22 March 2006

Throw 4 I Love Yous (Re-post)

The first "I love you" we ever hear is probably from a parent. Usually a mother.
Then we might hear it from a sibling or a relative or a close family friend.
A time comes when we start hearing "I love you"s all over the place.
Our friends are saying it.
Our mouths are saying it.
Our hearts are screaming it.
Our crotches burn with it.
Eventually we say "I love you" and mean it in a way we've never meant it before.
Magical first.
Desperate hunger.

***************************

I've been seeing someone for almost a month now.
There have been no "I love you"s, and I don't see them coming any time soon.
But it's no more or less there than any other situation I've been in prior to this. It's just quieter.

If anything, the unspoken "I love you" is there more because there is a sense of excitement, wonder, and anxiousness. The "I love you" is not thrown like a ventriloquist's voice.
What nervous joy to contemplate the ultimate surprise (and yes love), when someone has love to confess. What a gift. What a miracle.

********************************

I think of my mother. A woman with a sharp tongue, an at times scathing demeanor, and
a heart of gold. She says "I love you" at the end of every conversation, in person or on the phone. But the "I love you" is always a closer, a conclusion... never a focal point.

I don't know if I like the "I love you" as an afterthought. I want the "I love you" in the middle of a funny story, or after you pick me up when I fall on my face, as I am wont to do. Maybe this is fucked. My life is lived in a never-ending climax kind-of-way, therefore I guess it's only natural my desires and yearnings follow that curve.

************************************************************

The most significant love of my life doesn't speak to me any more. What's crazy is that I love him more than I did when I was with him. But that's how I'm wired. Perhaps I idealise the past; I do idealise the past. When "I hear I love you" I want to hear it forever. I don't want it for a few years and then have it taken away. I want it to breathe and live and change and grow and eventually, with me, expire. It's not that I believe in a "One" for everybody. I do think love is about commitment - to each other, and to the relationship more than anything. It is about experiencing life with somebody. And even if you're not fucking that person any more, up until almost 2 years ago, I have always found it very simple to maintain loving and powerful friendships with exes.

Obviously I have moved on. I've moved on in so many ways and changed so much I often feel like I've metaphorphed in a very Kafka kind-of-way... complete with the revelations, the epiphanies, and the resolve. But I still can not give up this silly human desire to love and be loved. To deny it would surely kill me! I've come so far, and I feel as if I've just begun.

08 March 2006

Stardom, Rejection, Veto Power; Satire and The Insatiable Need for Approval (Re-post)

Last night

1.
New York City. Chelsea. XL. America's Next Porn Idol. My roommate and friend Everett went because our friend Derek (*69 Records) was the makeshift Simon Cowell in the D/E-List panelist of "celebrity" judges.

2.
Living rooms worldwide. Fox. American Idol was seen in tens (hundreds?) of millions of homes around the world. Mandisa rocked the party fo' sho', but Catherine (whom my friends and I lovingly call "Nanny") McPhee totally brought up the rear.


Today

1.
New York City. Avenue of the Americas. UBS Warburg. 1 pm. Interviewed for a position I didn't really want, but knew they would want me for as soon as I walked into the office and sat down. Even though I had no interest in the nature of the position or even the field, I wanted a group of strangers' approval SO fiercely I could taste it. As soon as I knew they wanted me and were willing to pay for me, I began slipping in addages and stories I knew they would be tickled by or interested in enough to ask me a follow-up question about.

2.
New York City. My bedroom. 4 pm. Read somebody on Myspace's blog who has this experiment to go on 75 dates or something, and write about each guy/date. At first glance (date 1) I thought this was sort of an original idea. But by date 13 (current date), I really see this blog for what it is - a half-assed and rather lame attempt to stealthily justify promiscuity! Not only in hindsight does this poor bloggist seem like a whore, he relies on an HBO character's writing style to deliver his self-perpetuating cart of rat manure. I don't care how fabulous you think your New York life is, or how great you think your "snarky" style of writing is, YOUR LIFE IS NOT SEX IN THE CITY YOU STUPID FAGGOT. Get a clue, get a style, and then let's talk!

***

From American Idol and America's Next Top Model, to the growing trend of blogging, it's fast become obvious to me now that we are a culture obsessed with judging others. Many people are not blogging or contestants on American Idol or ANTM because they LOVE writing, or love singing, or LOVE modeling (!?!?), but instead they are there for VALIDATION and status. It's like blogs are the new Dior Handbag or Jimmy Choo sandals.

I feel like there is this elephant in the room nobody wants to acknowledge but we all know is there - swinging trunk, floppy ears, fear of mice, and everything! If we deny it, it doesn't exist, right?!? WRONG!

My sole intention in practicing my craft (writing and music) has never been to become famous or because I approval sought. Sure, praise and come-uppins are GREAT. Amazing record sales or getting picked up by a literary agency would definitely make me feel like I've made steps in realizing my dual dreams... but alas, I know that my insatiable need to CREATE will never be qualmed or quieted by a blue ribbon in ANY competition. Even if I was the winner of some TV beauty pageant. I am my biggest competitor, and I have only myself to deny or celebrate, and I think that goes for all of us.

My plea is for love. We need to put more love and care into our crafts. If you feel the need to create, do not create out of emulation (though inspiration is often found through mimisis)... create to interact! Give your fellow man (sorry girls) a REASON to think about your product in a way that engages them and perhaps even inspires THEM to create something.

It's like those HORRIBLE fake Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirts that were going around Wal-Marts in the 90s, or the miles of tables of fake Louis Vuitton handbags lining the streets of midtown and Canal Street. Everyone know's that it's fake, contrived crap. Maybe the people who bought them didn't... but there will always be people like that - the people who buy the fake shit for status because they can't afford the real deal, the people who vote for the Kellie Picklers or "the next Carrie Bradshaw"s.

Well I'll be the first to say - I DON'T WANT YOUR ADORATION. REJECT ME. I love it if you love me, but I really don't care if your lame ass thinks I or my work for that matter suck. Because people like you simply do not know how to think. For yourself, or anyone else let alone me.

When I read or listen to music I want to feel engaged, not like I have a ticket to see an ugly guy jerking off in the front seat from the back of a really ghetto silver 80's stretch limousine. GET ME THINKING. Don't just put your stupid and confusing shit on me, cuz I don't want it! I have my own to (not) make sense of, and to be honest - your shit de-inspires me and takes away my faith in humanity.

NOTICE something. Ask for guidance. Plead. Scream. Just please don't sit there masturbating and expect me to watch and wait until you're finished. Cuz I'll be gone, and by the time you get your clothes on, my shit will be in Times Square above the steaming Cup-O-Noodles. And by the way - your new handbag sucks.

Currently reading : Do You Suck as Well as Fuck? Totally Sexed Up Tales of J. Edgar Hoover's America By Ken Ichigawa Release date: December, 2005

02 March 2006

The NO NO Place - Courtesy E.T.Verett (Re-post)

My dog has cancer. He's almost 5 and he'll be dead before he's 6.

It's the year of the dog; transition, rebirth, renewal.

Controller. Controller is a really whatever band.

They remind me of a similarly-forgotten troupe: The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs... annnnnnnnd though some would cheer "Clap Your HANDS!!!!" NOOOOOO!!!

CONTROLLER. CONTROLLER *puke in mouth a little*

So.... I think

The Boy Least Likely To

and

LD and the New Criticism (after drinkin' it up with LD tonight at Phoenix)

ARE THE BEST CDS of ages.


Good

Night

(and good luck)

**************** FASHION KILLS



Currently listening : Best Party Ever By Boy Least Likely To Release date: 19 July, 2005