And how was your day? and how was your day? and how was your day at every moment step stop of the way could be doing anything, so I decided I would. Stop writing about writing, talking about talking, dreaming about dreaming. Now I do about doing. I am on sabbatical, become every bit as magical as pretends, as religious as I really am not, out of the world and into myself seen through myself and not the eyes of waiting for the next open wide big lie invitation, welcome to frustration and misunderstanding. When you dream, you don’t leave. It’s all you—all the time.
Uh… in other news… Kevin Kautzman of Cassiel Alpha interviewed me. Read the transcript and perhaps check out some others, including West Thordson of A Whisper in the Noise who graciously allowed us to hear a demo of their upcoming currently untitled sophomore release, with hope available in January. The album will eat the hearts of your teenaged grandchildren.
In rather inconsequential site news, the hit counter at the very bottom of the news page broke, so I got a new one, obtained here. I don’t know how many hits I had before the crash, so I’m starting at 3414 and calling it good. There’s no ads involved with this counter which oddly enough compels me to advertise for them. So check it out if you’re into webbish stuff and no ads, though maybe give it a week to make sure it runs smoothly.
Speaking of advertising, this past Thanksgiving weekend in the company of family I watched more TV than I have in the past year. It was nauseating, and I don’t know if it’s gotten really bad, or if I’ve become so jaded, but I get severely tense and malicious and angry and violent whenever commercials come on (which is about every ten minutes). I was trying to watch movies and nearly combusted.
I will never own a television meant for TV. Not only does one have to deal with commercial breaks (which more often than not show the same ads, even within the same “break”—do they think that Teletubbie “again! again!” shite is necessary for adults, too?), they run the banners across the bottom advertising upcoming shows or throw their enormous, distracting, ugly logo in the corner.
Yeah, this is ranting, but chrise. Are people not complaining? Do they think this makes sense? When cable television first arrived, you paid not for channel selection, but for not having to watch ads. Do you remember that? How about going to the movie theater and not having to pay eight bucks to sit through slide-show commercials and that asinine “Find the Coke bottles!” exercise in brand awareness? Are you aware that a proposed use for CGI is slipping products in TV show reruns—a can of Sprite on a countertop one day, a box of Cheerios the next?
Marketers, corporations, hell, even consumers themselves believe advertisers have the right to sell to me—everything is cluttered with desire for the empty, the promise to fill needs I didn’t know I didn’t have, all the while crushing social-cultural consciousness with the understanding that I’m not sophisticated or hip or hardworking enough to pay for things I don’t want when I tune out, when I turn away, when I say I’m not a have-not, I’m a don’t-want, well, fuck that noise.
And it’s noise. And it’s everywhere. Take a marker and black out every ad in the newspaper and see how much you have left—news content, whatever that means, and ink in your marker. Think of every minute, every hour you waste every day paying attention, and how appropriate—you “pay” attention, because they’re not buying it, at least not from you. I hope you all participated in Buy Nothing Day. If not, just leave, you disgust me.
Tomorrow is my four-year anniversary as a vegetarian. I invite you to enter The Meatrix. …And leave it.
Have a nice day.
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