Size + Numbers

The problem is really just one of size and number. Who is to say that a car (even a hummer) is not as amazing, as awe inspiring, as a birds nest? In fact most human technology elicits disdain these days. But we just make to much. We have to much, and we are to large a species for it to go uncapped. Eliminate the poles of want and need and we shall find our situation fast improving.

Shit Talking the World Behind its Back: Truism Vs. Cholak Vs. Gauck

A documented chat between myself and two of my closest friends. This is from nearly a year ago. Many of the frustrations are the same, many of the points still valid, many of the false assumptions still present. This is a far cry from the truth. It’s a far cry from coherent. What it is is an audio snapshot of a time in our lives when nothing is certain, and everything is oppositional. Right before you accept the fact that you can’t burn this Earth down.

the Heartbeat of Human History

"It is history what makes a human; not a heartbeat."

To the best of my knowledge, this is a quote from myself, from earlier this evening.

In a Wolf's Eye

Wolf Eyes Part 1


Wolf Eyes Part 2


This interview with the band Wolf Eyes is all the way back from last November, but I never really put it up. It was my opinion that nothing terribly interesting came of it, but I guess some people might be interested in this stuff. Noise rock is still kind of the hot ticket around town, although fun and dance is making a comeback. I'm personally not very enthusiastic about either iteration of self-indulgence, but hey, whatever makes you sweat right?

The band was fun to chat with though, and the Article was eventually published in last year's December issue of Thirsty. They have some video up to go along with the article.

Here's what I had to say at the time:

In the future all anyone will listen to is extreme noise music. This is, of course, if the future ends up anything like Neal Stephenson's book "Snow Crash."

Until the other night I would have found a future filled with personal nuclear devices, deliverators, metaverses, and extreme noise pop the work of mere fantasy, but thanks to Second Life and Wolf Eyes, Snow Crash might not be so far off the mark after all. We're still a far cry from 13 year olds sof the future helving their equivalent Justin Timberlakes and Maria Carreys , but the disenchanted twenty somethings have found their new fix.

It's strange to catch such a clear glimpse. Wolf Eyes finished up their latest US Tour with Sub Pop Records last month at the Empty Bottle. The usual band of black enshrouded youths came out to see the show, but the people who turn out to Wolf Eyes are different than you might expect.

How can you do better than one type of music that apparently satiates all urges simultaneously? I have never seen so many reactions to music (you know, dancing) in one place, and I was at the 1993 Indianapolis Culture Fest baby! There was: headbanging, moshing, booty-shaking, struttin, the new-wave shake, pogoing, convulsions, you name it, it was happening to the tune of squeeling feedback, pounding bass, and hemorrhaging screams.

Talk to Wolf Eyes about it and they will just tell you they do what they do. Maybe that is what it will take to propel us into the future; everyone just doing what they do, and pouring their guts into it.

I still feel pretty much the same way about it. So you know, that past has been revised slightly. If you care, it's your own problem. The re-re-re-released Blade Runner didn't they?

Public Sex

So I've come to terms with something. This isn't about anything. This isn't the truth, and this isn't life. I'm just making public an ongoing argument I'm having with myself. An argument that will never be over, because I will never win, and I will never know what I'm talking about. I am look forward to knowing less though. Tune in or out at your leisure. I'll be around cursing myself to the high heavens; trying to milk the necessary inspiration from the cracks of the Earth so I can go on living. The only advice I will ever give is this: find out what makes you want to live. That is all. If you never find it, well then you'll be dead soon anyway, and you can stop fretting. Good night.

Our Little Efforts

It's funny to me, the little attempts us "bloggers" make to keep our sites going. To keep getting "pinged", and keep accumulating those page hits. We're just junkies for recognition. Some of us/ them/ whatever have a real voice, but the rest of us are busy expending our energy on something that doesn't amount to any more than hanging around a big fucking water cooler. For some of us, the pay off is even less direct than that, because some of us (like me) can go for years and not hear a single damn thing from a single damn soul. The fact is that most of us are just floating around in the dark; clueless as to how to approach honesty, or truth, or accurately convey even our own desires. Is this for anyone, or just for us? Does it help us sleep at night, or it is just another manifestation of one of humanities most pronounced manias: to be connected. There is also the compulsive element of tracking the page hits as they come in. The sense of accomplishment we feel when 6 people in one day stumbled through our URL; which says nothing to the extent that they actually read, or thought about anything we had to say. They were just here. Customers walking into your store (as many as 5 in a day) but none of them buying a damn thing. It's like self-validating by bumping into people on the street. I say all of this now because I look back at my own little corner of the increasingly broad, complex, and angular internet, and I just see an attempt to milk relevance. The last month has been filler. Plain and simple. I'm a cad. I'm a coward. Or maybe I have been thinking, but I haven't felt that any other part of existence need have anything to do with me. That's how it is, right? We're all in this alone, and no blog, no zine, no book, no record, will pull us out of our own voids. I don't know what I am doing, or why at this point, but energy is flaking off of me daily, and sometimes it might take the form of words. WORDS...

Crispin Glover is Fine, Everything is Fine!

Second Interview I’ve conducted with Crispin Glover. This one following the viewing of the second film of his “It Trilogy, “It is Fine, Everything is Fine!”

The screenplay was written, and the film stars the late Steven C. Stewart, who was afflicted with cerebral palsy. He wrote himself into somewhat of a fantasy where he indulges a hair fetish, graphic sex, and murder. An incredibly challenging film to watch, but one that is very rewarding because it presupposes that the audience is capable of dealing with complex issues and emotions.

An even more thorough report can be found at Thirsty Media.

Link to older interview with Crispin about his first film, "What is It?"

Late Night Quotations: Poetry

"A poem must be a debacle of the intellect. It cannot be anything but."

-Andre' Breton