november 25, 2006

today is my 25th birthday and my gift to myself is a day free of anxiety.

halloween

halloween party. saturday october 28. at the kinetic lair: 319 4th avenue (corner of 3rd st), ground floor, brooklyn ny.
f train to 4th ave. r train. to union st. 10pm. bring who you will. dress to impress.

why am i watching david letterman suck paris hilton's dick?

becuz i have no job bitchz. by choice too. oh boy is it great. aside from being completely fucking broke. but that, my friends, is where liberation lies. i'm following in the Hilton footsteps baby, no working, no brains, and famous as fuck for no reason. or.................. wait, maybe i'll just kill someone. it's quicker. yeah.

microwave pizza with fork & knife

this is the title of my new installation art piece. it consists of a white male, 24 years old, sitting at a cubicle desk, the titular meal in front of him. the viewer's perspective is actually physically changed by invasive surgical procedure to rotate outward in concentric ellipses at a rate of 180 degrees every 5 minutes to include in the field of vision a homeless man buying liquor at a Financial District store, business advisers making tapped cell phone calls on mp3 phones, a man dumping a body (female) on the banks of the East River, a Washington politician (male) receiving fellatio from a secretary (also male) underneath his desk, the re-nationalization of oil fields by the Bolivian president, an ice sheet the size of Rhode Island melting into the sea off the coast of Antarctica, the consulting firm of Hill & Knowlton advising the Chinese government how to image-manage the latest suppresion of rural villagers and the use of Google to monitor internet activity, the government of Chad expropriating oil profits to buy munitions, and a British model (female) snorting cocaine off the back of her hand in a restaurant bathroom. perspective concludes back at the start (point A) as the object white male thinks about playing guitar as his head fills with self-loathing.

what are the politics of boredom?

that's what was written on the banner Malcolm McLaren hung above the stage at the first New York Dolls gig. it's a worthwhile question. as i get older and recognize certain patterns in myself, i'm even more convinced that boredom is at the heart of so many evils. when i'm bored i get depressed, when i get depressed i drink and can't sleep, when i drink and can't sleep i get panic attacks. when i'm bored i hate the things i love and hate even more the things i already hate. the crux of our society, i think, is the organization of boredom, whether through diversionary commodities or meaningless labor. it's a self-perpetuating cycle of course, as the fleeting charms of products and socially-sanctioned activities breed a neurotic, compulsive need for more products and activities, more shiny, consumable image-identities to be bought, worn once, and discarded like a tacky prom dress. i'm startled that most of the people around me are more concerned with playing the part of their lifestyle archetype than doing anything with it, i.e. people in bands who are much more adept at "being a person in a band" than they are at writing a memorable song. we're a society of actors, and i live in the city of actors, and i'm a little bit sick of it.