Just Say Yes

It’s true…acid just sort of comes to you. And it’s always as a result of the larger machinations of the things that make you ‘you’. You see, the acid market resists fads and cool. It can not even be deemed a "market" as there is no bankable supply and no sure demand. That and too few are interested in what acid does. It is the existentialist’s drug and too many just seek to belong [via Animal Collective or Pizza or kiffeyehs]

I might be wrong [via thommy yorke], but no one plans on doing acid. You just get a call from someone you used to hang out with: they got deep into H and/or became goth…whatever…anyway, they call you on a boring thursday and ask you if you want to get some acid. Always say yes.

Activity

1.Oh a lack of evidence of activity here.


2. Keeping analog notes for the moment. They tend to not translate as well. Then again (and maybe a reader or two will find this to be true) some thoughts require a specific medium through which to be expressed. I have this yellow legal pad (I've received one of these at every job I've had over the past year) and it's blank pages have been asking me the best questions as of late.

3. "It's in your nature to destroy yourselves" - the Terminator

Watching T2 reveals 20-year-old assumptions about cigarette usage, Cool (with a capital 'C') and notions of good and evil. Part of the movie was filmed just down the road in Fontana and then more was filmed in the other direction in Victorville.

Anyway, this was one of my favorite movies between the ages of 8 and 11. Guns and suspense had a lot to do with my positive aesthetic response as a child.

And now the Terminator is my governor. I think this is really funny. Except for the fact that my tax return is being terminated because the Governor and State Reps can't get their shit in one sock.

Too tired to be clever or creative. Just wanted to touch base.

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.