electronic souls.

You are invisible.  You have finally logged off.  What now? 

Can you exist without tapping into the grid?  Is being humanlike with human'ness a liability? 

Embrace the singularity with open arms, and give it all you have is the slogan of our master's.  You are worthless without it.  It's seduced us all.  

Who and how and will the rebellion begin?  Or, will Arnold come back from the future to protect us from another, even darker future?

Fuck Tyler - A very short story about revenge complete with links

Tyler was a bastard.  He pinned Susie down.  He spit on her. He tossed her around like a rag doll.  He tried repeatedly jamming his fingers into her vagina. He was evil.

Susie would fear the moments alone together.  

One day Susie bought a big hunting knife from Big Five Sporting Goods.  When she found Tyler tending to his piece of shit, 1990 Kawasaki Ninja 250R, she rammed the monstrous knife into Tyler's left eye. 

She uttered only one word; "Idiot". 

The knife stuck a few inches deep, while a screaming Tyler moved about wildly, howling ever so higher pitched until he dropped to the ground. 

Susie watched with a sort of amused bewilderment.  The blood, the screams, the man grounded by flesh frailty.  

Thumbs up Susie.  You had a good day, as I've been told.

wines and roses

If consciousness is an expression of an inner feeling, where does absolute objectivity stand?  

Is it by numbers, a sort of democratic assemblage of human consciousness? 

The complicated messy stuff however, can usually not be commodified in hyper commercialism, so, let's not bother with things that have negative zero's attached.

Anyway, this exercise starts with its own hyper assumption.  The big "if" is hypothetical mumbo and jumbo.  To be fair, we all need a place to start, right?  

Remember those starry nights, filled with wine, in a friends patio, discussing the lofty.  Expressing the ideal's, the grand, and often, the built up skepticism of adulthood and trying to find THE PLACE.  

Thinking is becoming more and more crowded with iphones, instagram's, Bielbers and articles about Yahoo buying Tumblr.  

Who gives a FUCK about Yahoo buying Tumblr?  If you do, we are not simpatico.  Sorry, time is limited and you are a marshmallow.

those times.

Sometimes confusion arises when we think we need to follow a script, a plan set fourth, mostly discovered by piecing together other paths set fourth in our peripheries.  

Follow the leader.  See, this is how it was done before.  This is how (insert name) did it.

But, you are clearly you, and not that other (BLANK ) person.  So, trust yourself, and trust IN yourself.  Lead.  It's scary.  But, aren't we all scared anyways?  

Following the script might be good when you're doing a studio picture and the committee is looking over your shoulder, but in life, a script is nothing but fantasy plots.  Or worse, an excuse to do nothing.

Relevancy When Clocks Go Wild

The question of relevancy is always an important one when the arts, cinema or any cultural element is discussed, thought about, and perused towards some end.

We can always put our heads down and slog through the terrain, to do what we love without ever needing to be self aware of our place, or our goals, both collectively and individually.  But, that's a simple pursuit.  Valid as any, but, shallow in scope. 

Instead, and often, we think deep and long about our place in the world.  And, as the world changes in rapid succession, in a culture that Alan Moore deemed "The Culture of Steam", when discussing the immediate future, certain trends emerge.  And to clarify, I believe Moore was discussing the ungraspable future culture, as predetermined by technology and its interplay with our old world evolution.

This is the time of the instant update.  And, you can look no further than the emerging talent of today to really understand what this means.  In music, the perpetual mixtape was the start, but the further you push that along, the more you get to the current state.  Just like instagram, music has also morphed into the weekly song/video style most prominent in hip hop.  I like to use hip-hop as the example, because it's elements are very immediate.  It's production, usually fast, and wordplay doesn't necessarily need to be written.   

Acts like Lil B and Riff Raff elude to a changing landscape where they are always on the cycle of relevance, because, they mimic the culture of the internet itself.  They are both shrewd, entertaining and showman promoters.  They are a new species of music artist.  Self aware, skilled, entrepreneurial, shameless and momentum oriented.  And regardless of what you think of them, they continue turning critics into fans, by sheer willingness to be out there, to take the brunt of "haters".  

In an alternative way, if Riff Raff put out a few videos, and waited for something to happen, nothing ever would.  This is a critical difference between the old and the new.  The closest example in the film world would be someone like Joe Swanberg.  But perhaps, there are countless other "video" artist who are better examples whom I just don't know.  Tim and Eric immediately came to mind as the television version, but the metaphor is not as clear.  Adult Swim nurtures these changes, and was willing to take those risks years ago.  In the world of books/blogging, look no further then Seth Godin.

In a disposable age, perfectionism isn’t valued because we just don’t have time for it.  By the time it’s perfect, the world moved 10 steps ahead.  I know, your ol school idealism doesn’t want to deal with it.  Whatever. 

The question is, in this new landscape, what if you turned it off.  What if your video didn't come out on that Wednesday, or that you stopped your twitter'ing and vine'ing and facebook.  What if you get sick?  What if you don’t make three films a year?  And what if, you weren’t birthed into a career before this all happened?  You know, in the old timey days (pre 2005) when things work different? 

The constant hustle and digital sharecropping reminds me of Jaron Lanier's critique of the internet and the middle class.  You can hustle on that street corner all you want, but, when you get sick, well, you're fucked.  But, at least you’re relevant.   :) (smiley face)

pop + trash + culture + memories.

Low culture, sometimes deemed "trash culture" is where we are.  Escapism, transfusion plus fetishizing  is the state. Pop lives in this space mostly, but, it's always had the ability to move between cultural hierarchies.  At present, it loves trash, the audience devours it, and the appetite grows because priorities have changed. 

But, can we truly call anything pop anymore?  Exceptions exist, but when history is perpetually the present, it's difficult to have a true pop culture.  Pop relies on memories.  It happens, and it was that thing, but then it goes away.  It was silly, and we loved the novelty of it.    

However,  thing's don't really go away anymore, they get continued, rebooted, or dressed in a new shiny shell.  And we don't have the options to forget.  We only have options to filter.  And boy oh boy, that net is polluted.  

ignore.

the best policy for productivity is ignoring.  tuning out.  while a few might make some short waves by pounding on that online ruckus,  the overall effect is a net-loss.   i can't quantify it.  nor, do i want to.  but, in that marathon, your just not doing the work.

so, a little honesty goes a long way.  how bout a little self reflection to find the truth.  do your morning online rituals help.  how bout those constant novelty searching intuitions that arise from boredom.  

the best question might be, why are you so bored in the first place?  

​ps:  i didn't capitalize anything.  that is mad artsy.

the book versus the other plastics.

The book is old analog.  It's technology is without a doubt, one of the most important items in the human catalog.  

Books are the enablers.  The perfect informational passing device.

Almost always a perfect gift.

Books are not CD's.  Books are not DVD's.  Although, people love to include them in there analogies of the death of physical media.  

However, those forms were never necessary to the origins of their own particular media. Cinema needs other devices for transmission.  Music the same.  These forms always change. In many ways, and even with hard earned consumer consistency, they are not standalone.  How many music delivery systems have come and gone?  

The physicality of a book includes all of it.  The written word was always meant to be passed along, in it's final form.  it duplication is always scaleable.  Not from the beginning of course, but still, it could have been duplicated somehow, with errors, money and hard work.

And even though, the scalability of music and cinema can lend itself to other product forms, they will never be perfect.  Because its delivery origins are not seamless.  Music has always been a live format.  Cinema, was birthed in exhibition.  One ticket, one play.  No pause, reverse, repeat.

The book, in it's final physicality is the delivery.  It's a perfect system.  Yes, it can have an uglier digital counterpart, but it's essence is it's form.  And, only for environmental reasons would it ever go away.  

But, that CD you're holding, or that Criterion DVD you just bought, or that new XBOX game you stole, well, that's not going to be around.  So, build your collections now you geeks and nerds.  Show them off to your kids, who will marvel at that lo-fucking fidelity that you and I loved so much.

fear is....

that voice.  you’ve heard it.  no.  really?  it says things very quietly at first.

you might be riding a high, so, it’s hard to tell.  maybe it works too quick?

sit down, it might say.  sip on this water, you’re thirsty.  but, you think to yourself, “no, I’m absolutely not thirsty”.

the feeling starts deep.  in a cavity somewhere inside, a hole, straight down, all the way down, to China maybe.

you can almost reach down and touch it.  it loves amplification.  the echo last’s for hours, days and sometimes years.

and as it works itself up from the abyss, it reigns it's control.  spitting fire, turning the flesh and bone into the lizard it loves.

you’ve become primordial, etched in scales.

tongue and teeth, tail and eyes.  earth is lost, and so is sight.  

lizard brain = yolo

the games of chance.

​the game of chance.

clap on, clap off.

Disconnecting from the constant noise of popular existence is quite an undertaking these days.  When we unplug, the first reaction is an unnerving sort of anxiety.  Online is safe now, the status quo.

When you disconnect, you deal with the world, as real and mortal as it is.  People die in the real world.  People lose homes, and children and food, and rights.  But, our history was never virtual, and we got pretty good at it.

We are constantly watching TV now.  But, the platform has changed.  It’s no longer called TV.  And granted, we are in control of this new TV.  We pick the channels.   

However, most do not realize what this new freedom means.  And why their children are glued to phones, like the last generation was to television.  

More is not better.  Better is better. Better information, better entertainment, better knowledge and better systems.  As the saying goes, "Garbage in, garbage out."  

Often, when left to our own devices, we make the wrong choices.  Evolution is a son of a bitch.  And so is ignorance.

a thank you to Roger Ebert.

I'm pretty sure everybody that has had, at the very least, a sliver of interest in the movies and the language of cinema has a story to share about Roger Ebert.  

Whether it was about influence, or insight, or passion, or disagreement, Roger Ebert was big time.  

He loved movies so much, that it's inconceivable to think of any figure in these modern times, to exhibit the same anti-cynicism and commitment to cinema.  Almost all of us are in a sort of ambivalent love affair with movies these days.  For all the never ending enthusiasm and commitment to reach higher, there is always the death knell, the Holy Motors sign off.  Which was quite convincing by the way (btw ya’lls).

Somehow, both views fit.  But, it is fitting and sad, that Ebert, along with the rest of the classicist have now passed.  These were figures of what can be now called, "the good old days".  And we can cherish that, because its history has been written.  A place exists for the past.  It has happened, and it was witnessed.  The future however, is always a place of uncertainty.  Anxiety is birthed from the unknown.  And humans, given a dose of evolutionary psychology, always feel mixed about that which cannot be controlled.

The beauty of Ebert was that the man always committed to passionate thinking.  He was not afraid.  Nor was he afraid to change his mind.  

At his older age, he became a king of new media. With twitter, he could troll with the best of them.  His stance against video games as art was legendary.  Here was a man, not afraid of the consequences of thought, nor its expression.  Nor was he scared of being bullied for thinking.

Bombarded by children angered by an opinion, he pressed forward with what I can only assume was a grin.  Remember is beef with Vincent Gallo.  The man didn't back down from insults.  A classic game of "yo momma".  And he did this with a smile.  That's respectable. That’s heart.  

And no other critic could circumnavigate the mainstream all the while, championing the independent quite like Ebert. Who will ever have that leverage?  Who will ever care enough?

What a sincere love of something.  It was poetic to witness.  RIP Roger Ebert and thank you.  My mother thanks you.  She loved you.  

See you at the movies; home theater actually, because we all know that's where this is all leading, right?

facebook mortality.

I detached myself from the plug of social media’s major milestone intuition a few days ago.  My feelings are still intact.  I assume they will be.  I was never that active on Mark's (enter the classic ironic name droppin' styles)  site anyways.

These tools of interaction are very psychological in nature.  Their success directly calls to mind Pavlov and his dogs, salivating for A LIKE.  

Facebook obliterates the past, and makes the future impossible.  It sticks you in the eternal now.  Now and forever.  Which, without sounding pedantic, is different than the Eastern philosophical version of THE NOW.

The paradox being is that if your time is always spent, monkey down on the phone, you are the antithesis of NOW in one sense, but stuck in NOWness, till infinity in the dull, uninspired, technosapien sense.

I'm glad I've detached.  I like to remember high school as it was, and not some fatter, older, and eternal version of it. Plus, I don't give a fuck about your kids. (not true, I do.  they are all, mostly, pretty cute)

gritty handheld style it is not, asshole.

After watching a recent Hollywood film lauded as one of the great achievements of the year (the year would be last), I did what I do when I can't seem to figure out the hype from the fact.  At the very least, my facts against mediocrity.

So, I turned into some reviews to hear the voice of the critic.  Now, I only do this after the movie.  Mostly, just to gauge the critical zeitgeist and maybe to pick up on points that I neglected, or tuned out possibly due to bias.  In fact, often, I want to be proved wrong.  I want to be moved to believe that the movie was a masterpiece and I was just being an asshole, or plainly, ignorant.

So, after flipping through a couple of these eloquent reviews, one phrase stood out from the rest, breathing fire into the cultural void of existence. "Gritty handheld style" was this very phrase.  

Everytime I read something so asinine, I want to stop and call out to my maker.  But the fact that this was repeated in no less then 5 reviews in back to back succession makes me think, that sometimes, people are in a haze of automation, devoid of anything critical, analytical, or imaginative.  

Gritty handheld style in this particular case was nothing at all gritty.  What the fuck does this describe?  Realism?  Well, in this particular case, not at all.  Does it describe fortitude or determination.  No.  50 million dollars with the best technical minds around making fiction never ever fucking equates to GRITTY.  Ever.  (well, actually, there are a couple cases historically.  this is not one.  and I'm assuming, the budget never crossed the 25million mark) 

What it does describe however, is that all these clowns picked up the same description from wherever the hell, like 10 years ago, and decided to use it again, and again, and again, and thus removing any descriptive quality about it, in favor of press releasing a review.  In today's language, this just fucking blows.

I call for an indefinite ban, and personal banishment for any hee-haw that uses the phrase, "gritty handheld style" to describe anything related to a film.  They can however, use it to describe their latest iphone video of there cat licking its nuts.  As long as the phone is not locked down on a tripod, and that it is in fact, gritty by definition.

sipping on that bullshit budweiser.

A scary thought has been buzzing through the brain of late.  I contemplate the poor condition of pop music.  Much too often.  Then, i try to forget the thought.  I rationalize this as older man talk.  That type of shit OLD people did when they talked about The Stones, or Chuck Berry, or Zeppelin, or The Clash.  Actually, did they talk about The Clash that way?  Fine, the Pistols, or Public Enemy.  Whatever.  Enter any rugged new style that scared the fucking cardigan wearing wiseman out his granny panties.

So, let’s traverse to modern day.  We are certainly in the post-post music era.  A little bit of this, a little bit of Dylan, mixed with what Prince did in 84, and a touch of that band nobody has heard of, and a dropping of The Cure.  Yeah, that's what's up.  Repeat with looks, repeat with style.  

But Pop is a little different.  It's always been.  We always whine about it.  At this point however, mainstream is ALL STREAM ALL THE TIME for most people.  From the Rhianna to the Chris Brown shit, to Lady Gaga doing the next level impersonation of Madonna, to Justin T, the easy to digest negative 10 MJ (whom I find totally harmless and interesting at least).  To the most asinine lyric writers on earth, and the multitude of studio tricks and disingenuous manufacturing of controversy to push a BRAND.

And, of course the semblance of what was once termed HIP HOP.  The form that is finally falling of the mainstream mountain that it's held for the last decade.  I don't even want to discuss the state of that form.  It's beyond repair for the most part, which is great.  From the ashes comes the voice.  Hopefully, some of these nimrods come to understand that rich Italian designers find it hilarious that some hood brother’s ultimate desire is to be buried in one of his stores.  I mean, what reach, what determination.  

Kool G Rap talked about being a gangsta.  So does Rick the character plagiarizer Ross.  But, so did NWA.  And, that had the same effect as punk rock.  It was a reaction.  Rick Ross is not a reaction towards anything.  Who is he rebelling against?  What is his skill?  Ghostface on the other hand, is a natural storyteller.  He is skilled at something.  He is a character of his creation.

But, coming back to my point.  Am I the grumpy old man whining about the horrid state of mainstream music?  Do i not get it?  Maybe, but to my defense, first, I'm not that old.  Second, mainstream pop is horrendous.  However, at the other end of the musical spectrum, people are releasing amazing music constantly.  The niche’s are being taken care of.  So, how does this happen?

The world has entered the REALITY TV REALITY, without even batting an eyelash.  It’s cool though, SHINE BRIGHT LIKE A DIAMOND ya’ll!