Spent the past hour and a half posting rehash movie quotes with my son instead of laying down some words worth interest, yet with all that aside what does it matter in a reality where all things are super consumable void of circumstance, so listening to Slint right now in order to push the words in the small amount of time left to write such illiterate logic, can't believe I such phrases come out plainly, the spellcheck has been turned off, time to go freestyle. All these mondays spent at Vegas happy hour bars watching small portion everyday 9 to 5 ers who are just a mere fragment in the clockwork which propels this city into its illustrious decadent cinema style legend has become pop fodder worthy of an X Factor season starring Brittney, OJ, and possibly Seth McFarlane, entertainment indeed.
Wanted to talk about a few cultural phenomenon that I got experience this weekend, a wedding and graduation ceremony but not enough time, tis the season or renewing so coordinated such things as above to confuse human beings into believing that the tried and true passages in life remain quite believable and passionate, but why spoil the fun for the human race it is much better to just let such events continue onto the next century. It is much better to watch white collar workers throw down their best moves on the female co- workers who sit and endure various lame come ons from men in various states of balding. Shit, why not, I am entertained as these guys go through the motions only to end up walking away alone on their way to the nearest fast food take out. Either way it is time to go and can only muster up a brief yet semi-inspired piece for your viewing. Let's See who else has been on the audio radar lately, Tame Impala, the new Deerhunter and of course Kendrick Lamar, Later.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Thursday, May 16, 2013
This Is Fcukin Awesome
It is weird when you get so old to the point that ignoring the fundamental truths which have brought one along so far in life no longer feels so wrong, maybe a little bit, yet here I stand in the middle another twenty something pop-fest with screwed on smile disguising a somewhat disconnected and uninterested attention span that would make even the most ADD ridden person seem hyper focused. Hell, it's not time to give up or attempt a peace offering with forces I have continuously been at odds with for the past 25 years, seeing that things like weird music, art, and culture invasively intertwined themselves into my DNA; it is hard to accept mediocrity as the absolute answer, even though for much of my life this has been the case. Had to put on Aphex Twin Selected Ambient Works II in order to generate a proper mood for writing this, no long driving voids into opaques galaxies of reasoning, it never resonates with all these people I passed by today talking about bargain diapers at Wal Mart, or half hearted pleas to obey corporate rules from indentured servants as their masters walk the never ending halls of madness seeking to make their existence just a bit more bleak.
Nothing better to do today than watch another internet sensation muse of the social injustices plied against homosexuals, the culturally unattractive, and those who want no part with mainstream artifacts.
These are worthwhile causes to remind our lovely little Facebook generation about so they can click on a bunch of likes/thumbs ups in order to bring about change. Yet there was something about the crowd who had been waiting for the past three hours to take part in the music video dressed in attire you might see in some hollywood prom night movie scene. Their eyes gave off a sickened stare, catatonic, lost in a wasteland constructed by upper middle class profiteers who had convinced themselves that their contribution to promoting socially conscious good times actually was benefitting society at large. Today was merely another distraction, though slightly more glamourous, in a series of daily detours which have paralyzed our youth into throwing away their lives in the quest for light beer, club music, and the occasional STD. As the audience was corralled into their proper positions, I took a bit of time to chat with a few of the people, if nothing else to get further intel on what brought them to this event in the first place, yet all people wanted to know was how to get into my industry. Admittedly, my job is somewhat of grand illusion that appears to be a brass ring to those who work for minimum wage in the service sector, still I take just as much shit as the next stiff, but today was easy and the conversation provided a few laughs in each direction.
The band came out on stage so it was time to get into character, screw the fake smile back on as a sea of eyes gave me the periodic glance, then refocused their attention back on the band parading about the stage with MC antics so throughly worn out that these guys should be sending royalty checks to MC Shan, Rakim, and Kurtis Blow. Time to go translucent as to not instill the cool factor too heavily into the audience who can become shellshocked hipster vibes like young fresh innocent deer at the crackling fire from a hunter's gun. After kneeling to the ground in a ceremonial like pose to make Tebow proud, the teens around me began to go into full on 1980's era Tijuana party mode, luckily or maybe not so, alcohol was not served during this performance in a club environment which may have tipped the party into high gear Roman era frivolity not seen since late 90's Vegas strip club after hours era.
Everyone knew the song and were more than obligating in their rendition of the tune throughout the many times it was replayed, no sense of half assing it. A collective recollection culled from the most sexually charged 80's heavy metal and 90's booty music videos began to flow through the audience in fragrant pungent candy cane waves. It's a T&A show now the other guys who came with the girlfriends pretending to be into this who charade spent most of their time staring at ass while waving make believe 20 dollar bills. The luster of fame, no matter how it is shared pulls in those who have little left in their lives to dream about than singing away all your problems to an audience of others that really want nothing else than to do the same thing, so there is a connection, not the only one, but a bond which has propelled unknowns into the spotlight as a mean of low rent exorcism. That is enough for now went way to long on this one, could been longer, merely a sneak peek into what runs around this brain of mine and the need to get it out as soon possible.
Nothing better to do today than watch another internet sensation muse of the social injustices plied against homosexuals, the culturally unattractive, and those who want no part with mainstream artifacts.
These are worthwhile causes to remind our lovely little Facebook generation about so they can click on a bunch of likes/thumbs ups in order to bring about change. Yet there was something about the crowd who had been waiting for the past three hours to take part in the music video dressed in attire you might see in some hollywood prom night movie scene. Their eyes gave off a sickened stare, catatonic, lost in a wasteland constructed by upper middle class profiteers who had convinced themselves that their contribution to promoting socially conscious good times actually was benefitting society at large. Today was merely another distraction, though slightly more glamourous, in a series of daily detours which have paralyzed our youth into throwing away their lives in the quest for light beer, club music, and the occasional STD. As the audience was corralled into their proper positions, I took a bit of time to chat with a few of the people, if nothing else to get further intel on what brought them to this event in the first place, yet all people wanted to know was how to get into my industry. Admittedly, my job is somewhat of grand illusion that appears to be a brass ring to those who work for minimum wage in the service sector, still I take just as much shit as the next stiff, but today was easy and the conversation provided a few laughs in each direction.
The band came out on stage so it was time to get into character, screw the fake smile back on as a sea of eyes gave me the periodic glance, then refocused their attention back on the band parading about the stage with MC antics so throughly worn out that these guys should be sending royalty checks to MC Shan, Rakim, and Kurtis Blow. Time to go translucent as to not instill the cool factor too heavily into the audience who can become shellshocked hipster vibes like young fresh innocent deer at the crackling fire from a hunter's gun. After kneeling to the ground in a ceremonial like pose to make Tebow proud, the teens around me began to go into full on 1980's era Tijuana party mode, luckily or maybe not so, alcohol was not served during this performance in a club environment which may have tipped the party into high gear Roman era frivolity not seen since late 90's Vegas strip club after hours era.
Everyone knew the song and were more than obligating in their rendition of the tune throughout the many times it was replayed, no sense of half assing it. A collective recollection culled from the most sexually charged 80's heavy metal and 90's booty music videos began to flow through the audience in fragrant pungent candy cane waves. It's a T&A show now the other guys who came with the girlfriends pretending to be into this who charade spent most of their time staring at ass while waving make believe 20 dollar bills. The luster of fame, no matter how it is shared pulls in those who have little left in their lives to dream about than singing away all your problems to an audience of others that really want nothing else than to do the same thing, so there is a connection, not the only one, but a bond which has propelled unknowns into the spotlight as a mean of low rent exorcism. That is enough for now went way to long on this one, could been longer, merely a sneak peek into what runs around this brain of mine and the need to get it out as soon possible.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Pump Down the Volume
Well hell, it's two years later and the only things matured at this point in my life have been the fat on my body and permanent caustic etched fatigue lines upon the skin. Freshly delivered truths descend from heaven's gate in bountiful baskets call complacency, denial, and fiction, not the kind of tales found in literature and film but the ones which allow people such as myself to rise out of bed in the morning without a cocktail of alcohol, pills, and various other reality masking substances. It is just not me, but everyone within an earshot; co- workers, friends, and complete strangers who seek an exit to sleep through one more afternoon of what ever various problems saddle them like a broken horse close to starvation. There does not seem to much of an escape route anymore that is not covered in the metallic barbs of internal self centered bitching or griping to a somewhat international online audience where a camaraderie of pain, boredom, and need for attention have superseded any real desire to resolve the generational social stratification and inequality amongst quarreling beings lined up alongside opposite sides of the same active volcanic rim.
Why has it become so much easier to give up? Living in the land of distraction has transformed me into a resident of streaming internet television, lazy dinners, and weekends down at the local pub. This all feels really safe, encouraged telepathically by invisible sources who seek to make me tread aimlessly in middle age routines. The best I can do now is sit at a bar and watch local patrons spend their money, get drunk, while jamming dollars into the hipster jukebox machine in the ultimate contest of punk chic indie cool. Lately, the curtain has risen on the next episode in this great lingering hoax. A new brood of decadent, drug taking, and disenchanted youth headed toward the same pitfalls that converted me into an anti-authority, unique culture seeking, and heavy handed detractor of all things obvious, fake, and status seeking has converged upon this uninitiated breed. It is such a grand set up which has delivered a pilgrimage toward the fringe flavors of the late 80's'/early 90's alternative culture, so come forth the reunion tours, cult films, and icons of the past that are being paraded down Pennslyvania Avenue like the Soviet military procession back during the cold war era.
Time for bed, there is an entire society of people who depend on my workplace contribution, even after being given the green light to wheel and deal in whatever manner seen fit throughout the night, just to file into the job like a military test subject injected with top secret psychotropic chemicals. You get through the day almost insect like, quiet, calm, and polite while on the inside it becomes a battle to fend off the fear which comes with detoxification and the yearning to continue the cycle as soon as the clock says its time to go. This is the beast which has a hold on me, one who seeks unlimited fun and no price to be paid who punishes its captor like an abducted child, love through pain and relief through regret, yet such illusions are best left for the mute expressions on the faces of those under the command of internal demons that come on in schizophrenic waves of panic because as the spirit of addiction intensifies the fearful eyes held captive by neural impulses seeking relief slowly die.
Why has it become so much easier to give up? Living in the land of distraction has transformed me into a resident of streaming internet television, lazy dinners, and weekends down at the local pub. This all feels really safe, encouraged telepathically by invisible sources who seek to make me tread aimlessly in middle age routines. The best I can do now is sit at a bar and watch local patrons spend their money, get drunk, while jamming dollars into the hipster jukebox machine in the ultimate contest of punk chic indie cool. Lately, the curtain has risen on the next episode in this great lingering hoax. A new brood of decadent, drug taking, and disenchanted youth headed toward the same pitfalls that converted me into an anti-authority, unique culture seeking, and heavy handed detractor of all things obvious, fake, and status seeking has converged upon this uninitiated breed. It is such a grand set up which has delivered a pilgrimage toward the fringe flavors of the late 80's'/early 90's alternative culture, so come forth the reunion tours, cult films, and icons of the past that are being paraded down Pennslyvania Avenue like the Soviet military procession back during the cold war era.
Time for bed, there is an entire society of people who depend on my workplace contribution, even after being given the green light to wheel and deal in whatever manner seen fit throughout the night, just to file into the job like a military test subject injected with top secret psychotropic chemicals. You get through the day almost insect like, quiet, calm, and polite while on the inside it becomes a battle to fend off the fear which comes with detoxification and the yearning to continue the cycle as soon as the clock says its time to go. This is the beast which has a hold on me, one who seeks unlimited fun and no price to be paid who punishes its captor like an abducted child, love through pain and relief through regret, yet such illusions are best left for the mute expressions on the faces of those under the command of internal demons that come on in schizophrenic waves of panic because as the spirit of addiction intensifies the fearful eyes held captive by neural impulses seeking relief slowly die.
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