A literary example of pose/poise (perhaps):
"Instead of asking how things are in fact, and how one could possibly find out, one wonders mostly whether one has got the author's point; and if one thinks one has, one may even feel superior to those who have not.
Speaking in Kierkegaard's terms, one might say that Buber makes it all too easy for his readers to avoid his ethical challenge by adopting an aesthetic orientation."
--Walter Kaufmann (Preface to Martin Buber's I and Thou)
Does the hipster, (term here used as a substitute for any/all alternative youth lifestyles), adopt an heir of superiority because they believe that they understand the ubiquitous author's point? Have they thus adopted an aesthetically oriented life that is masked by inauthentic ethical, or social aims, lifestyles, and means?
I posit that this may be the case not only of the alternative youth, but the acting puppeteer behind the complacent state of the country's marionette populous as a whole. Kaufmann continues to say that Kierkegaard is guilty of the fallacy as Buber. We as Senator's are perhaps the strongest proprietors of the aesthetic life in our romantically ethical outbursts against our peers, our education, our technology, and our age. And of course, are damn proud of it.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Cup of a Carpenter
"The universal order and the personal order are nothing but different expressions and manifestations of a common underlying principle. "
To assume an affected pose.
Luxury, perhaps, is to be afforded the opportunity to concern oneself and reflect upon the immaterial. So consider from luxury.
The underlying principle I am concerned with is pose, or to pose, or poise-- choose your favorite iteration.
Aurelius said, "Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." I substitute pose for perspective-- Everything we see is posed, not the truth.
I posit, identity is derived from responses to demands: both material and immaterial. One's response to the question of need: abstinence/indulgence: shapes, qualitatively and quantitatively, their identity.
A twentieth century example: orthodox Jewish ethicisism and homosexual aestheticism.
Poise. Identity has developed, from material emphasis to an immaterial emphasis-- with the satisfaction of material necessity in Majority-American life.
As preemptive response: It is marketing's 20th century victory that material goods have been abstracted to immaterial worth-- the connotations of item are as perceptibly valuable as item itself-- if not frequently more so.
Identity's dependence on immaterial has offered, (postmodernism), the opportunity to shape a malleable self identity--for export. To control the presentation of one's desires' and necessities' satisfaction. One can wonder endlessly which receives precedence, self-affiliation or group acknowledgment-- but in the argument's confines, each rely upon abstract immaterial indicators.
A painfully cultural dependent example: identity connotations between clothing items, flannel & spandex or oil-stained Jynco jeans & faded ICP logo printed on an american apparell 100% cotton t-shirt.
Identity has entered an implicit crisis. (Class is the unmentioned elephant, that for hermetic simplicity we'll leave for the moment) For the visible portion of the population material necessity has never been more distant, though even for the invisible portion-- cultural saturation has demanded their conformity to an immaterial model.
Poise and the Crisis of Identity. With the freedom to control and choose, from admittedly limited commercial options, identities have been chosen and summarily purchased.
Identity, however, exerts pressures upon its individual-- ascribing patterns of behavior and perspective in exchange for the immaterial indicators it provides. Individuals must live into the identities they purchase.
Opportunities for existential friction abound. Or do not, their occurrences perhaps in proportion to the benefits identity association provides the individual.
However one reacts, control and production of these immaterial cultural indicators is ample power for many competing agendas.
Poise. In delving into identity, it has been my purpose to examine the difficult cultural question of the hipster brand-- the very word's visceral response in majority individuals has passed into cliche. While an unassociated grouping of young individuals they represent in their varied and multiple iterations a common response to the underlying questions of identity.
Young people lumped into this group, still operate through immaterial cultural indicators but aspire to material identities that satisfied necessity has made irrelevant.
Material associations are fetishized. Material indicators of identity are perceived as more valid indicators than immaterial indicators. The words Authenticity & Authentic. I withhold judgment of the validity of these desires. Although, I might point out that attempting to align oneself with a preferably perceived material based identity is as abstractly an assumed pose/poise as the majority immaterial indicator.
Again, to clarify: attempting to resolve a crisis of navigating an immaterial identity, hipsters and young people have sought to identify themselves through the methodology of satisfying their material needs.
Hence, in some cases cultural phenomenons of vegetarianism/veganism-- deferentiating oneself from the majority through food choices.
Hence, a preference for material career aspirations: cooking/restaurant business--providing food; taxi/bus/public transit careers-- facilitating transportation; construction-- facilitating shelter, aid/nonprofit/not-for-profit-- facilitating material necessities of others; etc.
Career Addendum (employment genre is of itself a strong immaterial cultural identity indicator --even when employed in a material job sector) : Even should an individual be employed in majority-immaterial concerns, individuals yearning for material association often pursue other activities perceived as indicative of the material identity: i.e. pass times to distract after labor or violent voicing of pent-up frustrations/stress perceived as indicative of their meeting their material necessities -- drinking, concerts, vandalism, release through violence, group protest, sex, general rebellious acts-- and through abstaining from these activities.
(When abstracting choices to affiliate oneself with or differentiate oneself from a group, whether indulging or abstaining-- it is in terms of these material {and immaterial} need satisfaction indicators-- resulting in that desired identity.)
Associations through these means might be the most prevalent, case in point through aphoristic example: "Yeah, Casey's a lawyer, but she's cool. You should see that girl drink. She went with me to the guerrilla show downtown, she didn't bring money for the cover charge and punched the bouncer in the gut and slipped into the club! She swears like a sailor! She was at the vegg protest at the butcher shop!"
In this case, Casey works through immaterial means (possibly enjoying its benefits within other social spheres from immaterial identity association) but shows her aspiration for a material necessity based identity by acting examples of culturally associated behavior.
Even should an extreme example grow their food and butcher their cow, they'd never know to need it- necessity has been preceded by the supersaturated availability of industrial agriculture. It would be to assume an affected pose. Identifying themselves by material satisfactions that cannot, through circumstance, be their own necessities.
Sleeping on a park bench- if there's the option of a home behind you, there is no identity of necessity.
And if there is no home, you've certainly many jealous friends longing silently for and presently absorbing the awful cultural identity rays of authentic material necessity.
The cup of a carpenter, be humble:
"We are too much accustomed to attribute to a single cause that which is the product of several, and the majority of our controversies come from that. "
-M.A.
To assume an affected pose.
Luxury, perhaps, is to be afforded the opportunity to concern oneself and reflect upon the immaterial. So consider from luxury.
The underlying principle I am concerned with is pose, or to pose, or poise-- choose your favorite iteration.
Aurelius said, "Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." I substitute pose for perspective-- Everything we see is posed, not the truth.
I posit, identity is derived from responses to demands: both material and immaterial. One's response to the question of need: abstinence/indulgence: shapes, qualitatively and quantitatively, their identity.
A twentieth century example: orthodox Jewish ethicisism and homosexual aestheticism.
Poise. Identity has developed, from material emphasis to an immaterial emphasis-- with the satisfaction of material necessity in Majority-American life.
As preemptive response: It is marketing's 20th century victory that material goods have been abstracted to immaterial worth-- the connotations of item are as perceptibly valuable as item itself-- if not frequently more so.
Identity's dependence on immaterial has offered, (postmodernism), the opportunity to shape a malleable self identity--for export. To control the presentation of one's desires' and necessities' satisfaction. One can wonder endlessly which receives precedence, self-affiliation or group acknowledgment-- but in the argument's confines, each rely upon abstract immaterial indicators.
A painfully cultural dependent example: identity connotations between clothing items, flannel & spandex or oil-stained Jynco jeans & faded ICP logo printed on an american apparell 100% cotton t-shirt.
Identity has entered an implicit crisis. (Class is the unmentioned elephant, that for hermetic simplicity we'll leave for the moment) For the visible portion of the population material necessity has never been more distant, though even for the invisible portion-- cultural saturation has demanded their conformity to an immaterial model.
Poise and the Crisis of Identity. With the freedom to control and choose, from admittedly limited commercial options, identities have been chosen and summarily purchased.
Identity, however, exerts pressures upon its individual-- ascribing patterns of behavior and perspective in exchange for the immaterial indicators it provides. Individuals must live into the identities they purchase.
Opportunities for existential friction abound. Or do not, their occurrences perhaps in proportion to the benefits identity association provides the individual.
However one reacts, control and production of these immaterial cultural indicators is ample power for many competing agendas.
Poise. In delving into identity, it has been my purpose to examine the difficult cultural question of the hipster brand-- the very word's visceral response in majority individuals has passed into cliche. While an unassociated grouping of young individuals they represent in their varied and multiple iterations a common response to the underlying questions of identity.
Young people lumped into this group, still operate through immaterial cultural indicators but aspire to material identities that satisfied necessity has made irrelevant.
Material associations are fetishized. Material indicators of identity are perceived as more valid indicators than immaterial indicators. The words Authenticity & Authentic. I withhold judgment of the validity of these desires. Although, I might point out that attempting to align oneself with a preferably perceived material based identity is as abstractly an assumed pose/poise as the majority immaterial indicator.
Again, to clarify: attempting to resolve a crisis of navigating an immaterial identity, hipsters and young people have sought to identify themselves through the methodology of satisfying their material needs.
Hence, in some cases cultural phenomenons of vegetarianism/veganism-- deferentiating oneself from the majority through food choices.
Hence, a preference for material career aspirations: cooking/restaurant business--providing food; taxi/bus/public transit careers-- facilitating transportation; construction-- facilitating shelter, aid/nonprofit/not-for-profit-- facilitating material necessities of others; etc.
Career Addendum (employment genre is of itself a strong immaterial cultural identity indicator --even when employed in a material job sector) : Even should an individual be employed in majority-immaterial concerns, individuals yearning for material association often pursue other activities perceived as indicative of the material identity: i.e. pass times to distract after labor or violent voicing of pent-up frustrations/stress perceived as indicative of their meeting their material necessities -- drinking, concerts, vandalism, release through violence, group protest, sex, general rebellious acts-- and through abstaining from these activities.
(When abstracting choices to affiliate oneself with or differentiate oneself from a group, whether indulging or abstaining-- it is in terms of these material {and immaterial} need satisfaction indicators-- resulting in that desired identity.)
Associations through these means might be the most prevalent, case in point through aphoristic example: "Yeah, Casey's a lawyer, but she's cool. You should see that girl drink. She went with me to the guerrilla show downtown, she didn't bring money for the cover charge and punched the bouncer in the gut and slipped into the club! She swears like a sailor! She was at the vegg protest at the butcher shop!"
In this case, Casey works through immaterial means (possibly enjoying its benefits within other social spheres from immaterial identity association) but shows her aspiration for a material necessity based identity by acting examples of culturally associated behavior.
Even should an extreme example grow their food and butcher their cow, they'd never know to need it- necessity has been preceded by the supersaturated availability of industrial agriculture. It would be to assume an affected pose. Identifying themselves by material satisfactions that cannot, through circumstance, be their own necessities.
Sleeping on a park bench- if there's the option of a home behind you, there is no identity of necessity.
And if there is no home, you've certainly many jealous friends longing silently for and presently absorbing the awful cultural identity rays of authentic material necessity.
The cup of a carpenter, be humble:
"We are too much accustomed to attribute to a single cause that which is the product of several, and the majority of our controversies come from that. "
-M.A.
The Future- Part 3 (6/14/10)
John gave his ten year old daughter four dollars from his pocket, the year is 2020. The blonde girl snatched the bills and hopped across the fair toward the lily pad booth. Chris stood off a few feet, cigarette smoking between the lips and his three year old daughter sitting on his shoulders. Sighing, John looked through the concession stand trailers and stuffed carnival prizes as he leisurely pursued his blonde little girl bounding ahead. Beyond the fairground, cars parked on grass fields broiled in mid-afternoon sun. All Rhode Island was packed into the small Woodstock County Agricultural Fair for one last weekend of summer.
John rounded the corner of a fair-alley and he paused, a concessionaire-- wearing a yellow striped Dr. Seuss hat and a backpack overflowing with styrofoam-sponge lizards on wire leashes, long plastic horns and tiny confetti coloured stuffed dog keychains--knelt as a large woman dug through the backpack for a tweety-bird doll. After waiting a minute, John skirted sideways against a sausage stall and slipped past. John could no longer see his daughter, the lily pad booth was little distance ahead but she was not there. Children banged wood catapults with miniature sledgehammers trying to launch rubber frogs onto lily pads. John stuck his hands into his pockets.
The sky reddened and afternoon passed. Behind a sun bleached circus tent, Chris stood with a juggler and several clowns on their break. His daughter slept, a green plastic horn against her stomach, sitting on her father's shoulders. They laughed as one of the clowns joked about the woman running the sausage stall. The juggler looked middle aged, he pulled out a glass bottle he had perched in the elastic waist of his costume. Laughing, the juggler talked about his many children. Chris took a drink from the bottle.John circled through the fields around the fair. Coloured lights had begun to flicker throughout the fair. He stopped a moment and watched as concession stands flipped on their flood lights. John hurried past as Chris, daughter on his shoulders, and two clowns urinated along the back of a circus tent. John grabbed a concessionaire with a striped yellow hat and begged him questions. Turning off and staggering down the carnival alley, John stopped and braced himself on a stall and gazed off at the Ferris Wheel's lights.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Post-Modern Oedipus Rex
This post is an answer to all the troubles of a young Roman citizen in the world of today and e-tomorrow. Poke out your eyes to rid oneself of e-despair. See only through the Self within the self. Here is the seat of the post-modern philosopher king. The post Cartesian pineal gland, the post-modern housing of the soul. After blotting out the eye sockets, that if used over zealously can reveal deep e-despair in the modern man (something I am ashamed to have ranted about as much as I have here on the senate floor), one's soul is brought in true harmony at all levels. In a state of such harmony one can stand with a gaze into all the bizarre HD screens of today and tomorrow (pocket or otherwise). 720p 1080i all become acceptable and of great pleasure, as when living as the post-modern Oedipus Rex all ill fate is removed from the self and only harmony with the true Self remains. One might be quick to call this a sort of e-freedom, but I think that is a misnomer as it overlooks the true tragedy of the whole undertaking. We are free, but only as free as a man who denies himself true vision for sake of a harmonious soul. Poke out your eyes to rid oneself of e-despair, live harmoniously in the true Self. Become the Post-Modern Oedipus Rex.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Seat of the Philosopher-King
A Preamble
The bells of the Senate ring again. Come senators, gather once more. As our fore-senators claimed-- "Men exist for the sake of one another"-- so it shall be. Gather again for both ourselves and our fellows. One wave of the many senate seasons has passed beneath us, another rises ahead. New days, new tasks to fill them-- but none so great as those now before us.
Again I quote the philosopher-king, "Such as are your habitual thoughts, such also will be the character of your mind; for the soul is dyed by the thoughts." Roll your shirtsleeves and let us coat our forearms in dyes.
Of Angry Young Men
Young passion has been much maligned, not always justly. "Anger cannot be dishonest," so say our fore-runners. Youth and the present are ours-- fellow senators, let us not waste these precious days of honesty.
Though our own strength is unequal to the task of Senate, do not assume that it is beyond the powers of man; but if anything is within the powers and province of man, believe that it is within our own compass also.
Gentlemen of the Senate, we hold discourse above a desert void. Blazing from the wasteland we move forward. Hiatus concluded, the Senate has re-opened.
Senate now, forever Senate.
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Golden e-Slippers of evermore
This post will start with a sentence that explains to me the state of the Union in its current recession and e-crop rotation future.
"History is the sound of silk slippers going down the stairs, accompanied by the thunder of hob-nailed boots going up the stairs."
We have enjoyed unparalleled freedom for over 200 years, and now rise into unparalleled e-freedom (something that if you have read my past three posts, will understand brings me into deep despair). Having thought on the larger scope of history with the rise and fall of Empires (I mean comon my avatar here is Nero) I have come to a new a much clearer understanding of the source of the e-despair I rant on and on about for posts and posts. We are the most powerful and wealthiest nation in the world but here comes the double kick in the junk. We are generally getting complacent (and have been for decades now) and are now letting the government run our lives, on top of that there is a new e-revolution that generates a false sense of community and empowerment. While the pillars of capitalism are crumbling, we are all being sold at record number e devices that do nothing but build e-walls and e-peace of mind. The silk slippers we have made for ourselves are having their thread count increased to number of the thousands. That is to say that these silk slippers are taking the e-revolution as their laces and becoming the slipperiest shoe in the entire world. Now it seems to me that this e-revolution has been going on for much longer than our life-time (and even the existence of The Senate ;p) but this means that these slippers I am describing with iPod and SmartPhone laces aren't really even shoes anymore. They have become snow skis. I use the word snow to drive home the picture of the existential winter we all live in. I feel the snowflakes fall on my body as I cry out into the infinite depths of the space vacuum of the intarwebs. It seems I am chained at the stake with the intarwebs, in Roman love, as we have become one and die as one. Remember brave Senators, remember the love, and remember the glory of Rome. Oh and remember our blog runs on google servers and will be the last pillar to fall, so I hope to read of Senatoral encounters and battles on the last bastion of this God loved nation. Cheers!
"History is the sound of silk slippers going down the stairs, accompanied by the thunder of hob-nailed boots going up the stairs."
We have enjoyed unparalleled freedom for over 200 years, and now rise into unparalleled e-freedom (something that if you have read my past three posts, will understand brings me into deep despair). Having thought on the larger scope of history with the rise and fall of Empires (I mean comon my avatar here is Nero) I have come to a new a much clearer understanding of the source of the e-despair I rant on and on about for posts and posts. We are the most powerful and wealthiest nation in the world but here comes the double kick in the junk. We are generally getting complacent (and have been for decades now) and are now letting the government run our lives, on top of that there is a new e-revolution that generates a false sense of community and empowerment. While the pillars of capitalism are crumbling, we are all being sold at record number e devices that do nothing but build e-walls and e-peace of mind. The silk slippers we have made for ourselves are having their thread count increased to number of the thousands. That is to say that these silk slippers are taking the e-revolution as their laces and becoming the slipperiest shoe in the entire world. Now it seems to me that this e-revolution has been going on for much longer than our life-time (and even the existence of The Senate ;p) but this means that these slippers I am describing with iPod and SmartPhone laces aren't really even shoes anymore. They have become snow skis. I use the word snow to drive home the picture of the existential winter we all live in. I feel the snowflakes fall on my body as I cry out into the infinite depths of the space vacuum of the intarwebs. It seems I am chained at the stake with the intarwebs, in Roman love, as we have become one and die as one. Remember brave Senators, remember the love, and remember the glory of Rome. Oh and remember our blog runs on google servers and will be the last pillar to fall, so I hope to read of Senatoral encounters and battles on the last bastion of this God loved nation. Cheers!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Meta-Despair
We (most middle to upper-class Americans - which just so happens to be the largest demographic of internet users globally 76.2 % of the population) are all meat puppets. We live the lives of Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson. The only difference between the "celebrities" and us is that we don't take in the gaze of the millions through the unblinking lens of the, what has now become Hal-esqe, video-camera lens. We live out Technicolor movies, in which the cupboards have food, the TV has new Seasons and the local theater has new movies, or better yet, the mail delivers new NetFlix within two days. The best illustration of the fact that we all live movies are the plethora of albums on facebook, flikr and photobucket, as everyone shares their travels to all sorts of different places to share with "the folks back home." I can't help but obsess over the expensive sandals and outfits these tourists wear into poverty stricken nations. Now this is a very pessimistic view, but I think that these albums are slide show movies of the Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson lives we lead as we slide toward an inevitable death, except free from the gaze of the millions and instead armed with a Canon camera to capture in hi-def images of our "interesting" lives.
Most of us gaze into our pixel monitors with great comfort and joy as we are hypnotized by the illusion of empowerment and community (see Facebook and Twitter). But the truth is that we all live inauthentic lives void of despair which should be chocking us to death. I enjoy Post-Moderner's view of the modern world being built on the safety of objects and personal possessions and therefore the authentic life is unobtainable, but it seems too "Hollywood" for me (which was the point of my counter post on the true solitary existentialist). I am sincerely afraid that this post might come down to the fact that I cannot take the death of the existential death. Our neo-culture of tabloid doctored actors making "film" after "film" hummz and buzzes with what seems some sort of pseudo-meta-stability. If Hollywood's still running and making new movies for my iPhone, then all is going "according to plan." However, to take a step back and recognize this neo-culture and it impact on a global scale is very terrifying. In the past 5 years we have made extreme jumps in image quality for home entrainment going from HD to even more sophisticated classes to 720p to 1080i and now into the realms of 3D entrainment. And, very importantly, internet piracy of these higher mediums keeps up with the amphetic speed the industry brings, missing nothing and often getting releases on the "intarwebs" before store shelves because of the reliance of offshore manufacturing of the media.
Now I have thought long and hard about this neo-culture's impact on the world at large and it makes my brain kind of implode and it instantly makes me reach for an iPod to fill the void of silence of despair in my head. The image that brings it home hard for me is the roughly 100 page book size boxes that these magical HD hypnotizing item's come in. Boxes with perfect actor profiles, balanced face overlays and varying strength of font, depending on the title of the movie, and all with an impeccable color scheme.
Now comes the theory of madness: These thin book box cases serve as little shelf e-mirror items that stimulate (or should I say over stimulate) the American populous. As I walk into BestBuy or Wal-Mart or any big box store, I am in awe of the maze of little box mirrors we have made for ourselves. We walk in, and very doubtfully, have any idea what direction to head first, and trod on past various sections of consumer items we might need. But the true coup-de-grace is the HD movie section. Hermetically sealed boxes, glossy new with syran wrap, (even sometimes protected by the stores glass security casing) that go on for rows and rows. One could gaze into the covers of these items for hours, and often shoppers do. But ok ok, that is fine for the bovine populous of the United States, but what's happening all around the world as these precious jewel boxes get released on the intarwebs with (and I am not joking) 6 different dialects of Chinese subtitles and every other language imaginable. You see, with a home entrainment system you need all sorts of hardware and wires hooked up to your television to view these HD gems, but off the intarwebs, no such upgrade is needed, maybe a software codec, but with the advancement in open source video players such as VLC, even that has become a way of the past.
While the United States humms on its off shore oil, Wall-Street Stock market, and Hollywood releases, an unnoticed flood of this neo-culture we all live in day to day is being feed to the rest of the world either for free, or very little. To quote a passage from the essay Constant Conflict (now over ten years old), "Hollywood goes where Harvard never penetrated, and the foreigner, unable to touch the reality of America, is touched by America’s irresponsible fantasies of itself; he sees a devilishly enchanting, bluntly sexual, terrifying world from which he is excluded, a world of wealth he can judge only in terms of his own poverty." In the slums of Cambodia, gangsters are watching "illegal" copies of "Public Enemies" (with subtitles) on their television or computer screens. Similarly, while Chinese businessmen are doing billion dollar deals with totally fucking corrupt American Corporations, they are watching episodes of "Baywatch." This flood of American culture around the world is hollow and toxic and unstoppable.
Now this perspective, or rant, can and maybe should be seen as a existential crisis. However, I feel it penetrates deeper than any existential philosopher I have studied could have ever dreamed. It is, for me, bone deep, and late at night for some reason, crippling. I go about my e-crop rotation daily, checking WikiNews, e-mail, Facebook newsfeed, message-boards, twitter and even a blog made with some college friends. But that is only one sliver. I might be gazing passively into an AMC full theatrical length premier of Pearl Harbor (which just so happens to be one of my favorite illustrations of the devilishly enchanting Hollywood mirror) or watching an HBO showing of an Adam Sandler movie. And this doesn't even include the number of ON-DEMAND HD spiraling gaze programs at my finger tips, or pocket devices to busy my finger-tips. After this gets old (either surfing the web or looking into the HD box or pocket device) I might move on to my middle-class gaming console system for e-crop rotation comfort, that is if I have the latest release, or some old "classic" I don't seem to get tired of playing. Maybe I throw on some MP3's I downloaded as I read a book (or e-book) or maybe just put on the old faithful friend the iPod and fade away in a familiar songscape. Better yet I can look up trailers for upcoming movies (LoLz) like the new Harry Potter or some HuLu viewing to catch up on missed episodes of last Season's TrueBlood.
Either way, though I see this e-crop rotation and its usefulness (or do i mean effectiveness) I can only deal with it up to a point, my mind interjects in despair. I can't help but recognize that these actions are what it takes to comply with the images in magazines and the social structure we accommodate. But what really gets me into a meta-despair is that these "things" are not everything, they hide, with great genius, what is really going on behind these e-walls of pretense and false e-peace of mind. It seems to me that the e-barriers between us are forever maintained by our acceptance of the roles other people choose to define. It is a true paradox of existential freedom. I freely choose to embrace this fantastic technological e-freedom, yet when faced with the realities of what it so skillfully hides(the demonic transmission of neo-American culture), I reject this freedom and choose to be in despair: wallowing in a sense of being alone and isolated in the world under a new e-plague. What is most frustrating about this despair, is it's nature to be in bouts, or spells. Late at night with time alone to think with eyes on a TV or PC screen. However, morning come and I can go on a walk in my suburb and wave with genuine joy at passer-bys and even happily wield my bag of dog crap, illustrating my responsible dog ownership. Only in fits of fury with the keyboard and sweet sounds of silence can my despair be brought to words for communication. Maybe, I am revisiting some fucked idea, and post-moderner is right to say that the existential death is dead, and my personal possessions make a cycle of living where thoughts of despair are replaced by upkeep up my suburban sanctuary, but there seems to be (at least for me) more at play.
Most of us gaze into our pixel monitors with great comfort and joy as we are hypnotized by the illusion of empowerment and community (see Facebook and Twitter). But the truth is that we all live inauthentic lives void of despair which should be chocking us to death. I enjoy Post-Moderner's view of the modern world being built on the safety of objects and personal possessions and therefore the authentic life is unobtainable, but it seems too "Hollywood" for me (which was the point of my counter post on the true solitary existentialist). I am sincerely afraid that this post might come down to the fact that I cannot take the death of the existential death. Our neo-culture of tabloid doctored actors making "film" after "film" hummz and buzzes with what seems some sort of pseudo-meta-stability. If Hollywood's still running and making new movies for my iPhone, then all is going "according to plan." However, to take a step back and recognize this neo-culture and it impact on a global scale is very terrifying. In the past 5 years we have made extreme jumps in image quality for home entrainment going from HD to even more sophisticated classes to 720p to 1080i and now into the realms of 3D entrainment. And, very importantly, internet piracy of these higher mediums keeps up with the amphetic speed the industry brings, missing nothing and often getting releases on the "intarwebs" before store shelves because of the reliance of offshore manufacturing of the media.
Now I have thought long and hard about this neo-culture's impact on the world at large and it makes my brain kind of implode and it instantly makes me reach for an iPod to fill the void of silence of despair in my head. The image that brings it home hard for me is the roughly 100 page book size boxes that these magical HD hypnotizing item's come in. Boxes with perfect actor profiles, balanced face overlays and varying strength of font, depending on the title of the movie, and all with an impeccable color scheme.
Now comes the theory of madness: These thin book box cases serve as little shelf e-mirror items that stimulate (or should I say over stimulate) the American populous. As I walk into BestBuy or Wal-Mart or any big box store, I am in awe of the maze of little box mirrors we have made for ourselves. We walk in, and very doubtfully, have any idea what direction to head first, and trod on past various sections of consumer items we might need. But the true coup-de-grace is the HD movie section. Hermetically sealed boxes, glossy new with syran wrap, (even sometimes protected by the stores glass security casing) that go on for rows and rows. One could gaze into the covers of these items for hours, and often shoppers do. But ok ok, that is fine for the bovine populous of the United States, but what's happening all around the world as these precious jewel boxes get released on the intarwebs with (and I am not joking) 6 different dialects of Chinese subtitles and every other language imaginable. You see, with a home entrainment system you need all sorts of hardware and wires hooked up to your television to view these HD gems, but off the intarwebs, no such upgrade is needed, maybe a software codec, but with the advancement in open source video players such as VLC, even that has become a way of the past.
While the United States humms on its off shore oil, Wall-Street Stock market, and Hollywood releases, an unnoticed flood of this neo-culture we all live in day to day is being feed to the rest of the world either for free, or very little. To quote a passage from the essay Constant Conflict (now over ten years old), "Hollywood goes where Harvard never penetrated, and the foreigner, unable to touch the reality of America, is touched by America’s irresponsible fantasies of itself; he sees a devilishly enchanting, bluntly sexual, terrifying world from which he is excluded, a world of wealth he can judge only in terms of his own poverty." In the slums of Cambodia, gangsters are watching "illegal" copies of "Public Enemies" (with subtitles) on their television or computer screens. Similarly, while Chinese businessmen are doing billion dollar deals with totally fucking corrupt American Corporations, they are watching episodes of "Baywatch." This flood of American culture around the world is hollow and toxic and unstoppable.
Now this perspective, or rant, can and maybe should be seen as a existential crisis. However, I feel it penetrates deeper than any existential philosopher I have studied could have ever dreamed. It is, for me, bone deep, and late at night for some reason, crippling. I go about my e-crop rotation daily, checking WikiNews, e-mail, Facebook newsfeed, message-boards, twitter and even a blog made with some college friends. But that is only one sliver. I might be gazing passively into an AMC full theatrical length premier of Pearl Harbor (which just so happens to be one of my favorite illustrations of the devilishly enchanting Hollywood mirror) or watching an HBO showing of an Adam Sandler movie. And this doesn't even include the number of ON-DEMAND HD spiraling gaze programs at my finger tips, or pocket devices to busy my finger-tips. After this gets old (either surfing the web or looking into the HD box or pocket device) I might move on to my middle-class gaming console system for e-crop rotation comfort, that is if I have the latest release, or some old "classic" I don't seem to get tired of playing. Maybe I throw on some MP3's I downloaded as I read a book (or e-book) or maybe just put on the old faithful friend the iPod and fade away in a familiar songscape. Better yet I can look up trailers for upcoming movies (LoLz) like the new Harry Potter or some HuLu viewing to catch up on missed episodes of last Season's TrueBlood.
Either way, though I see this e-crop rotation and its usefulness (or do i mean effectiveness) I can only deal with it up to a point, my mind interjects in despair. I can't help but recognize that these actions are what it takes to comply with the images in magazines and the social structure we accommodate. But what really gets me into a meta-despair is that these "things" are not everything, they hide, with great genius, what is really going on behind these e-walls of pretense and false e-peace of mind. It seems to me that the e-barriers between us are forever maintained by our acceptance of the roles other people choose to define. It is a true paradox of existential freedom. I freely choose to embrace this fantastic technological e-freedom, yet when faced with the realities of what it so skillfully hides(the demonic transmission of neo-American culture), I reject this freedom and choose to be in despair: wallowing in a sense of being alone and isolated in the world under a new e-plague. What is most frustrating about this despair, is it's nature to be in bouts, or spells. Late at night with time alone to think with eyes on a TV or PC screen. However, morning come and I can go on a walk in my suburb and wave with genuine joy at passer-bys and even happily wield my bag of dog crap, illustrating my responsible dog ownership. Only in fits of fury with the keyboard and sweet sounds of silence can my despair be brought to words for communication. Maybe, I am revisiting some fucked idea, and post-moderner is right to say that the existential death is dead, and my personal possessions make a cycle of living where thoughts of despair are replaced by upkeep up my suburban sanctuary, but there seems to be (at least for me) more at play.
Friday, July 2, 2010
The True Solitary Existentialist
Existentialism - the fight for a passionate and authentic life in spite of boredom, despair, angst and alienation. And now, in our age - in spite of the technological e-crop rotation that hypnotizes us all. No baggage. When did this journey into my own meaning start? And did I live in such a way that was passionate and sincere; or dare I say authentic? I am not entirely sure... I know when I look at the back of my hands I must be about 40 years old, for the wear and tear on them serve as indicators of marked time. No watch on my writs or in my pocket and certainly no iPhone to keep me "up to date." I prefer to live in time out of mind. Some might call this madness but I find it the most edifying, and as evidence of my edification I will recount my adventures.
Now then, where did all this start. I suppose it started in Mexico, when I had a house where I raised a boy alone, named Adam. No No No. That is all wrong, time out of mind can do this, my boy's name was Jim. Young Jim was seven when he died. I did what had to be done, and I burned the house to the ground. I covered Jim's room in gasoline a light it with a kitchen safe match from a cupboard over the sink. I went outside to urinate and by the time I finished, the whole hose was in blazes and I watched it burn to the ground. No more baggage, I thought, and moved with my small possessions of a Led Zepplin T shirt, Linkin Park hoodie, and Levies jeans with the one key I needed, the one to my car. One might say that this is when the madness started, but I don't really see it that way at all; it's hard to describe exactly how I see it. Now watching my house burn, I couldn't help but contemplate the notion that while it burned it was uninhabitable yet, was in a manner of speaking still a house. I guess I did not notice the house, so much as the remains of the house.
Here I should compose a list of where else I have been if only for my own edification.
In my car with one key and a small number of clothes I traveled from city to city getting library books past the security bars by tossing them up in the air as I walked out the door. I found that reading was spiritually up building, but brought way too much baggage with it. As for living situation I lived inside museums and burned the artwork within as warmth. Living in museums, traveling by car to various historical places of known artists and philosophers, Polluck John Dewey and Diane Arbus. Staying warm by burning the art in which they created. Limiting baggage to the bare minimum. Reading stolen plays like Sophocles "The Clouds" aloud and after reading a page tearing it out and burning it in a fire. Turing ancient drama into smoke while it rises to the highest reaches of the earthly sky. From Mexico, I traveled across the U.S. stopping at various museums to burn works of art and stay warm. I headed towards Alaska, where I would begin to travel across Russia by baring land bridge. Passing through areas like Russia and referencing Dostoevsky, though not speaking or reading a word of Russian. Trapped in an anglo-saxon sliver of existence. Provided much angst and anxiety, but relieved by the traveling by sunlight, as all the road signs were irrelevant, only needing the rising and setting sun to guide the car through Russia onward.
My travel with one key and books that would be destroyed on consumption lead me to a great number of places. Visiting the graves of Achilles and thinking of Helen of troy, living without baggage, basking in the sun on the Uffitzi. Walking through the home of Shakespeare, where his family spent most of their time as he was off writing plays to support their living. Burning logs in fireplaces, like artwork, much like the family of Shakespeare, waiting for the return of the care giver and creator of genius plays, none of which can be truly appreciated without performance or at least recitation. Text as baggage. Upon my travels reading books upon books about the same war, but inventing one's own stories in the imagination of the depths of the minds recesses, fanciful new version for private improvisations. While involving one's self in the fantasies, unable to forget the image of Hannibal crossing the alps, as a dark looming storm of loneliness and inevitable death kept toward oneself while venturing onward to the glory of dedicated travel. Yet none of this troubles me so much, more focused on the visiting of these famous birth places of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and even Old Kant. However, I must admit, that as I read their texts, especially Beyond Good and Evil, every new page read would be immediately thrown out, ripped right off the spine of the book. Death to all baggage, experience is the true knowledge well. A posterior's supremacy over the a priori.
This brings me to the beginning and to the end of my story, where before I left my burning house behind when standing in the street I was almost run over by a car with no driver at the wheel, as it rolled down the hill. Now don't worry there was an obvious explanation for this, as it was the hill I stood at the bottom of, waiting for impact but dodging at the last minute to go on my adventures.
Now then, where did all this start. I suppose it started in Mexico, when I had a house where I raised a boy alone, named Adam. No No No. That is all wrong, time out of mind can do this, my boy's name was Jim. Young Jim was seven when he died. I did what had to be done, and I burned the house to the ground. I covered Jim's room in gasoline a light it with a kitchen safe match from a cupboard over the sink. I went outside to urinate and by the time I finished, the whole hose was in blazes and I watched it burn to the ground. No more baggage, I thought, and moved with my small possessions of a Led Zepplin T shirt, Linkin Park hoodie, and Levies jeans with the one key I needed, the one to my car. One might say that this is when the madness started, but I don't really see it that way at all; it's hard to describe exactly how I see it. Now watching my house burn, I couldn't help but contemplate the notion that while it burned it was uninhabitable yet, was in a manner of speaking still a house. I guess I did not notice the house, so much as the remains of the house.
Here I should compose a list of where else I have been if only for my own edification.
In my car with one key and a small number of clothes I traveled from city to city getting library books past the security bars by tossing them up in the air as I walked out the door. I found that reading was spiritually up building, but brought way too much baggage with it. As for living situation I lived inside museums and burned the artwork within as warmth. Living in museums, traveling by car to various historical places of known artists and philosophers, Polluck John Dewey and Diane Arbus. Staying warm by burning the art in which they created. Limiting baggage to the bare minimum. Reading stolen plays like Sophocles "The Clouds" aloud and after reading a page tearing it out and burning it in a fire. Turing ancient drama into smoke while it rises to the highest reaches of the earthly sky. From Mexico, I traveled across the U.S. stopping at various museums to burn works of art and stay warm. I headed towards Alaska, where I would begin to travel across Russia by baring land bridge. Passing through areas like Russia and referencing Dostoevsky, though not speaking or reading a word of Russian. Trapped in an anglo-saxon sliver of existence. Provided much angst and anxiety, but relieved by the traveling by sunlight, as all the road signs were irrelevant, only needing the rising and setting sun to guide the car through Russia onward.
My travel with one key and books that would be destroyed on consumption lead me to a great number of places. Visiting the graves of Achilles and thinking of Helen of troy, living without baggage, basking in the sun on the Uffitzi. Walking through the home of Shakespeare, where his family spent most of their time as he was off writing plays to support their living. Burning logs in fireplaces, like artwork, much like the family of Shakespeare, waiting for the return of the care giver and creator of genius plays, none of which can be truly appreciated without performance or at least recitation. Text as baggage. Upon my travels reading books upon books about the same war, but inventing one's own stories in the imagination of the depths of the minds recesses, fanciful new version for private improvisations. While involving one's self in the fantasies, unable to forget the image of Hannibal crossing the alps, as a dark looming storm of loneliness and inevitable death kept toward oneself while venturing onward to the glory of dedicated travel. Yet none of this troubles me so much, more focused on the visiting of these famous birth places of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and even Old Kant. However, I must admit, that as I read their texts, especially Beyond Good and Evil, every new page read would be immediately thrown out, ripped right off the spine of the book. Death to all baggage, experience is the true knowledge well. A posterior's supremacy over the a priori.
This brings me to the beginning and to the end of my story, where before I left my burning house behind when standing in the street I was almost run over by a car with no driver at the wheel, as it rolled down the hill. Now don't worry there was an obvious explanation for this, as it was the hill I stood at the bottom of, waiting for impact but dodging at the last minute to go on my adventures.
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