I'm just a little person (Peroni)

I used to carry around a ship that was built inside me. I could not get it out. And then I met you. But even then, sometime later there was a germination of sorts. I achieved the extraordinary ability to dismantle my stowaway, plank by plank, and carry it out to the water-hot streets; and to the farms of spit and smoke; and to the cigarette-sandwich-eating burlap-bodies on corners whose hands are pushed into last pockets; and to frost-bitten cars in lonely lots where some tears stream for a reason or for none; and to a cliché we’ve seen once or twice, shook hands with or wanted to make love to. My greenhouse gas personality dissipates; the sun beams touch my blues and greens and browns; the radiation is a gorgeous and miraculous feat. The buoyancy of a blink is the tick and the tock. 

But shivering on the porch of the little dipper: thinking on a myth. 

"Somewhere, maybe someday. Maybe somewhere far away...Let's have some fun."

Happy New Year

Last Lines For Today

This song is really beautiful. 

If you choose to listen to this 

and watch the accompanying 

images, imagine finding those 

models in a dimly lit basement 

with wood paneling walls and a 

corner of the room has tennis 

shoes in it.

No socks near by. Just tennis shoes. 

Things are always tacitly creepier 

when links in the chain of reason are absent. 

No socks. Just shoes. Some old. Some new.

It's the perfect tune for

a porch under

Spanish Moss, gritting

at the sand in

your teeth

Let's Go To Cuba

"Currently, the National Lawyers Guild and the Center for Constitutional Rights provide legal representation for U.S. citizens accused of violating the Cuban travel ban." -- wikiTravel


Who's ready to go to Cuba? I know I am. And we better go soon before President Obama does the smart thing and clears travel restrictions. Why?

1. McDonald's, KFC, Pizza Hut, etc.

That shit is going to be EVERYWHERE once trade and travel bans are lifted. Not only are the fast food chains going to move in, but Hilton and Hard Rock will buy up beautiful hotels and restaurants and make eye sores out of them. Of course this is just a symptom of the larger problem of commercialization that would plague the island.

2. Tons of other tourists

They're going to be in the way. You're going to hear them complaining about the food. You're going to hear them being condescending to people in the service industry. Your fellow Americans will be there, increasing the volume and decreasing the speed of their English with the great expectation the hotel staff will understand their request/demand.

3. It won't be a sneaky mission

Currently, U.S. citizens have to sneak their way into Cuba by flying from Canada, Mexico or the Bahamas. My aunt would call this "going around your ass to get to your elbow." There is an added thrill to this sort of adventure that would transcend the place itself.

Other projections for a post-Obamafied Cuba?

• Everyone in America starts smoking Cuban cigars as if the one's from Cuba do not possess the same qualities that keep folks from smoking cigars normally.
• Cuban culture-worship enjoys a spike in white, hipster communities leading to an unintentionally-ironic decline of Che Guavara paraphernalia and more Conga-themed acoustic folk-rock albums.
  
• El Pollo Loco rebrands itself as a Cuban Cusine fast-food chain and begins selling empanadas and plantains (kinda can't wait for this one, yall).

What else might happen if the U.S. ceases to be a dick to Cuba?

Build a better metaphor

I had a moment of synchronicity last night when I was watching Mtv's "The Hills" when Audrina said, "I just don't like who I've become. I don't even know who I am anymore." I laughed at first because claims of "not knowing myself" always seem like empty ploys to garner pity from others and to deflect fault from one’s self for the state of unhappiness. Nevertheless, it came to my attention that I have been feeling the same way. It's totally one of those David Byrne moments where I am thinking, “how did I get here” and I am just not sure how to work this. If it wasn't for ‘this’ or ‘that’ I might garnish more of my time with champagne and indie films in small theaters that smell of old cigarettes and hairspray and popcorn mingling with the faintest perfume of a curry someone has snuck in. But what would we be without wishful thinking?

But enough of the bad. I have been writing comedy. I bought some index cards and I tell myself I have to fill up one a day. It's a manageable task. And while it may seem small, it's better than rarely filling up two notebook pages of material. I should get my license back in a couple weeks and then I will be trying out my awesomely terrible material in LA. Sometimes I feel like my material is really bad, but it seems like I do best around strangers. For instance, I had some strangers at the DMV rolling about doing a whiskey bong and having a homeless hold the funnel for me. The whiskey bong does not sound funny on paper, at least not to me. But you had to be there. And that’s a hallmark of mine: feeding off a crowd of people and their expectations. “Here we are now, entertain us” is how I think of most strangers. They’re not really asking to be entertained, but I want them to be. Perhaps “here I am now, allow me to entertain you” is a better way of putting it.

I am trying to have patience. I have a plan. I can see the future unfolding before me and it is methodical; it is encumbered by its vices: it is prevailing despite them before the alt(a)(e)r of its humanity. Like grass growing in the brick crags of vacant office space, I offer myself up in part to chance and to the sun; to the mettle of my minerals (found and forgetting); to evening and to Death, who is waiting in every shadow: reveling likewise in our every laugh.

Love y'all,

The Anthonynaut

Wayne's World; or The End of Personal Sacrifice

Wayne's World is a blueprint for the just-pre-celeblog character type. 

But let's back up a bit: 

In the 90's, the huge moral conflict with grunge/alternative/indie culture had much to do with "selling out." This is nowhere more apparent than with Kurt Cobain. One of the driving forces for Cobain's depression and eventual suicide was the knowledge that his art and lifestyle were being used to peddle t-shirts, CDs, TV ads on MTV, etc. 

It was while watching Wayne's World that I realized that Wayne's central conflict is very similar. Both Wayne's TV show and Casandra's band are organic art forms, uninformed by commercial motives or profit. The paradox being that of course Wayne and Casandra want the money for their work, but not the accompanying corporate "sleeze". 

In their own neighborhood, Wayne and Garth exist in a veritable Garden of Eden that is the birthplace of their creative genius; the location of the wombish basement where their show comes to fruition, protected from the money hungry Benjamin.  And it is out on the street while playing hockey that Garth remarks, "I don't think Benjamin is one of us." And he's not just talking about Benjamin's lack of love for hole-riddled, acid wash jeans and open flannel shirts. 

Benjamin is offering them money for their art, and then some. The same things asked of Kurt: let use your art as a tire on the consumption vehicle and we'll give you some of our returns. 

Obviously this is sort of a bleak picture. But it struck me that it seems this moral conflict no longer exists. Whether it be the fashion designers on project runway who come to the show with their own brand of design, their own ideas, an organic sense of fashion and a raw talent; or writers in the blogosphere receiving huge sums in their Paypal accounts. 

Something must have happened between Wayne's World and Web 2.0.

My theory is that the idea of celebrity, fame, notoriety and money have all come to be seen differently in 2008 than it was over 16 years ago when Mike Meyers and Dana Carvey played out the central conflict bearing down on late-80's/90's alternative culture. 

Is it that the web has made celebrity and wealth self-attainable/sustainable and therefore not as evil? Surely with this angle, one makes one's own fame; does not sell one's art to Pepsi or Doritos. But to make the big bucks, one still has to put up banners for American Apparel, some blog haus bands., etc. However, these ads get attention from people who choose to view them and are not a requisite component of one's participation in the art. 

The main difference between Wayne & Co. and those in the contemporary alt-culture sphere is that celebrity has made its way into the realm of consumables. Whereas Wayne could not acheive celebrity and fame and fortune without great personal sacrifice (of ethics/morals, autonomy), such is no longer necessary for a Perez Hilton, whose personal lifestyle and individuality is only further vindicated by his monetary and celeb success. 

Wayne's World, yall.  

Super Update Me

Are You Getting Your Fill at the Social Networking Buffet?

How organized do you have to be to use all these social networking tools?

Twitter, Facebook and Myspace status updates seem like a hassle to me. Especially if you let yourself and your narcissistic web of friends ossify into a dysfunctional reaction chain whereby everyone in your life needs to know what you’re doing, where you’re going, who you’re with. 

No one cares if you’re on your way to Walmart to buy socks. If you can Twitter your way out of prison, well great. The same concept behind Morgan Spurlock’s Supersize Me! could be put to work to examine what is at stake in these so-called social networking tools.

After 30 days of attempting to catalog your every move from the daily ‘im wakin up’ to the even-more-mundane ‘goin p’ I think that a more apt name would surface: Social Corralling tool. 

Of course, few of us do this. Nobody eats McDonalds three times a day, every day. But some insist on letting THE INTERNETZ know:

a) they're out

b) ‘bikin 2 get a Starbuck’ 

c) and ‘call me on my cell’ ← USELESS  

RE: C)

"oh yeah, Ed McMahon and the Prize Patrol were going to swing by your apartment, but you had text-posted to Twitter saying you were 'waitin in line @ Sonograms R Us' or "Well their Facebook status for the night of the murder is a sound alibi: there they were at the book store reading up on how to make their wardrobe more Steam Punk."

All I am saying is that if I had the funds, I would be making a documentary where I showcase myself posting status updates every time I do anything, with the exception of homeostasis...but if that's all I was doing for an extended period of time (like for more than 45 minutes) my post would say: 'still breathin, y'all.'

Hiatus

Not that anyone reads this, but I was away for a week at a family reunion in the considerably-less-sunny (than Southern California) Florida Panhandle where my immediate family resides.

While there I was afforded the opportunity to ruminate on the film Hancock that I saw the day before my departure. It struck me while drinking Nicaraguan rum in a park with my good friend that the arc of Will Smith's character follows a trail blazed by the post-pubescent antics of child stars like the 'the Two Coreys', Lindsay Lohan, to a lesser extent Paris Hilton and etc. 

There are a few moments that situate Hancock as a celebrity: 

1) Widely popular YouTube clips that document his various feats of superhuman strength

- there is a threshold for YouTube hits after which one is deemed a demi-celeb.

2) Regular coverage of his antics on the nightly news

- surely reminiscent of the celeb-journalism that occurs on the CNNs and FOX News channels. Not to mention TMZ.com's tv show and Entertainment Tonight. 

3) The 'aha' moment for me was perhaps the massive audience that turns out to witness Hancock turn himself over to prison authorities, vowing to stay in prison and serve his time. And the content of the speech he gives as he surrenders. He says (paraphrasing): "I know I have been somewhat of a burden on the city. It's difficult for me, considering I am the only one of my kind."

His argument places the blame for his actions on his exalted state. It's not his fault, it's because he's usually wasted because he can't cope with being a superhuman. And so to atone, he is going to put himself through rehab: an institution that has taken on a life of its own over the past 2-3 years. Michael Richards uses racial slurs: rehab fixed that. And Celebrity Rehab, the VH1 ratings powerhouse shows everyone how spilling one's guts for ten whole episodes can win one the graces once revoked by friends and family. 

Of course, Smith's Hancock learns his lessons much earlier and to much more benefit than the run-of-the-mill child star/has been whose lesson only ever comes too late in their career for it to result in a symbiotic relationship between them and their fans/friends/family. Hancock realizes the error of his miscreant ways and attempts to realign himself with the police and to weave gracefully back into the social fabric are successful enough for him to obtain hero status.

...not that that's what the movie is all about. It's not as bad as the reviews make it sound. 

MySpace: The Post 9/11 40-Acres-and-a-Mule

"In Cyberspace all positive properties are externalized in the sense that everything you are in a positive sense, all your features can be manipulated. When one plays in virtual space I can for example be a homosexual man who pretends to be a heterosexual woman, or whatever: either I can build a new identity for myself or in a more paranoiac way, I am somehow already controlled, manipulated by the digital space." - from the 'About Me' section of the MySpace of Slavoj Zizek

It is in the spirit of this (supposed) Zizek quote that I consider the MySpace headline as the post-9/11 epitaph: It is both an introduction to a 'hyper-You' and an epitaph for your analog-Self.

To further explain what I am saying (and to provide some much needed entertainment in this so-far dry post), here is yet more Zizek. Pay attention to what he says here about the Matrix the computer component in The Matrix) as a generator of fictions:

Thus the myspace headline becomes a declaration of your hyper-you: the digital layer in the palimpsest of the system of fictions that constitute the reality of your being.

Advocate For Me: Celebrities in Translation

Little Richard is the best example of why celebrities are needed in the day to day communication process. It's the emphasis that he adds to the (what's her name?) 'Real Customer' experience: an emphasis that would look and sound absurd coming from...well, anyone who is not a celebrity.

I would really like to see the Hamburglar get in on that action. I imagine a single mother at a McDonalds with kids playing in a ball pit behind her. As she recounts how five-year-old Jackie lost her daddy, the jail-striped and be-caped Hamburglar sits with the mom at one of those metal picnic tables, shaking his head and doling out a mournful "rubble-rubble" or two--all with that big-cheeked, uni-toothed smile:


Why do Geico's commercials work? Is it the ultra-irony waves radiating from the likes of Charo and Michael Winslow with their has-been status? It's nice to see that the guy from Police Academy is still a human soundboard. But the question I ask myself is how does a celebrity help me understand the plight of my neighbor. Better still is the commentary of the celeb-obsessed train of thought Pop is focused on: If it doesn't involve celebrities, then it matters a little less.

Doesn't the commercial subtly spoof the work celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Oprah, Jay-Z, Sean Penn and Bono are doing as publicists for the plight of the world's less fortunate? It does.

"I need a celebrity advocate for my bourgeois struggle to overcome the inconveniences of automobile ownership! Thanks, Little Richard."