Thanks to all who posted on my last journal entry. It's a shame that it takes a movie to get people to coalesce (spell check, Cheech) around a subject that has touched us in varying ways. Maybe what most of us do on this site is the way it really should be in everyday life. Then again, maybe you all have some kind of "semi-intellectual idea exchange" outside of SG. Unfortunately, this is something I don't have so I rant and rave and ask questions all of the time.
Maybe the real question is "What ever happened to the day when we didn't have to entertain ourselves?"? Does that sentence structure even work? Good grief, here I go again...(Like a drifter I was bowen to walk alowowown...David Coverdale and Whitesnake images are flashing about).
Since I'm a non-musician I want to begin to work with space and the sounds between space. Granted, this is nothing new and many important modern composers of the 20th century have covered this stuff. This all just goes back to the entertaining of ones self. The usual distractions aren't cutting it. I want to be the creator of what distracts me from my life. Instead of watching Seinfeld or sketch comedy, I want to write something and then spend one half hour the next day reading it to myself. Does that sound schizophrenic? I want to be my own focus group. My own demographic. No more falling for clever advertising. Here's an ad I'm going to pitch to myself.
"Rusty Shank Lager"
Nothing says PRISON PISS like a hearty pint of RUSTY SHANK LAGER
The commercial is just going to be two guys (possibly the Barbarian Brothers) beating the shit out of each other with kitchen pipes.
Maybe this is an exercise we could all work on to wind down after a day of pleasing the despicable for inked paper. But not in some kind of arty, detatched manner like actually STUDYING art history and form or going to music school. Just apply ones imagination to the absurdity of our lives in this little capitalist maze. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, because I have a hard time putting what I think into cohesive sentences? Make the most of your prison sentence, maybe?
SOUNDTRACK OF THE DAY
Rolling Stone "Exile On Main St."
Yes, I am getting topical and ALL TIME TOP TEN ALBUMS FROM SHITTY MUSIC MAGAZINE on that ass. Sorry, the album whips a tiger sharks shiny be-hind. We could get obscure another day.
Maybe the real question is "What ever happened to the day when we didn't have to entertain ourselves?"? Does that sentence structure even work? Good grief, here I go again...(Like a drifter I was bowen to walk alowowown...David Coverdale and Whitesnake images are flashing about).
Since I'm a non-musician I want to begin to work with space and the sounds between space. Granted, this is nothing new and many important modern composers of the 20th century have covered this stuff. This all just goes back to the entertaining of ones self. The usual distractions aren't cutting it. I want to be the creator of what distracts me from my life. Instead of watching Seinfeld or sketch comedy, I want to write something and then spend one half hour the next day reading it to myself. Does that sound schizophrenic? I want to be my own focus group. My own demographic. No more falling for clever advertising. Here's an ad I'm going to pitch to myself.
"Rusty Shank Lager"
Nothing says PRISON PISS like a hearty pint of RUSTY SHANK LAGER
The commercial is just going to be two guys (possibly the Barbarian Brothers) beating the shit out of each other with kitchen pipes.
Maybe this is an exercise we could all work on to wind down after a day of pleasing the despicable for inked paper. But not in some kind of arty, detatched manner like actually STUDYING art history and form or going to music school. Just apply ones imagination to the absurdity of our lives in this little capitalist maze. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, because I have a hard time putting what I think into cohesive sentences? Make the most of your prison sentence, maybe?
SOUNDTRACK OF THE DAY
Rolling Stone "Exile On Main St."
Yes, I am getting topical and ALL TIME TOP TEN ALBUMS FROM SHITTY MUSIC MAGAZINE on that ass. Sorry, the album whips a tiger sharks shiny be-hind. We could get obscure another day.
never kept a dollar past sunset
always burned a hole in my pants