Funny to think that it's already been a month since I last sat in a bout of fun madness and wrote some kind of diatribe about the Frankfurt school, critical theory, Egypt, democracy and the internet....then Mubarak stepped down the next day. Silly.
A month of anxiety, tremendous faith and learning and wild frustration; one of the best; one of the worst; certainly one of the most confusing and personally difficult.
...and so many things are under way...
This is really beautiful:
(Score done by yours truly, our favorite Son Lux
It's been a real pleasure following all of Son Lux's 'Album in a Month project' and the documentation of the album has been wonderful.
Things are in the bustle, and this last week has been a great recovery from last week's barrage of perceived failure. I have an interview with DHA ($18/hr!) tomorrow and am optimistic about a Research Coordinator position at DU. Still pending whether I have the option to go to France in September. I'll know in about a month whether that is an option for me or not. I suppose it depends on a the outcome of prior listed in addition to a special position working for Translations Gallery--of which I am very optimistic and excited. In short, my career goals are moving closer and closer to the niche I'm looking for--time will tell how things will make themselves known....
Going to be in Albuquerque next weekend and Chicago the weekend after that. Come my return from Chicago, I'll know whether either of those job prospects come through. April 1st Jill is back in Denver (need I say FINALLY?) and then I'll hear back from TAPIF as to whether la France is willing to open her doors up to me or not. Choices, Choices, Choices!
Worlds are opening up....
10 March, 2011
10 February, 2011
Mercurial Social Engineering
A recent reading of certain aspects of The Frankfurt School, the strife in Egypt (particularly it's internet-based origins), events in Iran several months ago, and Anonymous' recent actions (articulated here)...and this as a follow up, have manifested a lovely linchpin in function, media, and thinking.
But first, let's kick it off with a good starter tune. Crank the base on this one:
Trentmøller--The Forest
The Frankfurt school--although difficult to categorize singularly--introduced a kind of Theory/Critique that centered around a questioning of how any authentically contrary critique might be conducted in the ubiquitous context of a contemporary society; or, how a sensible critique might possibly manifest from an individual embedded in society. The problematic of this embededness opened a necessary space for auto-critique from any given critic. The Frankfurt School saw mass culture as synonymous with Ideology. Additionally, the Frankfurt School examined this more specifically in light of the advent of mass-media in the early 20th century.
Worth noting as well, the Frankfurt School mediated the balance between the technical, economic, material and the manifest, symbolic and subject-effecting. This spawned out of the conflict inherent betweenMarxist/Historical Materialist and Freudian/psychoanalytic traditions wherein one argued a determinism via economics/class struggle on a molar level and the other argued determinism via the Psychodynamic forces of individuals on a molecular level. Ín rejecting the Hermeneutic tradition due to its 'fetishistic' focus on Textuality and Subjectivity, they attempted to remain grounded in the purportedly 'scientific' discourse of historical materialism whilst remaining cognizant of individual and group psychodynamics....or something like that...yeah?
In an Essay, The Culture Industry: Enlightmenment as Mass Deception which can be found in this book, Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer coined the term culture industry to describe how the processes of production of a culture are explicitly determined by the very resources and technologies of the mass media. This mass media in turn was an insidious medium under which individuals were repressed and not emancipated. The primary consequence of this was the generation of cultural homogeneity or the blurring of cultural and class distinctions by the narrowing down of individual spontaneity though the standardization of aesthetic/cultural appeal; and the consequent predictability of the masses through said standardization.
I call attention to Horkheimer/Adorno's notion of the culture industry to reveal the potentials for correctness therein; more importantly to lay bare the assumptions and straight-up inaccuracies of such a notion (as well as to lay bare that Adorno is a jerk!).
Contrary to the presumptions of the culture industry, Herbert Marcuse proposed what he called affirmative culture, a culture sought through forms of art that transcend the snobbery of traditionally cannonical forms of 'art' by defying (deliberately or not) the traditional aim of art at demonstrating technical skill or art aimed at invoking an experience of 'beauty'(?) and instead confronted its audience with the limitations and potential for control inherit in contemporary experience and augment critical possibility by placing the viewer back into his or her own resources of personal experience and consequently that of society. Here we have Marcuse's analytical left hand.
And the right:
In Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud, Marcuse responds to Freud's thesis in Civilization and its Discontents that the advancement of civilization, with the advent of more specialized labor, an increase in bureaucratic administration and more normative social conduct would result in increased psychological repression, resulting in pervasive aggression, neurosis and alienation by a more stratified and 'advanced' society. Blah, blah, blah--enforced by his theory of the instincts, etc...man is at conflict with himself in the midst of his assimilation into civilization. Yes, everyone still with me?
Marcuse took the biological drive out of Freud and argued that the potentially destructive dimensions of a more 'advanced' civilization theorized by Freud would be better understood as existing within the historical structures of a given culture, from whence can one better understand the potential for 'destructiveness'. More concretely, Marcuse drew attention to the fact that the extent of repression present in a society is directly related to the level of scarcity of a given population.
Now, Egypt and Iran, two differently similar countries caught up in a static dialectic of repression and revolt are clear examples of the principle Marcuse was talking about. Marcuse went on to discuss surplus repression(see: the Patriot Act, or any measure of the Iranian government and Mubarak) consequent of a more "modernized" society....
Because I wish not to go into Walter Benjamin, let me paraphrase:
"The development of such media as photography, sound recording and film signaled, for Benjamin, the dawn of a new epoch in the democratization of culture and hence in the revolutionary potential of the proletarian class"(Surber, 137)
Now..
If there was an immense failing of the Frankfurt School--Marcuse included--it was in their inability to identify the possibility for an item to be turned on itself....or in other words, humankind's greatest emancipator:
THE INTERNETZ
In other words, Adorno/Horkheimer's purported culture industry, one in which the tools and technologies of the media were instruments of control and repression failed to see what Benjamin saw as the "revolutionary potential for the ruling class"--seeing the potentiality of media through the lens of a controlled power-manipulator and not as a powerful tool of instantenious democratization. The internet additionally reinserts the individual/subject within his or her own social/media discourse by freeing him or her from power structures and 'leveling the playing field' so to speak...which leads me to everyone's favorite noone:
Anonymous
An instrument of terrorism? or a empty signifier signifying all and none? Or, in short, a proletarian revolution?
The shutting down of the internet in Egypt as well as the terse control of its use in Iran and China are articulations of Marcuse's connection between societal scarcity and it's consequent repression--particularly in light of a given culture's historical configurations. Additionally, maybe Marx was on to something (a somewhat latent something) when he argued that the expansion of technology under capitalism would go hand-in-hand with growing self-consciousness and ensuing political action on the part of the proletarian...but maybe he got it all wrong and the advent of humankind's greatest democratization, the internet is a demonstration that Historical Materialism missed the mark by failing to anticipate the Analog power potential of a Digital entity.
Maybe this is why Philosophy is dead: it has been imbued to the masses through an epiphenomena of a singular yet divided network or system. Is our supposed proletarian revolution an immaterial one?
What I can say however, is:
Circular Reeducation
But first, let's kick it off with a good starter tune. Crank the base on this one:
Trentmøller--The Forest
The Frankfurt school--although difficult to categorize singularly--introduced a kind of Theory/Critique that centered around a questioning of how any authentically contrary critique might be conducted in the ubiquitous context of a contemporary society; or, how a sensible critique might possibly manifest from an individual embedded in society. The problematic of this embededness opened a necessary space for auto-critique from any given critic. The Frankfurt School saw mass culture as synonymous with Ideology. Additionally, the Frankfurt School examined this more specifically in light of the advent of mass-media in the early 20th century.
Worth noting as well, the Frankfurt School mediated the balance between the technical, economic, material and the manifest, symbolic and subject-effecting. This spawned out of the conflict inherent betweenMarxist/Historical Materialist and Freudian/psychoanalytic traditions wherein one argued a determinism via economics/class struggle on a molar level and the other argued determinism via the Psychodynamic forces of individuals on a molecular level. Ín rejecting the Hermeneutic tradition due to its 'fetishistic' focus on Textuality and Subjectivity, they attempted to remain grounded in the purportedly 'scientific' discourse of historical materialism whilst remaining cognizant of individual and group psychodynamics....or something like that...yeah?
In an Essay, The Culture Industry: Enlightmenment as Mass Deception which can be found in this book, Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer coined the term culture industry to describe how the processes of production of a culture are explicitly determined by the very resources and technologies of the mass media. This mass media in turn was an insidious medium under which individuals were repressed and not emancipated. The primary consequence of this was the generation of cultural homogeneity or the blurring of cultural and class distinctions by the narrowing down of individual spontaneity though the standardization of aesthetic/cultural appeal; and the consequent predictability of the masses through said standardization.
I call attention to Horkheimer/Adorno's notion of the culture industry to reveal the potentials for correctness therein; more importantly to lay bare the assumptions and straight-up inaccuracies of such a notion (as well as to lay bare that Adorno is a jerk!).
Contrary to the presumptions of the culture industry, Herbert Marcuse proposed what he called affirmative culture, a culture sought through forms of art that transcend the snobbery of traditionally cannonical forms of 'art' by defying (deliberately or not) the traditional aim of art at demonstrating technical skill or art aimed at invoking an experience of 'beauty'(?) and instead confronted its audience with the limitations and potential for control inherit in contemporary experience and augment critical possibility by placing the viewer back into his or her own resources of personal experience and consequently that of society. Here we have Marcuse's analytical left hand.
And the right:
In Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud, Marcuse responds to Freud's thesis in Civilization and its Discontents that the advancement of civilization, with the advent of more specialized labor, an increase in bureaucratic administration and more normative social conduct would result in increased psychological repression, resulting in pervasive aggression, neurosis and alienation by a more stratified and 'advanced' society. Blah, blah, blah--enforced by his theory of the instincts, etc...man is at conflict with himself in the midst of his assimilation into civilization. Yes, everyone still with me?
Marcuse took the biological drive out of Freud and argued that the potentially destructive dimensions of a more 'advanced' civilization theorized by Freud would be better understood as existing within the historical structures of a given culture, from whence can one better understand the potential for 'destructiveness'. More concretely, Marcuse drew attention to the fact that the extent of repression present in a society is directly related to the level of scarcity of a given population.
Now, Egypt and Iran, two differently similar countries caught up in a static dialectic of repression and revolt are clear examples of the principle Marcuse was talking about. Marcuse went on to discuss surplus repression(see: the Patriot Act, or any measure of the Iranian government and Mubarak) consequent of a more "modernized" society....
Because I wish not to go into Walter Benjamin, let me paraphrase:
"The development of such media as photography, sound recording and film signaled, for Benjamin, the dawn of a new epoch in the democratization of culture and hence in the revolutionary potential of the proletarian class"(Surber, 137)
Now..
If there was an immense failing of the Frankfurt School--Marcuse included--it was in their inability to identify the possibility for an item to be turned on itself....or in other words, humankind's greatest emancipator:
THE INTERNETZ
In other words, Adorno/Horkheimer's purported culture industry, one in which the tools and technologies of the media were instruments of control and repression failed to see what Benjamin saw as the "revolutionary potential for the ruling class"--seeing the potentiality of media through the lens of a controlled power-manipulator and not as a powerful tool of instantenious democratization. The internet additionally reinserts the individual/subject within his or her own social/media discourse by freeing him or her from power structures and 'leveling the playing field' so to speak...which leads me to everyone's favorite noone:
Anonymous
An instrument of terrorism? or a empty signifier signifying all and none? Or, in short, a proletarian revolution?
The shutting down of the internet in Egypt as well as the terse control of its use in Iran and China are articulations of Marcuse's connection between societal scarcity and it's consequent repression--particularly in light of a given culture's historical configurations. Additionally, maybe Marx was on to something (a somewhat latent something) when he argued that the expansion of technology under capitalism would go hand-in-hand with growing self-consciousness and ensuing political action on the part of the proletarian...but maybe he got it all wrong and the advent of humankind's greatest democratization, the internet is a demonstration that Historical Materialism missed the mark by failing to anticipate the Analog power potential of a Digital entity.
Maybe this is why Philosophy is dead: it has been imbued to the masses through an epiphenomena of a singular yet divided network or system. Is our supposed proletarian revolution an immaterial one?
What I can say however, is:
Circular Reeducation
04 February, 2011
Fossick
"C'est assez fort d'être seul dans un lieu si immense et si insolit, où le contact ne se fait q'entre toi et les murs, et rien d'autre. Tu entres dans un monde parallèle, fermé sur toi-même. J'aimais aussi cetter idée d'un lieu éphemère. Une dernière intervention et puis tout disparaît."
Here's to Chaos:
..and contemplation? Or are they the same?
Hours in tattered cover pouring over Neuroscience, art and fashion magazines and a cup of coffee while the snow drifts down is lovely lovely way to spend a day. Meditation is in the calm whilst the mind churns some kind of vatic and menacing vision, material, concept or space?
A combination of the recent unrest in Egypt, reading of Freud and the unconscious, snow, article in Discover magazine about how the input from the internet is a change in the functionality of the brain and attention (which I tried to repost here), a skimming of this book, and the color and happenings of last night have left me twiddling upon a susurrous orb of thought. Fragmentary at best, but it's fluttering as I tap and scallop text upon the box. Here's to attempting to delineate distractions and enhance a keenness of function and focus. Intentionality? Perhaps. Direction? I would hope so. Fortified directions or just strong gusts and blusters? There is something uncanny and beautiful to be found here, hence the commencement of a rigorous (re)search! To the uncanny aggregate!
Here's to Chaos:
..and contemplation? Or are they the same?
Hours in tattered cover pouring over Neuroscience, art and fashion magazines and a cup of coffee while the snow drifts down is lovely lovely way to spend a day. Meditation is in the calm whilst the mind churns some kind of vatic and menacing vision, material, concept or space?
A combination of the recent unrest in Egypt, reading of Freud and the unconscious, snow, article in Discover magazine about how the input from the internet is a change in the functionality of the brain and attention (which I tried to repost here), a skimming of this book, and the color and happenings of last night have left me twiddling upon a susurrous orb of thought. Fragmentary at best, but it's fluttering as I tap and scallop text upon the box. Here's to attempting to delineate distractions and enhance a keenness of function and focus. Intentionality? Perhaps. Direction? I would hope so. Fortified directions or just strong gusts and blusters? There is something uncanny and beautiful to be found here, hence the commencement of a rigorous (re)search! To the uncanny aggregate!
13 January, 2011
Rule of thirds.
5
Perhaps that will be my first stencil in my New Years resolution. Seems fitting given the shit-storm that has been and will be.
Terrifying, really.
No need to recount or hark about the incomprehensible, Kafkaesque and the absurd. I need perhaps remind myself however that it's about time this came around, in fact as it really seems the case that the stupid and incomprehensible of circumstance is drawn to me with unimaginable force.
I initially started this post quite some time ago, and haven't really taken it upon myself to wrap things up until now.
Even though it doesn't seem to be the case that anyone really downloads the music I throw up here, I really like this track off of Iron & Wine's new album that came out just last week:
Iron & Wine--Rabbit Will Run
New York was phenomenal. I wish I could have been riding on the cloud of calm and peace that I came back on, but I had to spend days cleaning my old place more throughly than I've ever cleaned something then move into a new place. Then my car died in the middle of a bustling car wash the following day. Wonderful. Fortunate for my case, I was able to get all the moving done before the big freeze that is still clinging to this city. The cold that has not only fallen upon Denver, but the rest of the United States is one of the boldest we've yet seen. Strange times indeed.
13 & God are putting out something new this spring. Here's a preview of their new song, Armored Scarves
I'll leave it at that for now. I can say that things are moving, churning and bubbling. Let's hope something sticks....
Perhaps that will be my first stencil in my New Years resolution. Seems fitting given the shit-storm that has been and will be.
Terrifying, really.
No need to recount or hark about the incomprehensible, Kafkaesque and the absurd. I need perhaps remind myself however that it's about time this came around, in fact as it really seems the case that the stupid and incomprehensible of circumstance is drawn to me with unimaginable force.
I initially started this post quite some time ago, and haven't really taken it upon myself to wrap things up until now.
Even though it doesn't seem to be the case that anyone really downloads the music I throw up here, I really like this track off of Iron & Wine's new album that came out just last week:
Iron & Wine--Rabbit Will Run
New York was phenomenal. I wish I could have been riding on the cloud of calm and peace that I came back on, but I had to spend days cleaning my old place more throughly than I've ever cleaned something then move into a new place. Then my car died in the middle of a bustling car wash the following day. Wonderful. Fortunate for my case, I was able to get all the moving done before the big freeze that is still clinging to this city. The cold that has not only fallen upon Denver, but the rest of the United States is one of the boldest we've yet seen. Strange times indeed.
13 & God are putting out something new this spring. Here's a preview of their new song, Armored Scarves
I'll leave it at that for now. I can say that things are moving, churning and bubbling. Let's hope something sticks....
04 January, 2011
et encore
...and let this be a second piece to what I started yesterday, as I quite realized I am a few steps shy from finished...
This song is real pretty and nice. I think I'm throwing it up here because the main chorus articulates a certain way of feeling that's been streaming through me lately. "Let me know when we get there, if we get there..."
Fink--Sort of Revolution (Cinematic Orchestra Remix)
4 Days in and,as hinted at, 2011's been a bit of a maelstrom. Not sure how to take it but the shock of it's violence as a reintroduction and a recreation of things--they certainly feel that way. Not refreshed, but new and young. With a new sense of youth comes a new sense of fear and direction.
Anxiety. Excitement.
The dynamics of color on this video really intrigue me:
and these tracks:
Lorn--Bretagne
Lorn--Cherry Moon
Resolution #1: Commit to Creating (street) art. Watching this documentary (any any akin to it, like Bomb-It!) pull out that drive in me, that person that I want to be more of. This year, I am going to be more of it.
Resolution #2: Write, record and document more. Create and Generate. Be more of who I am. Simple enough.
More will come as they arrive. That is how change comes about.
Not sure whether I am an anchor or a feather. To float and drift or dwell. The lust to burst out may have lost the strength of its heat (although it still remains!) and I don't know how to put it. I suppose there are so many things left untouched for me that I still feel pulse toward. Also, such a bursting realm of the possible. The possible ranks higher than the actual. So many things just within my touch: a beauty and strength needing only trust. The next month will determine its arrival or withering. I love knowledge that you can feel.
Look Alive (Blockhead Remix)
En attendant.
But, really, all else must yield to the importance of remembering:
15 December, 2010
Tumult
I'm gonna kick it off with a short video of magnificence.
Damn:
Not only is that the road that marks the border between Italy and Switzerland, but it is also probably my favorite single place in the world. If only because the road itself is so extreme and I can remember being exposed to an unrivaled clarity here. One of the most visceral and heightening moments of my life. And this guy is smug enough to kill it on a track bike. Not too outlandish to add this to my "Things I just gotta do" list, perhaps with my hommie, Mr. Ted0, non?
It also shells off as an image into the tumult and exertion that this last weekend has been. Granted, damnit, I wasn't biking through the alps. But shit, it nearly feels like it. In a moment, I lost a piece of everything in a suckerpunch of confusion and neglect. I destroyed myself to bring in the new year, and had it back within my grasp. I don't know if I've ever felt thrown is such a loop. I think my innards will bee feeling whiplash for the next few days...
Underworld--Bird I
But such violence consequently tore this scared kind of lethargy that has been sticking inside of me like some molded sap. Terror is a phenomenal motivator. So, a consequence of being thrown around has refreshed a kind of drive in me. A drive to a new job, an alteration in style, an upping of self-expectation and shit I plan to do. Looking forward to auditing a PhD-level Philosophy course/colloquium on 21st Century thought and various adaptations of "Culture". Throwing myself back into the challenge of Philosophy again should augment this regrowth I want to kick start.
I hope such aggressiveness will provide some clarity as to where I want to take myself in this A venir of tomorrow: back to France? Peace Corps? Establish something more real in Denver? Grad School? Elsewhere? Strange enough, remaining in Denver seems the brightest diamond at this point...
It's terrifying! It's happening! It's up in the air! But goddamn, it's beautiful.
Damn:
SEABASE vs STELVIO from YUHZIMI Ltd. on Vimeo.
Not only is that the road that marks the border between Italy and Switzerland, but it is also probably my favorite single place in the world. If only because the road itself is so extreme and I can remember being exposed to an unrivaled clarity here. One of the most visceral and heightening moments of my life. And this guy is smug enough to kill it on a track bike. Not too outlandish to add this to my "Things I just gotta do" list, perhaps with my hommie, Mr. Ted0, non?
It also shells off as an image into the tumult and exertion that this last weekend has been. Granted, damnit, I wasn't biking through the alps. But shit, it nearly feels like it. In a moment, I lost a piece of everything in a suckerpunch of confusion and neglect. I destroyed myself to bring in the new year, and had it back within my grasp. I don't know if I've ever felt thrown is such a loop. I think my innards will bee feeling whiplash for the next few days...
Underworld--Bird I
But such violence consequently tore this scared kind of lethargy that has been sticking inside of me like some molded sap. Terror is a phenomenal motivator. So, a consequence of being thrown around has refreshed a kind of drive in me. A drive to a new job, an alteration in style, an upping of self-expectation and shit I plan to do. Looking forward to auditing a PhD-level Philosophy course/colloquium on 21st Century thought and various adaptations of "Culture". Throwing myself back into the challenge of Philosophy again should augment this regrowth I want to kick start.
I hope such aggressiveness will provide some clarity as to where I want to take myself in this A venir of tomorrow: back to France? Peace Corps? Establish something more real in Denver? Grad School? Elsewhere? Strange enough, remaining in Denver seems the brightest diamond at this point...
It's terrifying! It's happening! It's up in the air! But goddamn, it's beautiful.
12 December, 2010
tu quoque...et moi?
I present to you a new face. More ephemeral with much less volume. Perhaps the shifting aesthetic pleases you, perhaps not. Either way, I find it more in que with what I'm trying to extricate from me to you...
This is a beautiful video from a wonderful little collective that I recently stumbled upon; it also is a good point of departure for this new face and, well, where I happen to be right now...
In addition to its very mesmerizing/hypnotic quality, it brought about a kind of i.)questioning and ii.)thinking for me.
That which is thinking(ii) is the eloquent pattern of synchronized movement--which, in turn, is just a meditation or variation on relation. Relation and dynamic. As base as it is to remark on the unhindered and innate skill of such creatures to move autonomously, together, and in safety--not colliding. And, taking that, remarking on the pattern or interplay of movement within a greater entity. More abstractly put: singularity within singularity. It intrigues and encourages the notion that Being dwells in movement. At least the expression or manifestation of being's relationship to other Beings. Relational movement.
That which is questioning(i) actually springs from an entire consideration of my relationship with Pigeons. Not entirely pigeons as a species: a cooing, smattered, omnipresent pestilence; yet not entirely pigeons as a concept either (as best one can transform creatures into a concept!). I think about the time from my childhood where, in a violent (psychotic, perhaps?) bout of rage and frustration my father climbed to the top of our 3-story Victorian house in Springfield and kidnapped the recently-hatched baby pigeons from their nest on our roof, proceeding to decapitate each of them. Following their quick deaths, my father and I hung the heads from the four corners of our roof. Later that night, I remember having a panic attack after being so overwhelmed with fear and the vivid image of someone coming and forcefully removing my head whilst finishing my supper alone in the kitchen. I remember having difficulty falling asleep weeks later for fear of someone cutting off my head. I was no more than 8 at the time. I still do not understand why my father brought me along with him on this terrible task of murder--certainly not the highlight of his parenting career. Two things are certain, however: the first one being that we never had pigeons again at that house, and the second that it was the most terrifying memory of my childhood.
I am also reminded of taking pride as a hunter of pigeons as a middle schooler. My best friend and neighbor, Ashton and I made clay throwing darts and rid our neighborhood of pigeons by patrolling the streets after school. Our pursuit was not explicitly motivated by a loathing for the creatures, but more a feeling as though I had succeeded at something, regardless of the seeming triteness of such a task.
And a third instance of taking such joy in the art of chasing and stalking pigeons from my days in Paris. I remember having entire joyous discourses on the proper techniques for pigeon kicking while strolling through le Jardin de Luxembourg, or chasing them while bombing down the road next to the canal between Place de la République to la Bastille....
...and so, it seems that upon reconsideration of pigeons, I realize that I quite enjoy bullying the little winged rats. Upon more careful consideration, I realize that their entire perception and treatment is a misnomer. I also realize the importance of the aesthetic they add to not only a city scape, but the conceptual aesthetic of the purely ephemeral. So ephemeral that their presence is even something to be forgotten, and it is the perceived effect of their appearance that comes into being and consequently passes away. So, to the new face, and to a newfound appreciation and love for the Pigeon: the concrete creeping kings of ephemeral rapture!
So here's a real pretty remix of Baths's Hall, check it, real lovely:
Baths-- Hall (The One AM Radio Remix Feat. The Los Feliz Ladies Choir)
I'm sitting here, first shift of the week. It's just before 2 and a firetruck/ambulance team just pulled up to the home next to ours. This has spawned two things: me wondering if someone has recently slipped and tumbled down the hole (or may be slipping) and, secondarily, the effect of the lights flashing on the camera on the front door. It creates the somewhat frightening effect of storm and lightning on the street just outside. It's marvelous.
I've spent far too long trying to compose a snippet of change and quality here. I'll wrap it up with another beautiful video by yak productions. This one is to Baths's Animals. See how everything kind of loops into itself now? Here I go again!
This is a beautiful video from a wonderful little collective that I recently stumbled upon; it also is a good point of departure for this new face and, well, where I happen to be right now...
In addition to its very mesmerizing/hypnotic quality, it brought about a kind of i.)questioning and ii.)thinking for me.
That which is thinking(ii) is the eloquent pattern of synchronized movement--which, in turn, is just a meditation or variation on relation. Relation and dynamic. As base as it is to remark on the unhindered and innate skill of such creatures to move autonomously, together, and in safety--not colliding. And, taking that, remarking on the pattern or interplay of movement within a greater entity. More abstractly put: singularity within singularity. It intrigues and encourages the notion that Being dwells in movement. At least the expression or manifestation of being's relationship to other Beings. Relational movement.
That which is questioning(i) actually springs from an entire consideration of my relationship with Pigeons. Not entirely pigeons as a species: a cooing, smattered, omnipresent pestilence; yet not entirely pigeons as a concept either (as best one can transform creatures into a concept!). I think about the time from my childhood where, in a violent (psychotic, perhaps?) bout of rage and frustration my father climbed to the top of our 3-story Victorian house in Springfield and kidnapped the recently-hatched baby pigeons from their nest on our roof, proceeding to decapitate each of them. Following their quick deaths, my father and I hung the heads from the four corners of our roof. Later that night, I remember having a panic attack after being so overwhelmed with fear and the vivid image of someone coming and forcefully removing my head whilst finishing my supper alone in the kitchen. I remember having difficulty falling asleep weeks later for fear of someone cutting off my head. I was no more than 8 at the time. I still do not understand why my father brought me along with him on this terrible task of murder--certainly not the highlight of his parenting career. Two things are certain, however: the first one being that we never had pigeons again at that house, and the second that it was the most terrifying memory of my childhood.
I am also reminded of taking pride as a hunter of pigeons as a middle schooler. My best friend and neighbor, Ashton and I made clay throwing darts and rid our neighborhood of pigeons by patrolling the streets after school. Our pursuit was not explicitly motivated by a loathing for the creatures, but more a feeling as though I had succeeded at something, regardless of the seeming triteness of such a task.
And a third instance of taking such joy in the art of chasing and stalking pigeons from my days in Paris. I remember having entire joyous discourses on the proper techniques for pigeon kicking while strolling through le Jardin de Luxembourg, or chasing them while bombing down the road next to the canal between Place de la République to la Bastille....
...and so, it seems that upon reconsideration of pigeons, I realize that I quite enjoy bullying the little winged rats. Upon more careful consideration, I realize that their entire perception and treatment is a misnomer. I also realize the importance of the aesthetic they add to not only a city scape, but the conceptual aesthetic of the purely ephemeral. So ephemeral that their presence is even something to be forgotten, and it is the perceived effect of their appearance that comes into being and consequently passes away. So, to the new face, and to a newfound appreciation and love for the Pigeon: the concrete creeping kings of ephemeral rapture!
So here's a real pretty remix of Baths's Hall, check it, real lovely:
Baths-- Hall (The One AM Radio Remix Feat. The Los Feliz Ladies Choir)
I'm sitting here, first shift of the week. It's just before 2 and a firetruck/ambulance team just pulled up to the home next to ours. This has spawned two things: me wondering if someone has recently slipped and tumbled down the hole (or may be slipping) and, secondarily, the effect of the lights flashing on the camera on the front door. It creates the somewhat frightening effect of storm and lightning on the street just outside. It's marvelous.
I've spent far too long trying to compose a snippet of change and quality here. I'll wrap it up with another beautiful video by yak productions. This one is to Baths's Animals. See how everything kind of loops into itself now? Here I go again!
26 November, 2010
Alterity, or what is reaching?
Let's get it kicking with this track. Killer drumbeat. Download, listen and read on, friends!
LTJ Bukem--Journey Inwards
(an apt title, perhaps?)
It's Been an interesting week in relation to, well, Relation and the discourse between and amongst people (not to mention within!). Feel rather inclined to describe myself as being somewhat enraptured in some uncanny, lumbering quagmire: It seems that once a rupture is introduced formally: recognized, marked, titled; it reverberates and surges, rendering any smooth surface rigid, sharp and incongruous. Incongruity is nothing short of beautiful, only in circumstances as mentioned, it manifests upon the body more like a fracture....
...When all along nothing within its most rudimentary form has really changed. Now can we really hold the process of naming, noting and identifying accountable for such haze and whirl? Or does this yield the inclination of form itself feeble?
This is a question that I've been rehearsing in my mind and comportment lately....
...As is usually the case, my obscurity is direct. For reasons of privacy, and in the fashion of chaos and falling stars, provocation through ambiguity pins open the possibility for a much more brilliant vagary than directness and clarity. At least as it relates to some matters?
Thoughts?
Here's another, pretty song. Digging this whole record, Shine Through. You probably would to--or ought to...
Aloe Blacc--Nascimento scene 2
Anyway, to kind of carry on into and through the mire of nonsense and semiotic mamblings (my new mot-hybride--caught in the space between murmurings and ramblings) prior commenced: I find myself in a hyper-abstracted situation where, when it comes to careful consideration, I am quite pinned down; it is not fateful nor dreadful, just troubling, as the commitment of my choices and force of my emotions are what draw the pressure upon my shoulders more pressing.
I realize that such a description of my perceived circumstance is...impossible at best. But here's my first step into trying to work through this in-between that has up to this point only manifested itself to me in energies and fleeting expressions.
Oh, and here's another. To end things on a 'better' note--although I never wish to espouse anything but wonderment and progress!
The Glass--Four Floor Letter.
I'll try and pull apart the ends of this tightly-wound accordion for further examination later. For now, enjoy the beautiful new music!
LTJ Bukem--Journey Inwards
(an apt title, perhaps?)
It's Been an interesting week in relation to, well, Relation and the discourse between and amongst people (not to mention within!). Feel rather inclined to describe myself as being somewhat enraptured in some uncanny, lumbering quagmire: It seems that once a rupture is introduced formally: recognized, marked, titled; it reverberates and surges, rendering any smooth surface rigid, sharp and incongruous. Incongruity is nothing short of beautiful, only in circumstances as mentioned, it manifests upon the body more like a fracture....
...When all along nothing within its most rudimentary form has really changed. Now can we really hold the process of naming, noting and identifying accountable for such haze and whirl? Or does this yield the inclination of form itself feeble?
This is a question that I've been rehearsing in my mind and comportment lately....
...As is usually the case, my obscurity is direct. For reasons of privacy, and in the fashion of chaos and falling stars, provocation through ambiguity pins open the possibility for a much more brilliant vagary than directness and clarity. At least as it relates to some matters?
Thoughts?
Here's another, pretty song. Digging this whole record, Shine Through. You probably would to--or ought to...
Aloe Blacc--Nascimento scene 2
Anyway, to kind of carry on into and through the mire of nonsense and semiotic mamblings (my new mot-hybride--caught in the space between murmurings and ramblings) prior commenced: I find myself in a hyper-abstracted situation where, when it comes to careful consideration, I am quite pinned down; it is not fateful nor dreadful, just troubling, as the commitment of my choices and force of my emotions are what draw the pressure upon my shoulders more pressing.
I realize that such a description of my perceived circumstance is...impossible at best. But here's my first step into trying to work through this in-between that has up to this point only manifested itself to me in energies and fleeting expressions.
Oh, and here's another. To end things on a 'better' note--although I never wish to espouse anything but wonderment and progress!
The Glass--Four Floor Letter.
I'll try and pull apart the ends of this tightly-wound accordion for further examination later. For now, enjoy the beautiful new music!
15 November, 2010
Doubt, ululation, flame!
Persnickle. Not quite sure how to describe things apart from that, at least for the time being...
A very full birthday weekend indeed my thanks for all those who participated in the celebration and folly, as that's really how it ended up--fortunate or not. Best part was the gorgeous little dinner I had with my exquisite lady, Ms. Jillian K. Pate at a charming petit Absinthe bar/Bistro, Z Cusine . Enjoyed a cocktail at the bar--beautifully named À Côté--Le Boulevard Saint Germain--one of my favorite in my favorite city; moved next door and ordered a Bordeaux, which I'd rate at an....11 I'd say; then split some Muscles and a delicious Tulip steak with my sweet. Then returned to an apartment full of friends and enjoyed some coffee, a gourmet cheesecake and wine with friends, my mum and her strange friend. 'Twas quite lovely...
Thursday was spent with my Father, Brother and amigo Brian, eating, shopping, retrieving and going to Dry Docks, what has been rated Denver's best Brewery (although I'd still lean in favor of Great Divide. Brian and I ended up respectably buzzed after sampling all they had to offer and a selection of our favorite, the H.M.S. Victory ESB. The evening was concluded with a night of Tequila shots, nachos and a few beers with Jillian.
Thursday's Song:
Yppah--Never Mess With Sunday
Friday was my party cookfest. The cook fest went excellently, due largely thanks to Molly B., who excellently cooked by my side; the second half of the evening, which I will call the Tequila Terrorism went so well I remember it less than I'd like to admit. According to some I was wild; while others profess drunkness and warmth. Regardless, 2 liters of tequila, 4...ish six-packs and a couple of bottles of wine later the place looked like a bomb had gone off inside. That and a whole handful of others made asses of themselves and a handful of good souls had to pay for it much more than they should have; although I am in no way responsible for the actions of others, I am responsible for where said actions take place. I'm cutting myself off from flagrant drunkness, spotty memory and a jam-packed house and will lean my preferences toward loving swooshiness and charming dinners. Class, not craze....
But it was a night to remember...up until shot number 9...
In light of this, I'd like to offer a new song by Blockhead--one that appreciates a sort of gloom, but still puts forth a smile because, well, it is a NEW Blockhead song, is it not?
Blockhead--Ugly Brown
Coming to a point where I'm kind of ready to move on to another kind of work. OR at least another place of work. The amount of strain, press and stress that working here at Gemini as an overnight is no longer worth it. Although I don't anticipate really shifting gears anytime soon; I do realize, however, that the post-graduation chill-out isn't really manifesting itself due to the pedantic stress I get from a job where I feel like appreciation is a word devoid from my superiors' vocabulary. At this point, I'd like to be involved with a place like Mental Health Denver or doing something a little more clinically-oriented (erhm...science, cough, cough) and a little less 'therapeutic' and babysitting. I'm also considering going for my Phlebotomist's certification and taking that where it may follow, as that'd at least put me behind clinic doors....Oh, but these are extentions into future projects and under an assumption that my foundation stays steady here and the anchors keeping me here stay beautiful and solid, as I feel myself being viscerally tugged over seas to whatever new Francophone (mis)adventures await....
All things revealed, I'm just stretched in many places at once: very happy yet quite hungry. And I'm not willing to just 'settle'.
Oh, here's a rockin' remix of my favorite song off of Bonobo's Black Sands, and anyone who wants to see one of the best musical performances out there, they'll be here the 24th....
Bonobo--Stay the Same (Welder Remix)
A very full birthday weekend indeed my thanks for all those who participated in the celebration and folly, as that's really how it ended up--fortunate or not. Best part was the gorgeous little dinner I had with my exquisite lady, Ms. Jillian K. Pate at a charming petit Absinthe bar/Bistro, Z Cusine . Enjoyed a cocktail at the bar--beautifully named À Côté--Le Boulevard Saint Germain--one of my favorite in my favorite city; moved next door and ordered a Bordeaux, which I'd rate at an....11 I'd say; then split some Muscles and a delicious Tulip steak with my sweet. Then returned to an apartment full of friends and enjoyed some coffee, a gourmet cheesecake and wine with friends, my mum and her strange friend. 'Twas quite lovely...
Thursday was spent with my Father, Brother and amigo Brian, eating, shopping, retrieving and going to Dry Docks, what has been rated Denver's best Brewery (although I'd still lean in favor of Great Divide. Brian and I ended up respectably buzzed after sampling all they had to offer and a selection of our favorite, the H.M.S. Victory ESB. The evening was concluded with a night of Tequila shots, nachos and a few beers with Jillian.
Thursday's Song:
Yppah--Never Mess With Sunday
Friday was my party cookfest. The cook fest went excellently, due largely thanks to Molly B., who excellently cooked by my side; the second half of the evening, which I will call the Tequila Terrorism went so well I remember it less than I'd like to admit. According to some I was wild; while others profess drunkness and warmth. Regardless, 2 liters of tequila, 4...ish six-packs and a couple of bottles of wine later the place looked like a bomb had gone off inside. That and a whole handful of others made asses of themselves and a handful of good souls had to pay for it much more than they should have; although I am in no way responsible for the actions of others, I am responsible for where said actions take place. I'm cutting myself off from flagrant drunkness, spotty memory and a jam-packed house and will lean my preferences toward loving swooshiness and charming dinners. Class, not craze....
But it was a night to remember...up until shot number 9...
In light of this, I'd like to offer a new song by Blockhead--one that appreciates a sort of gloom, but still puts forth a smile because, well, it is a NEW Blockhead song, is it not?
Blockhead--Ugly Brown
Coming to a point where I'm kind of ready to move on to another kind of work. OR at least another place of work. The amount of strain, press and stress that working here at Gemini as an overnight is no longer worth it. Although I don't anticipate really shifting gears anytime soon; I do realize, however, that the post-graduation chill-out isn't really manifesting itself due to the pedantic stress I get from a job where I feel like appreciation is a word devoid from my superiors' vocabulary. At this point, I'd like to be involved with a place like Mental Health Denver or doing something a little more clinically-oriented (erhm...science, cough, cough) and a little less 'therapeutic' and babysitting. I'm also considering going for my Phlebotomist's certification and taking that where it may follow, as that'd at least put me behind clinic doors....Oh, but these are extentions into future projects and under an assumption that my foundation stays steady here and the anchors keeping me here stay beautiful and solid, as I feel myself being viscerally tugged over seas to whatever new Francophone (mis)adventures await....
All things revealed, I'm just stretched in many places at once: very happy yet quite hungry. And I'm not willing to just 'settle'.
Oh, here's a rockin' remix of my favorite song off of Bonobo's Black Sands, and anyone who wants to see one of the best musical performances out there, they'll be here the 24th....
Bonobo--Stay the Same (Welder Remix)
21 October, 2010
Where you going?
The haunt, chill and beauty of October never ceases to put me in a sort of trance. The smell of the air, the feeling of living in a tableau. I drive/walk/ride around, my face a little awash, trying to pull in all the color. The haunt of October is the most interesting: the days of warmth still scrape your arms and bronze your face; yet we all know that the cold, wet and white loom of Colorado winter is waiting to surprise the good nature out of us just around the corner...November. October gets all the fun--eggings, t-pings, drunken parties, sweets and November is that cold morning cleanup. So enjoy your last 10 days of free coasting before the chores kick in, kids...
Have some fun on my drum.
.
Fitness month is going well thus far. Regular Yoga is really starting to pwn some serious sauce on me--which is surely tip-top. Never thought I'd feel soreness so deep in my muscles. Such fluidity has begun to stream in my movement and step. It's different, it's nice.
This song really makes me cry. I'm not quite sure why. Not the only song with Cudi's vocals that makes me tear up...Real beautiful. Check it. Dan Black is also a worthy, very talented artist that should definitely be checked out by those who seek pleasantries for the ears :)
Interesting how the unconscious or 'sub'consciousness is always and unususally one step ahead of that thinking, engaging, contemplative, feeling self. It's a protector, at times. A space and time that once seemed so grandoise and decadent: dead weight upon the thought and shoulders--can suddenly cease to mean anything. You start to detach, unplug and release. Whether you 'realize' it or not--it becomes an empty space. Blank and hollow; yet something that doesn't quite feel like it can be touched. One accepts absence, and one becomes absence. One no longer 'misses' as absence is the precise inverse of presence; when one encounters more absence than presence, the hollow of absence is all one comes to know.
And I grimace, but sometimes I just get sick of myself for always having that hand and smile out. Putting so much into each breath. Planning, assembling. I feel useless. Like a shortcoming, really. Just because of what I seem to generate or inspire: lack. It's lame. And I'm tired. So tired. Tired from another overnight, tired to this absence. Tired of wanting to move forward, advance--trying to find a niche to push forward; yet feeling as if things are so static. So fucking static and I want them to move. It's hard to push so long and much into something unchanging; and then I realize there's nothing I can really do to change it. Then I feel dumb and helpless. It's that static and undecided that seems to have weidled mastery over me. Blame me not of overthinking; I do that minimally...I think I could just use a nap in the passenger seat while someeone else takes the wheel for a bit. Preferably someone who can (and is willing to) drive stick...
but rule #1: set your phasers on Stun!
Have some fun on my drum.
.
Fitness month is going well thus far. Regular Yoga is really starting to pwn some serious sauce on me--which is surely tip-top. Never thought I'd feel soreness so deep in my muscles. Such fluidity has begun to stream in my movement and step. It's different, it's nice.
This song really makes me cry. I'm not quite sure why. Not the only song with Cudi's vocals that makes me tear up...Real beautiful. Check it. Dan Black is also a worthy, very talented artist that should definitely be checked out by those who seek pleasantries for the ears :)
Interesting how the unconscious or 'sub'consciousness is always and unususally one step ahead of that thinking, engaging, contemplative, feeling self. It's a protector, at times. A space and time that once seemed so grandoise and decadent: dead weight upon the thought and shoulders--can suddenly cease to mean anything. You start to detach, unplug and release. Whether you 'realize' it or not--it becomes an empty space. Blank and hollow; yet something that doesn't quite feel like it can be touched. One accepts absence, and one becomes absence. One no longer 'misses' as absence is the precise inverse of presence; when one encounters more absence than presence, the hollow of absence is all one comes to know.
And I grimace, but sometimes I just get sick of myself for always having that hand and smile out. Putting so much into each breath. Planning, assembling. I feel useless. Like a shortcoming, really. Just because of what I seem to generate or inspire: lack. It's lame. And I'm tired. So tired. Tired from another overnight, tired to this absence. Tired of wanting to move forward, advance--trying to find a niche to push forward; yet feeling as if things are so static. So fucking static and I want them to move. It's hard to push so long and much into something unchanging; and then I realize there's nothing I can really do to change it. Then I feel dumb and helpless. It's that static and undecided that seems to have weidled mastery over me. Blame me not of overthinking; I do that minimally...I think I could just use a nap in the passenger seat while someeone else takes the wheel for a bit. Preferably someone who can (and is willing to) drive stick...
but rule #1: set your phasers on Stun!
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