numbers and honestly it doesn't seem to me that they even beileve it themselves. and so there are no new scenes, exept for the constantly self-mocking and contredicting hipsters, who are compleatly opposed to all grand gestures, to all romance. there are no real punks, no real hippys, no riots, no full hearted protests, no drama in that way. in a way we have become a country of reluctant nihilists. we can't believe in anything, at least not that strongly.

and I think, well, isn't this a good thing? that people have calmed down and are opposed to summing up the world in one sentance and so on? that people have become realistic? and I think YEAH, of course its a good thing. its a great thing. i truly believe that for it our generation is better than ALL of them that have come before, and that when we are older we won't come off as such compleat ideots to the young.

but of course on the other hand, the world is a different, less intence place as a result. New York is not like it was in the seventy or the nintys and this is to blame. that crazy shit is not going on. that kids are going out to become designers instead of artists. that everything gets equily insulted and degraded on the internet and on tv. because when we all supsend our truth slightly together wonderful things happen. of couse things that are bullshit and devoid of truth, but wonderful anyway. Think of when everyone used to walk around in suits and dress clothes all the time. That kind of imposed formality was useless and bull shit when informality is more honest, alows for deeper connections, but what a site it made. how brillient that everyone looked sharp all the time.

so its this crappy conflict, that wide eyed romance that doesn't lead anywhere. and so I don't know. I didn't live in a time of romance, and its so likely that it was actually much more terrible than this, so I can't really talk. I don't know.

sea breeze sea breeze

The Opera House

perhaps its self indulgent to say that I am going through somewhat of an identity crisis resently. but really I don't know what an identity crisis is. and really I don't like the concept of identity. I never did. I remember in eighth grade we had to write a peice on who we are with some stupid mandala theme to it and I was pissed off. I mentioned it to eva, she was too, said that truly who knows who they are at this age. that wasn't my beef. its more like when adults would tell kids there are no good and bad people just good and bad actions that people do. thats just it. at thirteen I believed that personality was more or less an ilussion, a patter people make to make their actions more predictable to others. i am not a shy person I said I act shy a lot but other times I don't. I am not a nice person I said I try to be nice as much as possible but I've done some pretty cruel things and so have you and everyone else.

diana said this summer after I said something self deprecating that I act the same around everyone, which is good, and that she herself doesn't. I could have laughed. I definatly don't. but more what she ment is that I act how I feel always and don't (except ocasionaly) sell myself short or act for someone elses benefit. this is true to an extent I guess, though at pratt I do feel like I've been half living and half expressing myself and have being true, but otherwise. I have wild inconsistantcys. I act cute around Jackie a lot for the most part but this is not I think an act its more I think cutesy things around her because its fun to and because I do like thouse things i'm just not able to indulge in them around most people. and I act crazyer around adrian, and calmer around adam and more bombastic around cj and more painfuly depressive on my own, I act like humpry bogart around lilian and neil gaiman around emily and calvin from calvin and hobs around mary and in my head i am neil cassady and so on and on and in all it seems to me sometimes that I have twenty different personalitys and thats ok, or more than ok. exept right now. because I want to be so many people right now. Its not working. Its driving me mad. Its making me feel like I'm lying and selling myself short on all ocassions. its making me feel like a cheater and a crook and its causing a good deal of unceasing noise in my head. perhaps I need to settle on one personality. perhaps I need to stop being so obsessed with myself. probably. I don't know.

which is how we feel most of the time

Olympians

Open mindedness is killing us.

I wrote an artical last semester for english class about rockism and poptimism and how their both compleatly flawed and how sasha frere-jones is an ideot and in my conclusion I said look, music is amazing, its brillient, the most brillient form of media ever invented, probably that ever will. it can make you laugh and cry and dance and sing at the top of your lungs like noones listening, it can make you shout and break down and feel ten thoulsand emotions that you always felt but could never put your finger on, it can make you feel less alone, it can blow your mind, it can change your life. DON'T EVER THINK MUSIC IS NOT IMPORTANT. and to say it is not worth discussing and arguing about is pretty flawed aswell. I said some music is better than others. there is such thing as good music and bad music. but this cannot be locked down, it can not be catigorized, it cannot be made into a science. therefore you cannot say one genre is better than another. thats just blatent obvious bullshit. rock is not better than hip hop. some rock is better than some hip hop. some hip hop is better than some rock. some classical is better than some electronic music, some folk iss better than some jazz. this can go on forever. I said THIS CAN ONLY BE JUDGED BY EACH PERSONS SUBJECTIVE AESTHETIC AND EMOTIONAL PREFERENCES. and ofcourse it is only natural for a person to prefer one genre over another, thats ok. to say its necceceraly better that all other genres, probably not ok.

All this is important because so many people, in order to not be a rockist, in order to have an open mind, have blown open all the doors, will no longer make a distinction between good music and bad music. They'll take the 50 cents along with the Biggie Smalls, they'll take the Britney Spears along with the Lady Gagas, its all esentialy like taking the Courteeners along with Radiohead, not distinguishing between the two. And so are music becomes muddied with crap, theres no distiction, no importance put to the sounds passing through our minds in the name of keeping it open.

This goes further. Ethan, of course, has always been the prime example. In the name of an open mind he makes no disticion between what is good and what is bad. It's just the way it is, or its just the way he is, thats always his excuse. As a result he never made an effort, as me and adrian did, to curb his overly timid tendancys. Thats just who I am he said, who says its a bad thing. Nothing to curb his sloth or self delusion and now nothing to curb his excessive pot smoking. There is no good and no evil, no right and no wrong.

I can't remember what the topic was but it was something me and my older sister was talking about but she was making one of her psudo-snobby observation on some world issue and I told her thats horrible. I mean, thats horrible. she says she isn't making a judgment, just an observation, its not her call to make and i said no, this is not it, this is creating wrong, there is a judgement to be made and she said no. no judgment, no right no wrong.

Buisnessmen use elaborate reasoning and hipsters use complex forms of irony and art students use high rationilization but there is a right and a wrong. there is good music and bad music. there is a good and evil and just because its hard to pin down and just because its compleatly subjective and just because it varys, rightfully so, from person to person does not mean it doesn't exist. though unquantifyable it is still real.

of course, don't get stuck, don't be a dick, don't disregard other people's opinions, they have a right to their own subjective good and bad. keep an open mind, just not to open.

ok lets talk about magic

The Glow, Pt. 2

Something has gone despratly wrong in my life. I find myself compleatly apathetic to the people around me. Mostly my fault not theres. I am not myself. i am not there. I cannot figure out how to become myself again. Ontop of that I find myself continuously and increasingly detatched from my friends back home. how is it that I no longer respect emma esper? how is it that when I saw her over break all I could think about was rates of decay? how is it that my and jackie no longer seem to have anything to talk about? what happoned to ethan? in my life I am smoking too much pot drinking to much acohol, smoking occasional cigarettes, everything I used to hate and lets be honest still to an extent hates. I am not taking care of my body. I am eating crap. MY MUSIC SUCKS. i am not making films. I am listening to disorganized crap, things I probably wouldn't like on my own but friends sugested and I don't want to seem like a dick by not listening to. truly I am a dick or a hypocrite with music. i have been trying to listen to pop and hip hop becasue yes I know its an asshole thing to disrespect them i know and i know truly there is a lot a lot of good there and to ignore that would be to ignore a range of human emotions. and you see when in a social place and people ask me to put on music I don't want to put on my 'difficult indie and electronic' music becase noone wants to listen to it and so I put on music that i don't want to listen to or i put on my music and feel like I desprately have to defend it. no one wants to listen. I am not made for this. my grades are slipping. so is my sleep. I am spending my time by myself on the computer. I think mostly about girls. About girls who want to sleep with me who I want to sleep with but really don't want to sleep with and won't. about other girls who don't want to sleep with me and really I don't want to sleep with eather, but I think about them anyway. about diana who thinks I am an asshole which is probably a good thing of her to think. I hate myself. I never hated myself before, even during times where to be honest I was a rather hateable guy. now I hate myself. what the fuck an I doing? what the fuck am I doing?

my blood flows harshly

This Must Be The Place

Just to keep with my habbit of posting everything I've writen that I'm proud of up here, this is the second part of my aplication for tranfer to SVA.

Open with a close-up of the turntable spinning as Zach's hand places the needle on the record. A mid-sixties Coltrane song plays at an extreme volume. The camera stays on the turntable while we hear Zach return to the couch. Cut to a shot from Zach's perspective where we get a sense of the garage, packed with clutter and boxes. The garage door opens, and it's so bright outside, it blows out the camera momentarily. We're only able to see Adrian once he closes the door behind himself.

Cut to a wider angle still, from the room's back corner. We now see both characters. Zach stumbles to his feet to turn down the stereo as Adrian grabs two sodas off the dresser.

"Hey," Zach says, almost as an afterthought.

Adrian hands Zach a soda and sits down on a chair to the couch's right. The camera begins to slowly dolly around the characters, giving us, for the moment, a view of Zach's face and Adrian's back. Adrian says, "Hey, how was your flight?"

Zach collapses into the couch. "Horrible." He closes his eyes. "I'm back now, though. It's great seeing you again."

By now, the camera's in front of the characters, a medium two shot. We have a full view of Zach's face; his sunken eyes, caused by sleep deprivation. Adrian can't help but notice.

"Yeah, no joke." They sit for a minute, sipping on the sodas. Zach closes his eyes. Adrian shifts in his chair.

Adrian breaks the silence. "Look, are you alright? Should I leave?" The camera begins to hesitantly cut between two over-the-shoulder close-ups.

After a beat, Zach says "I'm good, really," he smiles, opens his eyes. "That's..."

"That's the least convincing thing you've ever said?"

Zach sinks further into his seat and stares back downwards. "Yeah. Sorry."

Adrian hesitates, then sits forward, "Hey, man, um," pause, "have you spoken to Jen?"

"Um," says Zach, "yeah, I have. She's, um-" He leans forward, rests his head on his hands, his elbows on knees, stares at his feet. "She said she'd stop by later."

Zach plays with his soda cap. Adrian looks at Zach, disapprovingly.

"Zach."

Cut to a close shot of Zach's hands, between his knees, playing with soda cap, his face off the frame. It stays there as he says, without looking up, "No. I mean, it's fine. We're over it. I mean, we're all over it."

It cuts back to the close two shot of them. "No," Adrian says. He stands up, his head now above the frame. "I mean, fuck." He turns away. "Fuck!"

After a moment, he falls to his seat. Zach looks down.

They sip their sodas and listen to the record.

"Is this Coltrane?"

Zach shrugs.

"You're always listening to Coltrane."

Zach says nothing.

Cut back to the view of the garage from the couch. The spinning record is in view on the frame's left side. The massive garage door dominates the right side. Above Coltrane's desperate screech, we hear them shifting in their seats but we cannot see them.

Eventually, the garage door opens, again blowing out half the frame. Cut to an unsteady handheld position behind Adrian and Zach, before we can see who's entering. Zach stands, leaving his soda on the ground. Jen walks into the garage wearing red, one-piece pajamas. She hugs Zach.

The handheld camera moves around the couch to get closer to the figures, the open garage door still burning a painful light in a portion of the screen.

Jen is smiling widely. "Hey!" she says, looking at Zach.

Zach smiles back, suddenly energized, "How's it going?"

Jen lifts a couple sodas off the dresser. She walks back to the couch, the camera walking with her. Jen says "Adrian," and nods at him, cheerfully. The camera pans around to see Adrian raise his soda bottle in reply.

Zach returns to the couch. Jen stands in front of the stereo. The camera, still in the unbroken handheld shot, moves far to the side so that Zach and Jen are in the foreground, Adrian seated in the background. Behind Jen, a small portion of the open garage door remains visible.

"How was your flight?" Jen asks.

Zach smiles. "It was alright." Adrian looks down, shrinks back in his chair. Zach says, "What are you wearing?"

Jen laughs, "Well, it's obviously a onesie. I just bought it."

"That's awesome!" says Zach, enthused.

"I know!" She looks into Zach's eyes, says, less cheerfully, "You look like you haven't slept in two days."

"Yeah, well-" Zach looks away. A moment passes.

"Well, I just stopped to say hi, and drink your soda. I'm heading home," She looks at Zach, "But

we definitely have to hang out this break."

"No kidding," Zach says. Jen moves towards the exit. Adrian gets up, follows her. The camera also moves to follow, staying close behind Adrian. Over his shoulder, we see her exit into the extreme light. Adrian closes the door behind her. The camera cuts back to its stationary position behind the couch. Zach is, again, sunken into the couch, playing with the cap. Adrian walks over, doesn't sit down. He just looks at Zach.

Cut to a close-up of Zach, uncomfortable, not looking up at Adrian. "Dude, I'm..." He looks up.

"What are you doing?"

Cut to a two-shot from besides the characters, they just barely fit in the frame.

"I'm waiting for her to turn the corner outside," Adrian says. No one says anything for a few bars of music.

Zach begins, "Dude, I'm really sorry, I..." Adrian punches him in the nose and walks out of the frame. Cut to a close over-the-shoulder shot of Zach, who reaches his hand to his face. He pulls it away to see a trickle of blood on his fingers. The camera cuts back to behind the couch, the door just closing behind Adrian. Coltrane blows on his saxophone like a man on fire.

"Fuck!" Zach shouts. Cut to black.

never for money, always for love