there is no place for the spirit:
the body rejects it
and the wilderness hides it.
William S. Burroughs: A Man Within (documentary) - “The all-American de-anxietized man” or, as the documentary makers pose: the extremely anxious and lonely gay American man.
i think of people in terms of frequency, like that of audio frequency. i measure them in hertz.
Crispin Glover is one of the only actors I can shamelessly say that I love. However, he is no longer doing big films. Now-a-days he is working on his own film company Volcanic Eruptions.
the extent of my impassioned dancing abilities is demonstrated here indirectly.
more tumblr less time
I have, possibly detrimentally so, another tumblr. It is:
http://biszumkollaps.tumblr.com/
The name of the blog, “bis zum kollaps” translates from German as “until collapse” (fittingly), and the phrase is sourced from this song (how neo-modernist / postmodern of me).
Why? I wanted to be a stereotypical tumblr blogger (and as Patrick Bateman would say, “I just want to fit in!”) and to reblog everything I find aesthetically pleasing. So, in short, my second blog showcases my aesthetic preferences as defined by other peoples’ stuff. Of course, I’m somewhat covert and sneak in my own pictures from time to time.
This current tumblr blog (the one you’re looking at and hopefully following) I leave for purely personal things… where I actually use my brain to some marginal extent. I’m thinking the “voice” of this post seems very unappealing (now I’m being all meta… how postmodern of me).
End.
The complete 1/2 Mensch film, starring Einstürzende Neubauten. For higher quality versions of some of the songs performed in the film click here.
The Century of the Self
This documentary is a good four hours. How we appeal to ideas of the self to control people is essentially the premise of the documentary. I like to find things that reaffirm my cynicism, apparently.
Part 2: http://youtu.be/q34M5jKlx_0
Part 3: http://youtu.be/xwRiYOWcYHk
Part 4: http://youtu.be/RqeMYjbNkaE
Boards of Canada - Everything You Do is a Balloon
In a really strange, allegorical way, this video / music combo is pretty much how I feel about life [excuse my triteness and keep reading, or don’t; at least watch the video].
Interestingly, the original video (a bicycle safety video from 1963) seems to suggest that loneliness is a sign of success, of doing the right thing, and thus one has access to all resources and can reap the full reward (as the boy in the beginning is the only non-monkey, follows bicycle rules seriously, and as a result is the only surviving member of his entourage, and thus has access to all of their lunches). The original video takes a very individualistic stance on life. Of course, one could easily say that is all bullshit.
This re-cut video (recontextualized into the present through the usage of Boards of Canada’s music) seems to reveal the inherent sadness and self-reflectivity in loneliness, whether in its literal end-point manifestation (when all your friends are dead), or in the midst of your once-living friends, who recklessly go about life with no sincere concern for anyone or anything other than themselves. The video may even suggest a sort of solipsist mentality, that even the projections of our minds (suggested by the kids with monkey masks, implying their “incompleteness” as real, identifiable humans) are unknown to us, that we only know our own thoughts and feelings, and all these projections run separate and independent of us, that even the “almighty single consciousness” cannot console itself.
This isn’t an “official” video for the electronic group Boards of Canada…. but the music and video fit together unusually well, perfectly, in fact.
all personality is lost here. in other news: studies are complete (for now); what next?
i’m going home. i outdrank myself some nights ago. not a drop is left, and i will dry my bones for the night. the third floor hallway stinks of tv dust, that kind of thick fuzz that floats into your head when the tube is lit and humming. smells like a culmination of selves, so many mixed without regard it almost smells of death. i often question the rot that I intuit hides beneath the carpet.
