Notes. Notes for ideas. Ideas hidden in notes, waiting to explode everywhere, like the Big Bang.
The Big Bang make no sense. Lots of things don’t. Lots of people think they need lots of things. I don’t. But that’s because I’ve got lots of things in my head. It’s all coming from inside.
Okay, this shit sounds crazy, but everything different does when you’re normal. That’s what they say as they walk the Sunday markets, gazing at the arts and crafts, that’s their big word, “That’s different.”
I’m such a snob. I get pissed off at the behaviour of people who used to be me. There are only situations. I was lucky to become obsessed wth reading. My wish to escape the atmosphere at home, disappearing into the writing on a cereal packet, or a newspaper, gave me an education that makes me who I seem to be.
What makes me special is I know I’m special because I’m lucky.
Bad CGI
The thing is, you can write about how you don’t feel like writing. That’s exciting. As exciting as bad CGI, maybe, but exciting.
I’m a bit concerned these attacks in Mumbai have been carried out by people with a very poor grasp of marketing. What, they can’t get some Tshirts printed up? Why go to all the effort of a major suicide mission if you’re not going to maximize your branding opportunities while doing so? That’s the weirdest thing about this tragedy: no-one knows who’s doing it.
Stories
Currently, I’m thinking about the power of stories. I don’t mean in some airy-fairy, arty farty, I’m OK, You’re OK, feelgood, let’s celebrate diversity, wankfest kind of way. What interests me is that the magic of storytelling is poorly understood- possibly even by me, and I want to get to the heart of the matter because I reckon the story about stories is pretty straightforward.
We need to talk amongst ourselves to get things done, and we don’t have the time to describe things in microscopic detail. We need a story that gives us a general idea of what’s going, some clues, and some few things to agree on, so we don’t tread on each other’s toes. It’s simple.
It’s pretty clear we can’t always agree on what reality is, which is a shame, because as I understand it, in shamanic cultures people are expected to discover their own reality. You’re expected to have your own evolving story, and this story is no threat to the group, its actually what you bring to the group.
When I can relax and see life as a game where you win by creating your own story, I am happy. When I feel like other people’s stories- stories that don’t suit me- are squashing down on my life, I am sad.
Everyone has to go on his little spirit walk for himself and discover what dreams- or bullshit- suits him and where he wants to live in himself. Because the inside of yourself is vast, and there are many versions of you in there, and you need a good story to get all those selves to work together and face the world in a forward manner.
If you spend a lot of time reading magazines, or online, it’s easy to think there’s no such thing as commonsense anymore. Fairly conservative people feel this way, like the world’s gone mad because it’s not like the old days- but people have always gotten up to strange bullshit, so there’s no point freaking out.
People have told each other stories since the dawn of time. It’s how we organize ourselves to hunt the woolly mammoth without too many of us getting trapped under it’s big fucking feet. The stories we tell to get that group activity done can include any bullshit we feel is necessary to keep everyone, including ourselves, motivated. We tell each other stories, but somewhere along the way that simple fact has been lost and we get caught up splitting hairs about “facts”. It’s tiresome. You end up with these story wars, 9/11 Truthers being a classic example of a story that is being fought for tooth and nail by people who’ve forgotten that The Truth is just whatever story is the most helpful today.
A couple of days ago I’m on the phone and we’re talking about how Barack Obama is one of the greatest speakers the world has seen for a very long time. Suddenly the person I’m speaking about said, “Of course, it doesn’t mean anything.” I’m thinking, “How the fuck does that attitude tell a story I can do anything with? It doesn’t mean anything? What does that even mean?” What it meant was the person subconsciously wanted to shut down the “hope” story and get back to the “disappointment” story. At least, that’s the story as I’m seeing it.
I hate paying taxes.
Guys who do their eyebrows.
The great thing about an RSS feed is their is truly horrible war crime shit to break up the stories of boring retardedness.
There’s a whole world out there, but your decided to become a furry.
It’s important not to slip into faux outrage.
The incidence of breast cancer hs risen in every country with screening.
Don’t be frightened of the rich.
Obviously you can’t spend the rest of your life riding a rollercoaster.
Climate Change Denial is the new being a fucking arsehole. I can’t believe these people. Some of them are people I like, who I now find it hard to think about as serious adults.
What is your point, fucker? What are you trying to say in your cunthead language? Why would you do that?
I despise the voice of reason.
Financial Doomsday
Productivity is bullshit. Efficiency has become an obsession in the world of economic rationalists, stroked themselves with joy at wonderful, wonderful, beautifully balancing numbers.
It’s all falling apart, at least I hope it is, and what I mean is their stupid world-view is crumbling. We’ll survive, the world won’t end, but maps into bullshit territory will burn under the magnifying glass of truth.
What is truth? It’s not money, it’s not competition or popularity or war or shopping.
There’s a story here, there are more than a few stories, and one of them is about the sad demise of neo-liberal, neo-con, neo-asshole sophistry, wank, bluster, and foolness.
Hard work is probably a good thing. It’s good to push and press and try to make shit happen. I’d like to see people like me squeezing the juice out of each day because we are being presented with an opportunity to force our perspective onto the situation.
We’ve watched as conservative leaders fell under the sway of idiot-selfish philosophies, where personal responsibility is more important than being part of the world around you, where it’s every man for himself, as if people find it impossible to cooperate.
There’s the fantasy that folks are destined to fuck things up, as if nothing has ever been achieved, no-one’s ever been happy. Our cities breed miserable bastards because they overwhelm the senses until you just want to switch off. But it’s not all sadness, and we tend to overlook the good. We tend to overlook the wonderfully human ant-farm aspect of our life, crammed together, holding open doors for one another, enjoying our little moments of simple helpfulness.
We tend to think there is some secret magic reason why bad shit happens. Even scientists are thinking they’ll find some crucial aspect of our DNA that will explain everything. It’s often so much bullshit. We can see the truth if we care to look at what is right in front of us, and we don’t need fancy equipment. We don’t take enough responsiblity for our habit of projecting what we want to see onto the world around us.
What am I trying to say here? I’m not one hundred percent sure. This financial crisis seems like a golden chance to rupture reality. Commonsense isn’t always marvellous and useful, sometimes you need to be counter-intuitive, because your thinking is happening in the shape of all of your beliefs. You’re being railroaded by your own mind into seeing what you already think you need to see, but you need to see what you don’t expect. Me too, I need to keep firing up my third eye.
It’s an overcast Monday morning here in Melbourne. There are so many things I could do today, I am overwhelmed by my own freedom, bombarded by choices, and probably suffering some kind of information overload. We live in a time where our senses are more asleep than they’ve ever been, while our minds are overstimulated. As in all of history, some things used to be better, some things are new and excellent and good, and the dumbest approach to all of it is to try to come up with some kind of bullshit philosophy that explains all of it. It’s just been proved we’re not even capable of a philosophy to guide us in the marketplace.
I’m always looking for the hole in the dead story that stretches across the world’s face like a suffocating plastic bag. Because it’s such a hopeless story! It leads nowhere, it’s all about insecure pyschos desperately consolidating their power. And while they pursue their impossible dream they trample on people without a second thought. It’s law of the jungle bullshit. Life isn’t a fucking race, but these fuckers don’t know how to enjoy themselves, and I’m sick of walking around with egg on my face. If you think there is a better way, why be embarrassed about it? But those of us who dream about a less hateful, more magical life are bombarded with messages that we are flakes.
Top-down economic models have ruined too many people’s lives. Now that the financial crisis is here, a lot of motherfuckers in denial are doing everything but admit the free market religion has burned out spectacularly. I don’t hold out any great hope that the propaganda of over-consumption will disappear and that people will wake up in huge numbers. All I know is I’ll continue my dive as I try to drop further out of this rubbish situation.
You’ve got to live your own life, but the free marketeers have only imposed a dumbass lifestyle on the planet that is as hard to escape as any other doomsday cult.
Haven’t written a word for days, but the camera has been getting a workout. Three days in Rome, and this is the fifth day in Paris. Been recording more material than I can use. thinking today I’ll upload the long versions on my theotherbedlam youtube channell.
Been walking the streets. We buy food from markets and live on sandwiches to keep our money from disappearing. It’s hard work and a lot of fun at the same time. I reckon we would have as much fun if we had the money to eat at restaurants every day, but I doubt we’re having less fun by being resourceful.
Just buying food is exciting when you don’t speak the language anywhere near fluently.
Lesbian couple meeting friend who has a daughter. In a cafe. They child is an advertisment for childless lesbianism. The lesbians look so happy as they walk away.
The world has collapsed before, but this one is too complicated. Roofs of greenery into the distance, underneath, children playing in the cool vegetable quiet, flitting between moments of filtered light. All this was concrete once, but then we realized this was only the scaffold. We were to grow over and around and through, harvesting luxury from potential disaster. We were stunned that we’d ever lived so badly.
We fell through time, off a cliff, into a sea of possibility. It was overwhelming, but because it was possible we survived. Some of us even thrived. On the other side of the universe a small child whimpered in it’s sleep.
Curtains of time-fog obscured the view, so I closed my eyes and concentrated. I felt tired, but resting my sight helped, and an image like radar guided me home. Home was the beginning. No-one was telling me to stay put. I could go.
The centre was everything, I could start anywhere, it didn’t matter. Utraviolet rays glossed over the surface of the sea, and as I flew the horizon retreated into forever. The more distance I covered, the more space I created.
There was talk of poetry, with some wondering if it was a disease. Mistrust filled the air like cherry-blossoms. They lived off their own bullshit. Their lies tasted good. Being around their conversation was like wondering what it would be like to be tazed.
I could close my eyes any time I wanted. It hurt to know I couldn’t- or shouldn’t- communicate this simple fact. There was no holding hands in the diving-off. You either did it or you didn’t. Many died while making up their minds.
I needed a break from the news cycle. It made you crazy, there was no way to stop it, you couldn’t hold it all in, and it broke over you. They were drowning, but it was okay for them, they wanted to die. I knew I would too, one day, but first I wanted to expand.
There were so many reasons to go back to dreamless sleep, but in the true universe of creativity you had to ask yourself, why throw it all away? Yes, there were demons, but they lived in their own heads. They were a threat and a danger, but they were also pathetic and weak, crazed by their own failure.
All they had was mockery, grinding their super-white teeth in terror. They saw the abyss, the future that grew like a jungle to take them home. We waited and worked in the garden for the pollen to rise and float towards our enemies. It was fun, really.
Once upon a time, in fact, scratch that.
McCain’s people are still pushing their super-debunked shit. It’s astonishing. But they fail.
I can’t fucking concentrate.
Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects. Piecing together the stupid fucking puzzle. “America has done some pretty crummy stuff”. Cutesy, folksy, wanky language.
This war on terror has gotten a little bit circular. Since when did guerilla warfare become “terror”? You people are softcocks.
Listening to high-minded bullshit while you travel the world, crossing borders and killing people.
McCain is no hero. American commandos just made an attack inside Syria, but what do you want to talk about?
