So: I came to a conclusion in the days leading up to the election--maybe a week before election night. Not a particularly profound conclusion, but it totally made me re-evaluate my opinion of two prominent personalities.

Mitt Romney is the politician version of Lana Del Ray.

They are both super-rich old-money automatons playing a part to appeal to as many dumb people as possible. Both get--or did get (in Romney's case)--a lot of flack for playing their parts awkwardly. For Lana Del Ray, no one knew if she was being serious or not. Her "art," to say the least, is a hackneyed regurgitation of everything that appeals to lonely 14 year-old girls with Tumblr accounts. Whether she intends to or not, her inability to really sell her hipster pop-star persona--the unoriginal themes in her lyrics, the matter-of-fact crudeness of her presentation--is what makes her such a brilliant deconstruction of everything that the hipster movement has become.

For Romney, it was pretending to be a regular "middle-class" joe and saying things that legitimate middle class people like to hear. For instance, saying he was going to crack down on tax dodgers and rich people who take advantage of offshore loopholes, when that's exactly how he made his millions--well, that an disenfranchising the working class he so adamantly pretended to rally behind.

The humor, in both cases, stems from these two people trying and failing to appear--not normal, but "natural" in the identity they (and likely a team of individuals) crafted for themselves. That is: it would be funny if everyone could see that it's funny. But, alas, Mitt Romney still got a good chunk of the popular and electoral vote and Lana Del Ray still makes money off of...whatever it is she's doing.

I feel kind of bad picking on Del Ray and Mittens, because I kind of admire what they're doing. It all goes back to that one quote, which I'm going to paraphrase because I'm too lazy to look it up: No one ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the American people. As apparent, as depressingly obvious as it seems to me, that Mittens and Del Ray aren't the people they play on TV, a substantial number of Americans really do think they are the people they claim to be. Like I said before: Mittens still got a substantial number of votes. And Del Ray is making sweet sweet bread off of her...uh...that thing she does.

It's cynical and perhaps exploitative, but I love it. Both figures are making a name for themselves--never mind the money--by saying exactly what people want to hear. They don't even have to sound sincere or look sincere in their presentation. For Mitt, all he has to do is say "America" a bunch of times, call Obama a "socialist" and say that he cares about the working class and poor. (Which, by the way, did you hear how he says "poor"--it sounds like something he had to consciously work on because, in private, he says it with a cynical sneer as he counts the millions he made off of those "dupes"). A record number of people tuned in to the debates. They saw Mitt's million-dollar Mr. Burns smile. They heard the way he referred to women as things that could be kept in a binder. They heard him say he wanted to cut funding to PBS--America's last truly objective news source who has to be objective because of the funding they get. And they STILL VOTED FOR HIM!

Same with Del Ray. Without doing any actual research, I know that she comes from money. Sure, she lived in a trailer, as she claims. But it wasn't because she couldn't afford to not live in a trailer. It was just her play-pretending to be poor, because...dude, being poor looks like so much fun. And I also know that she previously tried to make it as a "pop" star--with a totally different marketing strategy and image. And because I know these things (not being a fan of Del Ray's), I know that her fans must know these things. They know that she sometimes sings in a reaching-for-sultry-but-sounding-like-a-trans-woman-post-male-hormone-therapy Brooklyn accent, but she doesn't talk that way: and they don't care. And...to tell you the truth. I don't know that I care either. Because, whether or not she is truly doing this for her art, and whether or not she truly has no identity (or maybe just one that we don't see), she is at least projecting back to us--the normal people--who she thinks we are and what we apparently care about. Her and Mittens are basically well-polished E.T.'s holding up a mirror--and we like what we see so much we don't care who's holding the mirror. (Brilliant metaphor, I know).

So, what does this mean in terms of how we accept and define identity as a culture? I don't know. I don't think I have the mind to understand it. In the post-times-infinity-modern era, irony is no longer ironic and everyone is who they aren't, so it's hard to get a good reading on anyone.It's enough to make anyone feel autistic. Granted, politicians are notorious for saying what people want to hear. And part of being a performer is "performing." But now I think it's become acceptable to be who you're not and let who you pretend to be define you and not worry about playing the part convincingly.

not title

I have a horrible tendency to binge-devour content. Pop-culture content. Informational content. Any and all types of content. I am eternally prowling for my next fix--looking for a certain emotional, intellectual or some other kind of response. The trouble, though, is that I feel like I do nothing with this content. Once I see something new, I discard it as "already seen," so that I'm not applying it to anything.

And the thing is: I can't go back and re-experience that stuff. It loses its appeal the second I see it or experience it for the first time. So, in effect, it feels like I'm constantly overwhelming myself with new information but none of it sticks. I am and will always be, it seems, who I was or who I am essentially--before exposure to the content. I think in the same way, I choose words from the same mental wordbank. I'm seeing all this new stuff, reading new books, articles, watching new movies, listening to new music but it's impact is almost always temporary.

I'd like to be one of those people who is able to take every little bit of whatever kind of information, commit it to memory and still feel inspired by it later.

I don't know why I'm stuck in this pattern where I'm constantly chasing the "new." The things I like--whether its art or books or movies--are almost always regurgitations of information I'm already aware of. This ties in to all those cliches you hear about art or poetry--that the really good stuff is just the old stuff reconfigured. I don't lack the ability to look at things I'm already aware of in new and interesting ways. My problem is that I'm constantly searching for new and interesting things--things I've never seen before or experienced.

There are so many experiences to have, I know it's naive of me to think I've "seen everything." Because I haven't. But I'm old enough now, I feel, to have experienced most things and to know that any new sensations are just combinations and variations on things I've experienced before.

the dread subsides

There are two women talking over each other. One, the older one, dominates. Her voice cuts through stronger. The older one is talking about a commercial everyone has seen like no one has seen it. "Remember that commercial?" The younger woman pretends, for whatever reason, that she is only somewhat familiar with the commercial. "Oh, yeah!" The younger woman is being interviewed by the older woman for a job interview. She is sitting with her arms folded on the table. Back straight. Sitting up with good posture. The older woman is talking about anything and everything, treating the younger woman like an old friend. The younger woman plays along because she doesn't know if the casual nature of this conversation means she has the job or if the older woman is just the type of person who talks because she can't help herself.

I've never seen the younger woman outside of this one occasion, but I can tell she doesn't dress this nice all the time--that is: I can tell she dressed up extra special for this interview. The older woman is dressed nice, too--but it looks natural on her, like a second skin.

There is a book somewhere--several books--I'm certain--documenting not only appropriate interview behavior but the natural tendency in humans to defer when they want someone--an employer--to give them what they want--a job. The younger woman is a living, breathing real-life manifestation of the pages of this book. She agrees automatically with everything the older woman says:

"I know!"
"Yes!"
"Exactly!"
"Oh, I'm the same way!"

It must feel good to always agree with someone--to do it automatically, without thinking--without the peskiness of trying to defend your threadbare ego all the time--when agreeing means a betrayal of something essential--a core belief or conviction--that you cling to because, in some way, it dictates who you are.

Generation Why Bother?

I began watching the movie Submarine today. I made it to the twenty minute mark before I decided I was wasting my time. Maybe my reasons for not liking the movie are too personal. I'm sure it's a fine film. But to me: it was painfully obvious that the director/writer (whoever I can point the finger at) was attempting to recreate The Royal Tenenbaums and Harold and Maude without actually offering anything interesting or new.

I understand that, to an extent, everything--every creative work--is a re-hashing and that nothing is truly original. But: I think the problem with my generation is that we refuse to think for ourselves--to find our own voice. Which is why there's such a disgusting proliferation of bad-on-purpsose movies and remakes and B-movies released by A-movie studios made to look like B-movies. I mean I get it. I understand that a lot of these movies are homages: but I don't think an homage alone really means anything. The only thing these movies (and this extends into music and other forms of art right now) are saying, really: is that the people involved really liked how someone did what they're trying to do. And that's not enough to make a compelling product.

I think I first noticed this phenomenon when I saw the movie Super 8, which I knew going into it was a deliberate homage to Steven Spielberg movies from the eighties. What I didn't know going into it, however, was that that was all it was--and nothing more. An homage for the sake of creating an homage. An imperfect mirroring--nostalgia for the sake of nostalgia. The movie succeeded in looking like a Steven Spielberg movie from the eighties. The storyline was similar. There direction was similar. But the movie failed to engage me because it simply was not a compelling film.

I feel the same thing happened with Submarine. If you'd never read the Catcher in the Rye or seen Harold and Maude or watched a Wes Anderson movie: you might think it's an ok movie. But if you've experienced any of the aforementioned things, then I don't see how you couldn't find the movie irritating beyond comprehension.

I have no problem (at least I don't think I do) with creative people wearing their influences on their sleevs. But if that's the only thing they're wearing: then they're naked and I can see them for the uninspired look-at-me hack that they are. And I think that's fair ground to dismiss thier work.

In music: I've noticed a lot of throwback artists. And this is something I started noticing before I noticed it in movies. The point being: it's everywhere now. No one wants to try to say something in a new or unique way. Everyone wants to be super-aware of what they're doing. There is so much pretense in art right now: and that's not a word I throw around just to throw around. Frankly, I don't have the stomach for it.

The thing that makes people watch bad movies (vs. bad-on-purpose movies) like the Room is that those movies had no idea at the time that they were bad. Therefore: they're funny. But when you try to make something bad on purpose or something that looks like something else from a different culture-specific or time-specific context, it just strikes me (and maybe it is just me) as disengenuous. There's no doubt in my mind that what these people are creating is genuine: that they either love or ironically love whatever it is they're referencing, but that doesn't matter because they will never be able to create the original thing again. And they know that: so why do they even bother?

In our current throwback culture, this phenomenon manifests itself in two ways: there are of course the explicit remakes. Then: there are the homage pieces. But it seems like little else is being produced.

I just hate that this is how my generation is going to be remembered culturally: as the generation that couldn't think for themselves. The generation that deliberately defined itself by the way other generations defined themselves. A facsimile generation of twee garbage.

Bottom line: I like a good impersonation as much as the next person. There's an art to recreating a certain mood. A certain atmosphere. A style. But it's not an art that has ever been (until now) taken seriously. When I think of the worst comedians: I often think of the comedians who can only do impressions. Sure, it's a talent. But is it really any more valuable than, say, being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue or some other natural talent? Why not take advantage of that talent--apply some actual thought to what you're doing--and create something else--something insightful, something honest, human and unique. The only thing honest or human about homages are that they signify on one level that the creative people in charge like something. And...so what? I like stuff, too. I like the Shining. Say I did a shot-for-shot remake of the Shining. Nay. I'll take it one step further: Say the Shining was a painting and I was able to recreate a photo-quality reproduction of that painting. What is the merit in that? Is it enough to make it worth anything. Would anyone pay to see my painting of the Shining vs. the original? Maybe. I don't know. Like I said: mimicry is a talent whose appeal extends only so far. There is little depth to mimicry--to recreating something. And, I imagine, the reason impressionists and the like are never celebrated for too long--are never remembered--is because people see it for what it is: a talent. Nothing more. Someone who is able to take one thing and do it again.

So. I don't know. I like Harold and Maude. I like the Royal Tenenbaums. I like Catcher in the Rye. But those things are all good enough on their own. They don't need to be recreated. They don't need to be rehashed--and rehashed so transparently. But they do get continuously rehashed. Perks of A Wallfower, anyone? I understand why. But I'm sick of people praising these deliberate re-hashing and I refuse to jump on board with the rest of my generation and celebrate things that I've seen done better (or worse, because they were bad on accident) before.

I don’t know why I’ve lately felt so unable to express myself. These little flare-ups happen in regular cycles—about once a month now. And I can usually work through them. Or: they go away. But this one has been the most prolonged. And it hasn’t been limited to expressing myself in writing or being able to articulate my thoughts when I have the time to actually think about how I feel. I can’t express myself verbally either. Or: at least, I don’t think I can.

Is it really all in my head?

I think I psych myself out by over-thinking it: what I intend to say. I can’t just commit to any one opinion. And I’m not one of those people who can just open up their mouth and the words come gushing out. I don’t know how they do it. They make it seem so effortless. It’s not that what they’re saying is profound: or anything I haven’t thought of before. They just always have something to say. It doesn’t matter what they’re responding to. They respond so quickly with a neat little aphorism or candid joke.

My problem is that I have to know exactly what I want to say before I say it. I have to check what I want to say against itself to make sure that what I want to say sounds good. There are times when I can talk somewhat freely—when I don’t feel the intense pressure I normally feel to say something funny or witty or smart. But those instances are very rare.

I used to be able to locate all that nervous energy (not knowing where the conversation would go or how the other person would respond or react to what I would say) but I no longer feel that confident in myself.

This is going to get worse before it gets better. I need a distraction.

I once heard a definition of fashion (or maybe I made it up, I don't know) as seeing how much you can dress like a kindergartner and get away with it. For the most part: I think this is true. But I was thinking about it today, just before slipping into a nap, with tumblr-images of vice-type fashionistas running through my head, and it occurred to me that a lot of what passes as fashionable today mirrors the distinct apparel of retarded people. In fact: it's the one guarantee in fashion: when in doubt, dress like a retard. If you can't imagine a retard wearing it, it's not fashionable.

I'm not just talking about tween-wave fashion (see: the Bieb-machine) which seems to be a mentally-challenged attempt at combining hip-hop and punk styles and succeeding at neither. I'm talking about the things you see models wearing in Vice--in the grainy-on-purpose tumblroids (tumblr/poloaroids...did I seriously just make that up?) I alluded to earlier. Probably because a lot of what these models wear is bought at second-hand stores and at some point was worn unironically by the mentally less-capable: weird t-shirts sporting causes and bands and things in general only retarded people can legitimately appreciate (a Ghostbusters sweater, say, which retarded people wear because they like to wear things with pictures of things they like on them but hipsters wear because: "ohmuhgawd. this sweater is so lame. but i love bill murray and nostalgia's awesome." ); ripped or acid-wash jeans (because they're so unfashionable that they're now fashionable) and ugly sweaters (which anorexic brooklyn-ites wear like heroin shrouds over their skeletal frames but retards wear in earnest--as earnestly as you can wear a sweater). And this rule isn't solely limited to clothes: it also applies to accessories, especially eyewear. There's a certain stock selection of glasses which all retarded people and hipsters seem to choose from: the bigger the frames--the more ostensibly "unstylish"--the more it signals to people that you are either a.) really fucking cool or b.) the kind of guy who angrily shits himself because you don't know any better.

So...new rule for 2012. If I'm about to go out and I can't decide if what I'm wearing is fashionable or not: I'll just ask myself: "Can I imagine a retarded person or a really bratty kindergartener who insists on dressing himself wearing this?"

Or something.

I should also clarify something. It's perfectly acceptable to appreciate Ghostbusters. I appreciate Ghostbusters. The point I was trying to make is that: it's no longer cool to wear anything unironically. Even if I appreciate Ghostbusters, I can't just go out and buy any old Ghostbusters t-shirt. It has to be vintage. And I can't like it that much. It have to have a whatever attitude about it. Otherwise: I look like a fanboy. And liking something in earnest, like a fanboy, isn't cool--which is how retarded people like things. They truly appreciate things in earnest.

A hipster might like something but they'd never actively look for a t-shirt with something they like on it (this is the reason those made-to-look-vintage shirts at Target with bands people actually like on them don't sell--also because they're bands everybody knows and they're not lame enough to be worn ironically). Whereas: a retarded person would wear the Ghostbusters sweater long after the initial Ghostbusters hype to the present day: when it's suddenly cool again to wear a Ghostbusters sweater--or any piece of clothing that smacks of eighties ephemera.

The US government recently shut down Megaupload, which makes me even more distrustful of the record industry and the business side of Hollywood. I think if content distributors made their prices fair--if they didn't gyp the artists themselves out of so much money for their own fucking content and weren't focused so much on making record profits vs. the considerable revenue they already generate, sites like Megaupload wouldn't need to exist.

You can get rid of all the peer-to-peer torrent and rar sites, but I'm still not going to pay $20 for a cd or even more for my favorite show on DVD. I could care less about the packaging.

I want to support the artist/the writers/the directors--all creative hands. But I know that they only receive a very small portion of the money I give when I purchase their products--which aren't really their products at all but the distributors'.

What it all boils down to is that these distribution companies and record labels know they are losing their hold on the consumer dollar. The Internet has made them all but irrelevant. Because: they can no longer control the content we see--the content we want to see. We have other means now of not only finding content but getting it cheaply or at no cost at all. And they like to point to terms like capitalism and free enterprise and make it an argument about American values--but the truth is: they got beat at their own fucking game. If someone offers a product cheaper--if someone offers a product for free--the same product you're trying to sell: then that's where people are going to go to get that product. That's how it works. That's how capitalism remains competitive. And competition is what makes capitalism capitalism. Without competition--you have single entities dominating an entire market. And that's always what these mega-corporations (not just the labels) have sought to achieve. That's why mom and pop start-ups never work--why the current business climate doesn't truly foster growth in smaller sectors--growth for smaller businesses. But because the Internet is such a wild west expanse of content and because it's such an alien medium to these old-fossil tycoons: they're starting to get a little squirmy. They can no longer control everything. This is why Rupert Murdoch gets antsy and pours however many millions into Myspace long after Myspace is even relevant. Because he's so out of touch he doesn't fucking know that Myspace is irrelevant. He's so hellbent on controlling every major media outlet but he has no idea how the Internet works--or how information is generated on the Internet because it's not TV and it's not one of his journalistically irresponsible newspapers.

So: you know what? Fuck him. And fuck the labels, distributors, production companies, etc. We don't need them to make content. We don't need them to make art. Art will be made with or without them. And it will be seen with or without them. We don't need the glitz and glamor of a major Hollywood production to voice what is true and essential. We have places to post videos, to post songs and share content--and now that the labels are encroaching on these mediums (vevo, anyone?) we have even more reason to not give our money to these people.

It does bother me, though, that the US Government shut down Megaupload. Not just because they shut it down, but because it's obvious why they shut it down. Because money talks and I'm sure these industry professionals have lobbyists who paid off members of congress to shut it down. It wasn't just an anti-piracy issue--because it never can be. It's all about the asshole with the most money buying himself the loudest voice and trying to drown out all other voices. And I'll be damned before I'm made to believe it's unconstitutional to rob the entertainment industry of a few measly dollars when they not only make billions but have made their billions by robbing the consumer and the artists themselves.

Fuck 'em.

I'm also worried that this recent legislation was in no small part inspired by the recent SOPA protests: that the protests made sites like Megaupload more visible to people seeking to shut them down. There was of course that video on Youtube with all those stars singing the praises of Megaupload. The video wasn't up for very long before the record companies threw a fit and demanded it be taken down. Which it was, ironically: never mind that whole free speech thing--proving that if you have enough money you can silence anyone. So, I wouldn't doubt that the same people responsible for getting that video removed were also responsible for getting Megaupload shut down. And it's especially unfortunate because this is one of the exact things the anti-SOPA campaign was trying to prevent from happening. So: it makes me wonder. What's the point in protesting things like SOPA or PIPA if they're just going to find other ways to do the exact same things?

It makes me nervous. I know this is wrong. I know it's not right for one entity to have complete control over all intellectual property. But I feel powerless to stop it. But I feel like I have to stop it. Since this is such a personal fucking violation and because it's not fair that these same corporations that promote concepts like capitalism and enterprise are not so secretly seeking to destroy those very things by eliminating all competition.

I guess it's OK to write about it but I feel like I should take more effective action.

I don't know.

notes from the ego

I’ve always been an indecisive person but lately it’s become unbearable. There are so many things I just have no clue how to resolve. Mostly big things: like finding a career, deciding if I want to be in a relationship or not, and if I do, what kind of relationship I want to be in—whether I should expect to find someone completely accepting of me so that I can live selfishly and pursue things I’m passionate about (art, music, writing, etc.) or if I should attempt to kill my ego completely, living life selflessly for my partner and people in general. The thing is: I really don’t know. I don’t. And all this bleeds into my day-to-day life: so that I’m constantly fixated on being the best version of myself I can be, despite the fact that I have no idea yet who that person is because I’m constantly seeking to find my true and essential identity. And it always changes: sometimes within the span of an hour. I’ll decide: OK. I’m a selfish person who can’t be tied down to anyone or any routine. I need my own personal autonomy to be happy—to live a happy and fulfilling life. Then: I’ll think that that’s just me being ignorant and that I stand to learn so much more, to gain so much more out of life, by living for others. Maybe not living for others: but focusing my attention outside myself. I’ve determined that there are ways to merge the two: to appreciate people objectively—to appreciate the world objectively by weighing every experience, every encounter, against my own calculated worldview. So far: this seems like the best option. But I don’t want to fall into the pattern of making too many or any, if I can help it, compromises to please others if at the same time I’m compromising who I am—especially if who I am, in my private heart, as Emerson says, is the only thing I can or should cling to, since not only is it essentially “me” but it will also be the version of me I’ve invested time into honing.

I don’t know. I realize this probably sounds like nonsense—but that’s only because it reflects the chaos I feel internally; and it’s only becoming more chaotic with each passing day. I can see all the components laid out in front of me, I can see the problem deconstructed and in so many pieces, but the solution eludes me. I value my independence. I value my autonomy. But I can’t be one of these people who never bends to the will of others or adapts to new situations. I think the problem is that I’m too adaptable—it’s like a survival mechanism. And the reason I think I’m this way is because I’ve always been someone who seeks the approval of others—someone who craves attention and needs to feel appreciated. Therefore: I rarely dissent or do anything that I know will cause conflict. But I’m also the exact opposite. The mood strikes me sometimes and I say what I’m thinking because I know it will get a reaction and I know it will stir up controversy. I am so many different things at once—limbs scattered in so many regions simultaneously, staked across so many planes, but I’m still able to transmit signals to each of them. I’m still functional despite being in so many pieces.

I know the easy thing to do would be to narrow my worldview—my approach to how I interpret the world—so that I can sort of plug and chug anytime I encounter new information or find myself in unfamiliar situations. That way: I know in advance how to feel. Because my identity is definite—or it is at least defined. There’s a danger in doing this, I know from personal experience, because your ideas, your philosophies and, ultimately, who you are, is never fixed—it’s never a definite thing. But it’s just so damned alluring: to reduce yourself to a self-defined generalization. It’s easier to interpret the world from this vantage point, but I don’t want to do this because, when I do change, I will once again be lost. I’d rather figure things out—figure myself out and be done with it—find a system for dealing with perpetual re-self-discovery that works.

Vore the People By the People

I’m continually amazed and disheartened at how willingly—how unthinkingly—FauxNews conservatives and conservatives in general allow themselves to swallow whole the bullshit rhetoric of the Right. They can’t see that their beloved candidates aren’t serving their interests—the interests of the common man--but their own interests, which are largely determined by which group of corporate lobbyists is paying them the most money to in turn broadcast the interests of the corporation to the masses. And, of course, the politicians themselves don’t care, since they’re all disgustingly rich ivy-league blowhards. They do this little act (they all do it) where they strut around, pretending to be war heroes or common proletariats with real American values and no one bats an eye—not just the people being duped by this little charade, but people on both sides. We let them get away with it because: “that’s just politics” and part of appealing to as many voters as possible is being totally disingenuous and fake. And I’m not just upset that they’re being fake. I’m upset, too, because it’s become acceptable for politicians, on either side, to be fake. Dems are just as guilty. Look at Obama’s awkwardly calculated use of the word “folks”—a word he’s all too eager to use at any opportunity as a means of appealing to what he no doubt perceives to be common folks. Because…that’s what we call ourselves, right? Folks.

I’m just sick of this stupid game. I want to vote for real people. Not actors playing their parts poorly. Too much attention is devoted to the public face of politicians and not enough to actual politics. Politicians have become celebrities. I’m sure they always were—because they’re so visible. But they’re not being celebrated or recognized for the things they should be recognized for. Instead: we get smear campaigns and gossip.

The war between conservatives and liberals has always seemed to me equitable on a frighteningly uncanny level to the week-to-week feuds between the good guys and heels in professional wrestling. The story line rarely changes all that much and the characters are two-dimensional. There was even a wrestler however many years ago who was a villain because his character was a Muslim. And it’s funny because: THAT SAME FUCKING LOGIC works in politics. Muslims are bad. Christians are good. Etc. Etc.

I should probably qualify that last comparison between the WWE and present-day politics to say that it’s most often (and by that I mean: always) presented this way by the Right. Liberals sometimes engage in perpetuating this petty storyline, but it’s usually as a reaction to Right-wing name-calling and other trifling nonsense.

Partisan issues aside: I really think it’s time for America to re-think why we value the things we do and why we vote for candidates and what they do for us—and I mean, really do for us, because I was listening to a news story on NPR on the way home from work that said that the GOP hopefuls in this year’s election have all run on a similar platform—they all have a similar strategy which is to cut federal funding for education and welfare and keep taxes where they are (partly, I’m guessing, because of the Norquist agreement and partly, too, because if they raise taxes for us they’d have to raise taxes for themselves and God knows the Republic of the 0.01% [that’s an actual figure of what percentile GOP frontrunner and Mr. Middle American Values Mit Romeny fits into] don’t want that). They’re doing this because they claim it will balance the budget. Of course, raising taxes on the filthy rich to a level that’s fair and comparable to Middle-Class taxes would also be a solution but that’s obviously not going to happen.

The whole thing is upsetting because so many FauxNews viewers see this crap—they actively witness these super-fake politicians who obviously do not represent working-class interests spew a bunch of feel-good pro-America bullshit as a way to mask their ulterior motive, which is to make the rich richer and the poor poorer, and they don’t even question it. Worse, they accept it. They’re being brainwashed (can you even call it that since they choose to listen to Rush Limpdick and watch FauxNews?) into sacrificing things which benefit them (welfare, education, equal taxes for the rich) because that’s exactly what political faces (the candidates themselves) want.

I remember when I was a kid my sister and I used to argue over who got the front seat when our mom or dad picked us up from the babysitter. We both agreed that sitting up front was a good thing. But I eventually was able to convince my sister that the backseat was better. I told her all the advantages to sitting in the back. I told her it was roomier. I tried to make it seem like the cool choice to sit in the backseat. Whenever our parents picked us up, I’d say: Oh, you can have the front. I like the back, so I’m going to sit back there. So, it took some time, but I eventually succeeded in tricking her into forfeiting the front seat to me, in spite of how she really felt, in spite of her previous notion that the front seat was a desirable place to sit. The same thing I feel is happening with FauxNews. They’ve tricked their audience into believing what’s good for them is really bad and vice versa.

A guy I work with has three jobs now but swears by the capitalist system of free enterprise and personal autonomy as it relates to making money. He faults the current President for the bad economy and sees no irony in holding down three jobs—two of which he complains about constantly because they’re just part-time jobs to make ends meet—even though he professes to believe in an America where anyone can do anything they want and make buttloads of money. Well, why isn’t he doing something he’s passionate about? “Oh, man. It’s the economy. Once we get this damned moron out of office, things will start to pick back up.” And why does he believe this? Because FauxNews told him to believe it. They also convinced him that—no joke—Obamacare is bad because it’s a socialist program and socialists are EVIL (what is this? 1950?) and that Planned Parenthood uses government money for abortions. Also: that Obamacare pays for abortions. I actually traced the origins of the latter claim to former GOP contender Michelle Bachmann, who, as per usual, has absolutely no fucking idea what’s she’s talking about and is citing nothing but what she wants to believe is true.

So…what the fuck ever. I'm done ranting. For now.

vore

The past two weeks or so have been especially brutal. I haven’t felt able to express myself creatively. I also haven’t felt…like myself. I can think of several possible factors: I’ve been smoking way too much, haven’t been sleeping consistently and I’ve exposed myself to too many different people and types of content, so I’m having trouble processing it all and finding myself in the chaos of voices and experiences and sensations.

The latter was part of my resolution this year—which I just so happened, incidentally, to make at the beginning of the year, though it wasn’t a conscious decision to make a New Year’s resolution. My plan was to not allow myself to turn someone down if they wanted to hang out—unless I was already A.) doing something with someone else, in which case, I had to tell them that we could hang out later when I was done doing the other thing with the other person B.) if I was at work or C.) if I was sleeping. There’s a stipulation with the last one because I used to, before I made this resolution, sleep anytime I could. I didn’t have a set sleeping schedule because I work third-shift and it’s impossible to keep to a consistent schedule when you work third-shift. However: around the time I made this resolution, I also decided that I was going to sleep at a certain time and for a certain amount of hours and if I couldn’t sleep within the allotted time-frame, then I had to stay up. Of course: I still sleep irregularly, but I’ve gotten better about not indulging every opportunity, no matter how tempting, I get to nap. Because of this and because I’m out and about doing stuff all the time: I feel completely drained. My friends always want to do stuff. My sister, too. And because I won’t allow myself to say “no,” because I feel that I need to get out of the apartment and actually interact with people and be active and social, I go along with whatever they want me to do. There have been some perks: I’ve met some people (people through friends), that I otherwise would have never met and I’ve had experiences I would have otherwise never have had—all in the span of less than a month, mind you. But the toll it’s taken on my mind and on my creativity doesn’t make the trade-off seem worth it.

I’ve gotten better at talking to people—saying what I need to say when I need to say it in terms of glib water-cooler type banter, but I don’t feel like it’s made me a happier person. I still have “deep” talks with friends sometimes, but I don’t feel that I’m at my best, after being worn down by so many frivolous conversations and experiences, to participate in these conversations or offer anything profound. I can feel the same areas of my brain being activated but all too often I can’t seem to think of anything to say—or, if I do, it comes out in a sort of fragmented less-than-confident stream—not at all like it used to be. I think, because before, these were the only types of conversations I had with people—unless I was goofing off or riffing on something with them, which also happened pretty frequently. I had time to sit at home and think about stuff—stuff I’d read, seen or heard; stuff I’d been thinking about on my own. But, now, I get this feeling like I’m getting ahead of myself—trying to do too much at once. So, I don’t really stop to think about anything—unless it’s how sad I am because I can’t express myself—or I don’t think I can express myself like I used to.

So, what’s the solution? I don’t know. I really don’t. I need to get out and do things and maintain my relationships with people but it’s so hard for me. And I know I’m not one of those people, no matter how much I value my privacy, who can live for days cooped up in their apartment or parents’ basement trolling the Internet because they don’t need people. I feel like this is a very autistic kind of behavior and I’m only half-autistic. I love being alone and doing stuff by myself. Like I said: I love my privacy. And, sure, I am kind of a hermit. But there are times where I feel so alone and lonely and I know it’s because I don’t get out enough and spend time with people and maintain friendships. I only agree to do things when it’s convenient for me—when I absolutely can’t stand being in my own brain anymore and I feel like I need to immerse myself in society again. But, like my sleep schedule, I can’t keep it consistent. I can’t even find a good balance: alone-time vs. friend and family and people-time

I also feel really bad right now—super tragically sad—about this recent break-up. I spent this last year defining myself by Kristen and our conversations and I learned a lot because she was able to offer me pretty good insights into my character. I got used to it, though—to always having her around to talk to. And I didn’t realize until now how happy that made me—how genuinely great it was to have her around anytime I needed or wanted to talk about something. Even when we weren’t talking, just being able to walk out of the bedroom anytime I wanted and wrap my arms around her and be affectionate—it was great. And now I’m suddenly cut off from that and it fucking sucks. I’ve thought about dating other people but I’m not ready. Kristen and I haven’t been together for a little over a month but it would still feel like I was cheating on her. Or, maybe it would just feel wrong—like I was admitting to myself that it’s officially over.

I hate that I was able to feel so connected to someone at a time in my life when I wasn’t ready to feel connected to someone. I still have some growing up to do—some things to figure out before I can be confident in who I am and the path I want to be on. And it sucks that I don’t have this shit already figured out—that I couldn’t’ have found Kristen at a time when I had a secure job and I knew what I wanted to do with my life and who I was. I thought I knew this stuff before. But I think it changes when you put yourself in different environments—there is no constant “you.” After my last break-up, I was living with my parents and gradually re-building relationships I’d lost because my ex didn’t like me hanging around my friends. It took a while, but I eventually got back on track with everyone—and I made some new friends, too. I got used to hanging out with these people, working at FedEx and living with my parents. I was also going to school at the time. So I knew who I was—relative to that time and the things I was doing at that time. But, now, I’m out of school, I’m all alone, I’m too proud to ask my parents for anything and I’m still adjusting to this next phase of my adult life. It’s just nerve-wracking because I can see how this goes: I spend however long it takes getting used to something, then everything changes and I have to get used to that. And there’s no cop-out—there’s no Zen shortcut. I can’t just reject change—because change happens (forgive me for sounding like a high school Pothead philosoph) regardless of whether or not you’re ready for it. So, I have no choice but to adapt to change. And, jeezus krist, that’s easier said than done. It’s always been hard for me, which is why I’m one of the most nostalgic motherfuckers I’ve ever met. But I do think the more I get out and the more I expose myself to change and new situations, etc., the more adept I’ll be at a adapting (how’s that for some Shakespeare-level punning?).

I just hate that you have to participate in this never-constant series of events, always re-learning who you are and where you fit in, even when you feel smarter than it. It’s kind of the way I feel about punk music and punk culture. I’ve always envied the kids who were part of that scene—because they were the ones getting laid and doing drugs and doing super-cool and rebellious things, but I knew I was too smart for it. I knew that their identities, not to sound like an elitist, could be purchased at Hot Topic and that they needed each other to shape their beliefs—about politics, society, everything. Perhaps the hardest thing to overlook was how false their sense of community and everything that community stood for was when weighed against the original punks, who were also, all things considered, kind of disingenuous in what they professed vs. what they did. How can a movement be founded on the idea of personal and social freedom—how can a movement be so outwardly opposed to conformity and still conform to a mass herd-like set of tropes and customs and acceptable behaviors? That’s what always bothered me about punk as a concept and I was never able to overcome it and just swallow my pride and jump in—starting flailing about in the moshpit, so to speak, not caring that I was a walking contradiction and anyone could see it.

I think that’s what appealed to me about the hardcore kids at my school—as few as they were. I was friends with them, but I never went to the parties or shows consistently because I’d get this feeling like: What the fuck am I doing? These kids don’t have anything figured out. They’re living in a fantasy world—they’ve completely taken and made a mockery of everything punk was because they’re just imitating the identities of their favorite corporate-sponsored punk tour bands w ho are so transparently making music for the wrong reasons or posing and posturing as punks to look “cool.” Anyway: I feel the same way about participating in so many petty staples of living—right down to the way I can call out certain situations and things as four-chord facsimiles of things before them and things before that and on down the line. I just see it as futile: to actually care about anything. Because it’s all been done before. The joke gets recycled ad infinitum and I know the punchline, so what’s the fucking point? Why do I want to hear it again? This might be a sign that I’m a cynical asshole (Goddam, that was a good episode of South Park), but it’s how I feel and it’s how I’ve always felt.

I think that’s one of the reasons Ecclesiastes resonated so much with me: it said exactly what I needed to hear: that all is vanity and that there is nothing new under the sun. It’s a message I’ve seen before (in the works of Hesse, especially): but it still rubs me as so refreshing when I see it in a new source. Ironically: the only message—the only punchline—that I never tire of hearing. It’s so true. Everything is pointless. But part of me wonders if, because I realize this, and because I consider myself smarter than everything, shouldn’t I use that knowledge to get what I want out of life—or, at the very least, shouldn’t I use that knowledge to prevent myself from feeling depressed every time life throws me a curve ball? Maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am—I’m not as smart as everything. But I know what I want and I know what I need but I can’t trust others to be on the same page as me. I would have been delighted to continue my relationship with Kristen. I really did and still do, unfortunately, love her. But she wasn’t willing to wait around for me to figure shit out. And I don’t blame her. I can’t imagine living with myself—I hate it sometimes, even. So: I know why she left. And I knew I couldn’t expect her to stick around forever (because you can’t expect that or anything from anyone), but it still hurt like hell when she left—and it just continues to hurt like hell, only getting worse and worse each day. But why?

I wish I didn’t need people so much. But it’s the only way I can feel fulfilled—having real conversations and real experiences with people. I have to commit to it too. I can’t just appreciate people objectively. I mean, I can. But I don’t get much satisfaction out of only doing that and not diving in myself and exchanging information. I have to get my soul dirty with the stink of human interaction or else I don’t feel like I’m myself. But it sucks because the more I invest in people A.) the more it hurts when I don’t have them around anymore and B.) the harder it is for me to recover when I’ve entered a new phase of my life, trying to move my former self along like a dead dog on a leash. It’s a balancing act and I feel like it’s awkward for everyone. I’m always changing so if I knew a person at one stage in my life I feel like they expect me to still be that same person—so there’s a pressure to perform, to meet their expectations and then I can no longer be myself because I’m trying to be myself, which is just weird and unnatural.

I kind of wish I was one of those people who never really change or grow. They’re the same people in every situation, year-to-year. Consistently, I exhibit certain traits. If you were able to graph it, you could probably see frequent trends in behavior and traits—what adds up to my essential personality—but I don’t feel, internally, like I’m ever one person for long. I feel like there is a long-running streak that shows up throughout all phases of my life, but I don’t know what it takes to really pinpoint that essential quality and summon it at will.

It’s easy to say: don’t over-think it. Just be yourself. But that never works. I’m always being exposed to new people and my mind is always changing about things. Plus: I have a goddam nightmare of a psychosis which makes me deathly afraid of change.

I think I just need to find my footing—get used to the new arrangement—the new routine in my life before I can start to feel like “myself” again. I just hope it comes soon, because I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this crap.