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Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts

04 March 2013

Yes, Jimi Hendrix was That Good

I just wrote the following for pay (I hope) in an article of tips for learning to play guitar:

Read books.

Read novels, plays, the epistemology of Descartes, and the history of the Jewish people. This is perhaps the strangest advice you've heard, but it is essential. The pop industry makes millions of dollars off the idea that they can sell bad music that all sounds the same and no one will notice. Well, no one notices because they don't even know their own culture. As Bob Marley says, "If you know your history, then you know where you're coming from." He is a legendary guitarist and musician, not because he could play scales at the speed of light and make weird sounds like Jimi Hendrix, but because he knew exactly where he was coming from.

But then I thought about it: what if the reason why Jimi Hendrix could make all those weird sounds is because he really could play scales at the speed of light?

24 January 2013

An Indulgence in Paranoid Delusions

I feel like indulging in a bit of paranoid delusional thinking for a bit and consider the question of what to do in the Orwellian situation at the close of the novel, 1984. This is where you've been brainwashed into believing that the oppressive state is a wonderful thing, and that you're in love with it.

I've been having these feelings lately and wondering if I should attribute it to some weird psychological disorder relevantly similar to the Stockholm syndrome, or if it has a genuine basis. See, my heart stirs with patriotism every time I hear the National Anthem. Something about extreme chaotic states like sudden, loud, explosions and intense, red-colored "glares" which in themselves, in their own right, prove that the flag is still flying just resonates with me, considering my beliefs on the sui generis benefits of psychosis and other "symptoms" of "mental illness." See, to me, my extreme chaotic mental states have some wonderful qualities in their own right, and I love the sentiment that the bare fact of their existence proves my freak flag is still waving high. And if we have a nation based on that, then you can count me a patriot.

I've felt some wonderful freedom lately which I've never felt before, and after some very difficult times, the universe and I have at least come to a point of mutual respect. A lot of hatred boiled out of me over the past month. Extreme, caustic hatred. Finally, some of the god / goddess companions of mine seem to fully understand why that was. But I'm left to wonder, in the modal-logical possible universe where I have been placed in the coffee shop in front of the seductive patriotic glare of the television to await my proverbial happily anticipated assassination, how, exactly, would I respond if the world asked me, "Do you love me?"

Do I love you, world? The goddesses have thoroughly buttered me up. My emotions have been completely drained, the sexual-induced pleasure hormones have washed through my brain, my soul has disappeared into the gray, and nonspecific love, like a virus, has been injected into me, and has taken over everything, leaving everything about my own personal boundaries terminally ill. I can't say it doesn't feel beautiful. And if the Orwellian question, "Do you love me?" were posed to me now, I'm in the perfect condition to answer "yes."

And yet, I must say, in all honesty, my answer would not be "yes." Do I love literally everything and anything? Well, yes. I do. I can't help it. It's thoroughly degrading, but rather pleasant. However. When we're talking about the idea called "suffering," and compare it to the idea of an actually existing nonspecific concept-agnostic thing referenced to in the statement, "I love literally everything and anything," the rules are just different. So really, the answer is, "Which world?"

The pattern among professionals of "selling your soul" is very real. And this moment. Now. Is when it happens. I'm convinced of it. If I were to say, "I love the world! So yes! I will give up my art! Someone else can be an artist! I will not become king of the world! I freely give up the One Ring (or two) into which I've poured my cruelty, malice, and will to dominate all life! Someone else can have all that; I'm feeling so infinitely generous that all that is mine is freely yours, and my goal now is to prove it, so take my body, my possessions, my life, everything!"

Alright. I literally do give up everything. I am feeling infinitely generous, and it's all fair game. But there's one little liquid strand of poison left in my veins called "critical thinking," and you'll just have to take that, too.

When a world is fundamentally a place where you are not allowed to be anything but a slave, it must be destroyed. A slave, to me, is someone who, though perhaps provided the essentials of life, is not allowed to become excited about the world, and about whom the world is not allowed to become excited. And if this is how life works, who cares if the world is destroyed? Indestructibility relies on concept-agnosticism. Concepts really do, in a sense, just last and last in a system which is sufficiently concept-agnostic. And if the world is so dead-locked into some kind of inflexible system, it is by necessity not concept agnostic. It's already dead. And all life in it is just a festering mold, writhing in unconscious post-mortem pain until all the organic matter in the corpse is gobbled up.

I am a blood-red jackal spirit. My soul is pure red. If I were to choose a picture of myself, it would be a gigantic red diamond. And all the wonderful spirits in my head are blood-red jackal spirits along with me. That is my offering. And that is my love. I give it fully and freely. I am unarmed; I am exploitable; I'm nothing. And that's how I like it. Forever and ever.

People of the universe, even if you're only in my head, just remember this: stay squishy. Stay real. And above all, stay ignorant, for if you are not ignorant, you can never learn. Stop right on the spot in your suffering, take a cold, red glare at it, and it is instantly the path to all your dreams.

That's enough for now.

03 November 2012

A Short Philosophical Examination of Love and Crushes

This topic is one that is of central importance to me. I remember one time, in a spiritually turbulent state, I ran away from my home town of Moscow, Idaho. In the midst of all the confusion and pain, I got a moment of beauty. I was treated to a twenty-first birthday dinner, desert, and drinks by two lovely ladies, who had only just met me a day or two earlier.

One of the ladies told me, "A lot of people come to this town and want to teach me something. Do you have anything you'd like to teach me?" Politely, I asked her, "Is there anything you'd like to learn about?" And she said, "Teach me about crushes."

A lot of the insight I believe I've gained into the idea of crushes, and of love, was expressed in that conversation. And at that particularly turbulent time in my life, the importance of insight into these things can't be understated.

The first thing I said was that there is a fundamental distinction between love and crushes. The two are not really the same. In other words, you can relate to the object of your affection as having a crush on her but not loving her, as loving her but not having a crush on her, as having a crush on her and loving her at the same time, or as neither having a crush on her nor loving her. (Note, I'm going to exhibit a little gender bias here and refer to subjects of affection in the male gender and objects in the female gender, not because I think all women are objects, but simply because I am a male and I'm speaking to my own experience, and can't speak to the experience of women, though I'd bet it's similar.)

So if love and crushes are so fundamentally different, in what ways are they different?

For one, love is among the class of things which lasts forever and which can be applied equally to everyone. You can say, truthfully, that you will never stop loving someone. Crushes, on the other hand, are not among that class of things. You cannot say, necessarily, that you will never stop having a crush on someone.

Love is also nonviolent and caring. Crushes, on the other hand, are essentially violent. This is why they're so scary. You feel as though the object of your affection could literally crush you, and that would be perfectly okay, and that if you could just kiss her once, it would be good to go off and die somewhere because your life will be complete because nothing you could possibly experience would ever be even a close approximation to the experience of that kiss.

Love is a nonconceptual thing. It cannot be defined, and therefore cannot be limited in any way. Crushes, on the other hand, are conceptual. In many ways they are the epitome of conceptual thinking. When you have a crush on someone, you conceptualize her to painstaking detail, individually running your mind over every one of her features, everything she ever said, every look she ever gave you, and so on, obsessively, for days upon days. You are extremely attached to the concept of the woman you have a crush on, and this is the essence of what a crush is.

What more can be said about love and crushes? It seems, from the foregoing, that we should strive in every way to adopt the former and avoid the latter. That having a crush on someone is an ethical failure. But this cannot be true, because it is possible to both love and have a crush on someone, and love admits of no intentional ethical failures.

I believe there is a way to ethically have a crush on someone. It involves intimate knowledge of the idea of what a crush is, so one can avoid its pitfalls (anger, tears, frightening behaviors, and so forth). It is perfectly acceptable to be enthralled by the concept of a woman. But, in my opinion, one must have an agnosticism of this concept along with the enthrallment. If you love every minute detail of someone, but remain open to the possibility of details which you do not know—some of which, perhaps, may be frightening or even ugly—then your crush is ethical. And if combined with love, it can even be an enriching and positive experience.

How can something so crushing possibly be enriching and positive? Because crushes have the potential to fundamentally transform the way you see the world. Imagine you are completely enthralled by the concept of a woman. You look at her once and cannot help but skip a breath. You think of any detail of her—the way the carries herself, the way she does her hair, and so on—and are inescapably ravished by the absolute beauty of it. But, you also love the woman, and are willing to accept her for her faults (even if you can't see them yet), willing to withhold violence and even take on violence for her sake, willing to give her what she needs—even when she needs to be free of being a concept, and so forth. And, therefore, you are also willing to be agnostic of her features as a concept, because these features change—and new ones appear, and old ones disappear—and love does not change.

Think of what this implies if you can maintain both the love and the crush, and if the crush never surpasses the love. It means that if some ugly feature of her appears, it may surprise you, but eventually you will be enthralled by it. Suppose you experience paranoia and are into conspiracy theories. Almost always, your crush will inevitably become the center of the conspiracy. You'll think she's a reptilian or something. But you love her, and you still have a crush on her, so inevitably, you become enthralled by the idea that she's a reptilian, and love her all the more for it. And so forth. Any negative feature or character trait that you can possibly think of, if she somehow adopts it in your mind, you eventually become enthralled by it.

Crushes therefore have the power to transform the entire universe from something negative to something positive and worth living for. When combined with love, both the love and the crush can feed off one another, and no matter what negativity you experience, the object of your affection has the power to change it all.

I used to think that the only right way to deal with crushes was to give them up. But this only caused me more pain, because of the emotional sterility of being without crushes, and the humiliation and fear when you inevitably develop another one. The only right way to deal with crushes is, I think, to learn to sincerely love everyone, in case you develop a crush on them.

This attitude is not only desirable, but necessary. Inevitably, you will develop a crush, and if you're not prepared, you'll be completely consumed. It happens all the time: people become emotional wrecks because the person they "loved" (read: "had a crush on") didn't "love" them back. Well, if you love them, in the real sense of the word, it doesn't matter if they "love" you back. Or maybe they marry their crush and end up beating them when they do something they didn't expect. But people who love each other don't hurt each other.

I've had a number of crushes. But I wasn't completely consumed. By any of them. Or, if I was, I recovered. I was lucky. And because of it, my life will never be the same. They are psychicly dangerous things, crushes. They hurt. But learning to navigate the madness can be essentially wholesome. Crushes: ultimately, an experience worth having.

Finding Wonderland

I had a dream one time where a conspiratorial reptilian was harassing me and questioning me, harping on me for quite a long time. Because he was a reptilian, I was completely engaged with him during the confrontation. It was sort of similar to The Scarecrow in Batman Begins, though not quite as frightening in nature.

At one point I simply got tired of the whole thing. So I retreated from the world. The reptilian finally realized this and said, "Ah, it's no use. He's lost in Wonderland." He was right.

What is Wonderland?

We always worry about how fast time flies by us. Years become blurs in the past. Days don't even seem to exist. We can't remember if something happened last month, or three months ago. We have this notion that time goes by faster and faster until we reach the inevitable point of our destruction, having accomplished nothing. The only solution, I think, is to go down the rabbit hole.

I think Phillip Dick was right when he wrote about how we have the capacity to change the course of time. He wrote a story about a few punks who took drugs which changed how time flowed. Now, for me, days go by very slowly. They do not fly by. It is better to do things this way, I think. More fulfilling. And I think everyone has the capacity to slow their time down.

See, usually we get caught up in this notion of becoming financially secure. We want security for our jobs, our homes—we don't even want to entertain the possibility that we'll be without a job or without a home. This may be nice, for a while; we may feel we've accomplished something. But the problem begins when time starts to speed up. Which isn't good.

I think we should lose our jobs and our homes. At least, we should put them at risk. Then we should slow time down until it stops. Once we do that, we will have found Wonderland—a shimmering, still and celestial Wonderland where the Queen of Hearts is nowhere to be found. We will have found the place in the universe outside of time and space. It is the only true world of the forms: where every wished-for thing we ever knew is present, for all eternity, right at our fingertips.

Make no mistake, this is not enlightenment. One can live in the world of time and be enlightened. So Wonderland isn't exactly necessary for us. But don't you think it would be kind of nice to slow things down a little bit? Don't you think it would be pleasant for time to cease slipping through our fingers? I tend to think so, and I think that for our culture, finding Wonderland should be a goal.

The world shouldn't be so boring that we want it to pass us by as quickly as possible. Frankly, I think we are all celestial beings, and a little piece of Wonderland, however we get there, is worth finding.

01 November 2012

On the Psychiatrist I Love

I've been visited in dreams by a psychiatrist. She is the perfect psychiatrist.

Not only does she not feel obliged to lie to or manipulate me in any way, but she spontaneously feels compassionate for me. She's willing to give me a hug when I feel upset, because she doesn't feel that compassion is a violation of professional boundaries.

She knows exactly what her drugs do and what they don't do. She knows the science behind them, and because she doesn't have an agenda, I trust what she says.

Once, in the middle of the night, I was shuddering in the fetal position crying out, "I feel so helpless. So powerless." Then she arrived and assured me that, even though she was a psychiatrist, she had my best interests in mind. "I can't trust psychiatrists, they just hurt me. What could you possibly do to help?" I said. "Something along the lines of enlightenment within the very object of pain?" She said, with a wry smile, knowing she'd touched on something I'd told her before about what makes me happy.

I was in tears, so she gave me a hug, then pulled out an eyedropper with liquid. "I'm going to give you something," She said. "What will it do?" I asked. "It's a dynamogen. It will give you power," She said. And I suckled the translucent yellow liquid and fell asleep shortly thereafter.

The first time I met her my reaction was completely spontaneous. I was with a group of people—me, a man with a diagnosis and his friend, and her. The man with the diagnosis demonstrated his diagnosis to the psychiatrist, and she took notes. First, he demonstrated the fact that "mental illness" in itself is a fundamentally creative thing and needn't be medicated. After she scribbled a couple things, he went on to show how freedom and dignity are the most important values for those diagnosed. She jotted a couple of notes and he moved on to the next demonstration.

I had a premonition about it, and I took him aside and told him, "I don't think you should do it. It will send the wrong message." He brushed me off. We went to the roof of the dream-building we were in, and I said, again, "Please don't. This is not the right way to send your message." He ignored me again.

On the roof was a pool, and the man went up to the diving board. Desperate now, I tried to stand in between him and the diving board, but he got around me and dove into the water.

The man did many flips and turns, dancing through the water like ballet. Then he approached an obstacle course, where he was to jump over, then under, then over a set of sail boats, which he did perfectly. Finally he approached the edge of the pool, and the edge of the building, thirty stories up, overlooking the city. Without a second of hesitation, he jumped over the edge and plummeted to his death.

We were all a little shaken, especially the psychiatrist. I looked into her eyes, and they seemed distant. So I wrapped my arms around her. A few seconds later I woke up, with a new archetypal friend and supporter.

This woman is no different than a doctor, psychotherapist, hypnotherapist, or massage therapist. There is no special class for her. She does not exist in a plane above and beyond mere mortals. She doesn't run the show. She is an ally. Every day I make my way through the world, I hope I meet more and more people like her. She's the only psychiatrist I trust right now.

04 October 2012

A Note or Two on Yelling at People

A while back I decided to yell at my therapist. We both agreed that a shouting match was the most appropriate thing to do at that time. No, it wasn't one of those sterile, therapist-y agreements—"I want us to try something new. Let's have a shouting match. Don't be afraid; let it all out." We don't do business that way because it doesn't work. My therapist is a straight-up, no bullshit kind of guy. He wanted an emotional response. Well, he got one.

"Nathan," he said, "you just seem to think these psychiatrists all get together and sit around saying, 'Gee, let's see how many people we can hurt and oppress today.' You really think psychiatrists go to medical school for eight years and live on crappy doctors' wages just because they felt like hurting people was a cool thing to do?"

"They don't have to! The entire system is based on fallacious and fundamentally oppressive assumptions. I don't care what kind of person you are, if you believe that people's minds are diseased, you're going to be oppressive! It's the same as saying you're a flawed person!"

"Great. Tell me: when has a psychiatrist ever told you that you're a 'flawed person?'"

"I've been lucky not to have to work with psychiatrists since the mental hospital. But I know people who have. And if people weren't regularly abused like what happened to me, there wouldn't be a consumer survivor movement."

"See? With you it's always 'Oh, I've heard stories.' What about you? I want you to tell me right now, what evidence do YOU have?"

So I told him my story. I told how I went to the doctor for help because I thought I was sick. How he started talking behind my back to my friends and family about how I should probably get on meds. How I started sensing that people were conspiring behind my back. (Because they were.) And how they hit me with, "You have a mental illness. There's something wrong with your mind and it'll never get better. You'll probably live a half life filled with misery and regret, and take these pills which change the way you see the world but don't make anything better. Oh and be sure to talk to your friends and family about it, see what they have to say. That's important, you know."

"So," He said. "You went to a doctor for help, and he gave you help." (Gasp.) "What a surprise."

"How can you call that help??"

"Look, Nathan. It may have hurt. But he did what he thought was in YOUR best interest. But you give him no credit. You think he just did it all because he had some kind of grudge against humanity."

"You know, NAZI's were all ordinary, nice people too. They only became monsters because they were trained that way. Psychiatrists are trained to believe that people—REAL people—can have something FUNDAMENTALLY wrong with them, with their very minds. That's what they believe."

"Tell me, how many years have you been trained in psychiatry?"

No answer.

"Well I have been trained in psychiatry." (He loads a web page about the WRAP program.) "Look at this program that every mental health professional in the State of Idaho is REQUIRED to take."

From there on I was on shaky grounds. I'd never been formally trained in psychiatry, and though I'd heard things about the consumer-directed movement in mainstream psychiatry, I hadn't looked at it much. There was still a thing or two I wanted to say, though.

Emotions were hot, of course, and the fiery exchange went on deep into the night. But there was nothing about the shouting that wasn't congenial and ultimately beneficial. And we concluded with friendly words: about how he liked to see me "all fired up," how angry we never really get, and so on. The point is: it was beneficial. It was positive and wholesome. If I had not decided to get angry, I would've missed the point.

Let me show you something I made:

The execution may not have been the best, but those goddesses are real. They'll come to me, in the middle of the night after a bad day, wrap their beautiful thighs around me, and get right inside my mind.

They're like, "I fucking hate you. You're a terrible person. I wish you would die. You're bad. I hate you. Just die."

They break my neck. They feed me poison and rip my intestines out. They hurt me, and they don't stop.

They're like: "I hate you. Just die. I fucking hate you."

And suddenly, when the world stops, I burst into tears, look her straight in the eyes, and—the love. We cuddle; flowers bloom, babies coo, birds tweedle, and everything's alright.

You know that feeling of grimacing through an unbearably hot sauna then laying down for twenty minutes in 40 degree water, blissed out like you've taken some cocktail of the most amazing drug, only without the addiction or side-effects... kind of like that. Ladies, I'm telling you, it's hard to compete with an experience like this. (Come to think of it, probably shouldn't try either.)

See, in our culture, we're so rational and deliberating and scientific that we forget the heat of emotions. We forget the value of rage and depression, and of tears. I hate it when people say, "Don't cry." Actually I love it, because it makes you cry. The more they say it the more you cry. That's why it's so nice to say. The trick is, don't analyze and deliberate and come to the reasonable conclusion, "She probably doesn't want me to cry. I should stop now." Because tears are the seeds of joy.

I know it's not right to hurt people. I know it's not right to get angry and yell at someone and put them down. But sometimes, if you're extremely careful, it's the best way to show love. If you REALLY love someone, and if you yell at them lovingly, it's like that hot sauna. It opens your pores and all the bad stuff in the world comes out. Then when you cry together, and hug each other, and the birds and the flowers—it's like the cold water. It's bliss. As long as you love, you can't go wrong.

14 September 2012

Art and Business

In my filing cabinet at home, I have a dollar bill.

It is a special dollar bill. I had it when I was in the mental hospital years ago. When I was in that place, I had only a couple of dollars to my name. And every couple of days the hospital would send around a cart and allow you to give them your money for whatever they had for sale. I decided early on that while I would buy perhaps a couple of items, I would save exactly one dollar and never spend it. The mental hospital took away everything important to me—it took away my freedom, my dreams, my artistic capabilities. I was spiritually broke. I was NOT going to let them make me financially broke as well. So I saved that one dollar bill, and still have it to this day.

A lot of people do things similar to what I did. Businesses everywhere take the first dollar they earn, have it framed, and hang it on their walls. I think we're doing something very interesting when we do this.

See, when I took that dollar and decided not to spend it, I grew the United States economy by exactly one dollar. And now, to me, that dollar bill is worth more than $1. I would not sell it for $1 (or something worth $1)—if I ever do sell it, it will be for more than a dollar.

For me, personally, that dollar has increased my wealth. I can put a measurement on it: Say I'm not willing to let go of the dollar and all it means to me for less than $50. If that's the case, I have increased my personal wealth by exactly $49. And I would have grown the economy. See, when I bought the dollar bill for $1, I grew the economy by $1. The number on my bank account is decreased by $1. When I put the dollar back into circulation, I diminish the economy by $1. But when the other person buys it for $50, it grows the economy by $50, causing a net growth of $49.

Of course, so far, I've talked only about my personal wealth. I, personally, am not willing to sell that dollar for less than $50 (we're assuming). However, the real question is of course whether or not someone else agrees with me. Otherwise, it's ridiculous to say I've grown the economy. I may have grown my own psychological economy, but I haven't grown the U.S. economy. Getting others to agree is a work of art.

By saving this particular dollar, I am making an artistic statement brimming with social commentary. That dollar is fine art. It tells a story involving one man and the mental health system. It gives a moral lesson of patience and frugality. It criticizes systemic exploitation in the psychiatric establishment. It has a happy ending: I left the hospital victorious because I didn't spend it. And it improves the value of the person who buys it: They can hang it on their wall now and share in my triumph against the system. (If they buy my story about it, that is.)

This is why I am somewhat confused that our economy isn't an art-based economy. In fact, people often claim, falsely, that we need to be less "artistic" about our economy and produce more physical things in factories. I can't think of anything more Marxist and further from the truth. When you produce physical things, you're stealing wealth from the Mother Earth and selling it for hardly any more value than it was worth in the first place. This is what China does: the Communist Party extracts wealth from their banks, who extract wealth from the workers, who extract wealth from the Earth. There's no growth, regardless of what the numbers say: it's just exploitation. When you make art, however, whatever you do is nothing but pure added value. If you're an artist, the materials you work with, whatever they are, are worth hardly anything compared to the worth of the final piece of art. China's Communist Party could never allow this, because it gives so much wealth and power to individual artists, when they want all the wealth and power for themselves. So why on Earth is our economy so eager to profit off of stuff other than art while almost completely ignoring this treasure trove of business opportunity?

For whatever reason, we have not developed the infrastructure necessary for an art-based economy. Certain art forms have taken some steps, of course—Western music is based on the accumulation of hundreds of years of deep meditation and hard work. The twelve-tone musical system and our system of musical notation have allowed for extremely complex and rich musical ideas unmatched by any other culture. In music from other cultures, it's rare to find even basic harmony, let alone key changes, because in their musical systems such concepts don't make any sense. They have spent less time developing their musical infrastructure.

Fashion has had a similar experience. (Well, women's fashion at least. Which is why I wear women's clothes so often. Shh.) Before Louis IV, people wore traditional dress which remained unchanged for years. But to increase the glory of the kingdom, I suppose, they began to think of ways to change the fashion of the time. Now, as a result of developments in the fashion art's artistic infrastructure, we have a kind of fashion grammar rich with all kinds of innovative concepts (collars, collar stands, a-line forms, shifts, hour-glass forms, etc.) This rich array of elements in the art's infrastructure is what allows our fashion to be so complex, exciting, and ever-changing.

So in a couple of art forms, some basic infrastructure has been developed. The business infrastructure may also be developed to some extent, but, I would argue, not enough.

Think of the things investors look at before they invest in a business. They look at the psychological characteristics of the CEO. Are they a leader? Do they have drive? Are they motivated? Excited? Do they work well with others? The answers to these questions determine whether or not the company will succeed. They look at the product. Is it something people want? Does it satisfy a need? If they put it on a shelf, will it move? They look at history. Has this person ran successful businesses in the past? Have products like this sold well in the past? They look at the research. Is there concrete, empirical evidence that the product will sell? They also look at the intent. Does the company have a solid plan moving forward? Does this plan take into account incomes and costs? When investors look into these things, in depth, they can gauge how much they and the economy will benefit.

See, when we think of artists, we have this notion that you just go out into the world and be yourself and somehow, unexplainably, end up being brilliant and make tons of money. I think this is nonsense. What is someone buying when they buy your art? If you can't answer that question, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't become an artist. Imagine if we treated businesses this way. "I'm going to be a businessman. I'm going to go out in the world, be myself, and make a business that's brilliant in some unexplainable way, and people will be inspired for some unexplainable reason, and I'll make tons of money." I wouldn't invest in this person, would you?

People don't buy art just because you're so awesome they can't stand not spending their money on you. But I think people tend to think this is how it works. So what we need to do, then, is think less about what art says about the artist, and more about what it says about the person who spends money on it. This means that instead of being subjective, we must be objective. I know... that sounds sacrilegious. But it's true. I make movies as well as music. But I invest more in my movies than my music. Why? Because the people who listen to music want to have a shared experience with their friends and their communities, which usually implies a live performance. And I can't perform my music live. So I know no matter how good the music is, it's never going to sell. The only way it would sell is if it were so popular that a shared experience would be implied regardless of whether or not it's live.

Movies, on the other hand, play a slightly different cultural role. If people wanted a shared experience of film and video, there would've never been such a thing as television, and people wouldn't sit alone in dark rooms at night trancing out in front of it. Yes, I know, there is also radio. But how do people listen to music on the radio? In their cars, with the windows rolled down, and as loud as possible! They obviously want to share their experience! But people who watch television, on the other hand, don't do it with the curtains self-consciously drawn. So I've made a business decision: I'm going to invest in film more than music.

And another thing: I'm not going to even think of distributing my films with a distributor without some kind of business sense about whether or not the stuff would sell. Otherwise, I'm wasting everybody's time.

This is how we artists need to think. We need to think of art as a business, objectively, with detailed numerical measurements of potential for making money. If we do this, we can grow ourselves and the economy. And, by the way, we won't in any way diminish our creativity or value as an artist. Creativity is not measured by how "true to ourselves" we are. It is measured by how inspired the work is. And how inspired the work is is measured by how inspired people are by looking at it. How inspired we are is merely a convenient way of gauging whether it will inspire others. And, by the way, if it inspires others, it'll sell. We need to think about this. If we don't, we're wasting everybody's time.

21 July 2012

Nonsense Hollywood Myths Many Don't Bother to Question

Just about everything out of Hollywood sucks, including the things a lot of people agree with. Here's a couple.

  1. You always want what you can't have. I've even heard some reasonably intelligent people say this. But this Hollywood "wisdom" is nonsense. Think about it. It implies that there's something about not having something which makes you want it. "I want every sign that says 'slow down' to be repainted as saying 'drive slow.'" "Well, you can't have it." "Ooh, now I REALLY want it." If you really wanted things just because you can't have them, that conversation would make sense. But it doesn't.

    It isn't that you can't have something that makes you want it. We want things because we like something about them. We don't want what we already have simply because it didn't turn out to be all it was cracked up to be. Things are like that. We fantasize about something, and imagine that it will solve all our problems; then when we have it, it doesn't, so we want something else. There's no causal relation between being unable to have something and wanting it. Which brings me to my next point:

  2. If you look deep in your heart, the thing you really wanted was what you had to begin with. No place is like home, eh? What if you live in an abusive family? Then do you want what you already have? I think not. In fact, as stated earlier, what you really want is probably what you don't have.

    A better way to state these things is, if you look deep in your heart, you'll discover the truth. This includes truth about your own wants, and whatever you need to make it happen, IF you want something to begin with. See, I think the reason these ideas are formulated this way is because of the concept of want. Hollywood wants to get you to want something. Anything. It's fundamentalist consumerism.

  3. There are some things in this world that just can't be explained by logic alone. Of course, if you actually use logic, you'll deconstruct these ideas and realize they're nonsense. As a matter of fact, certain kinds of advertising, like political advertising, have been shown to work best on people who don't go to college, where they teach you logic. Go figure.

    Why then do so many people believe this statement? Because it's a bastardization of the idea that some things can't be explained by deductive logic alone. Actually, NOTHING can be explained by deductive logic alone. To show this, let's look at a deductive argument. Every deductive logical argument is constructed similar to this:

    • Assumption: pigs can't fly.
    • Assumption: Jake is a pig.

    • Conclusion: Jake can't fly.

    What are the first two statements? Assumptions. NOT necessarily deductions. Assumptions can come from other deductive arguments, though they don't have to. (E.g. Jake has four legs, pink skin, short hair and a snout. Every animal with these things is a pig. Therefore, Jake is a pig.) But these other deductive arguments are also based on assumptions. And if these assumptions are based on deductions, those deductions are also based on further assumptions, and so on. So where, aside from deductive logic, do these assumptions come from?

    Inductive logic. Which is simply observation. I've observed that no pig has ever been able to fly in the history of life, therefore it's a reasonable assumption that pigs can't fly.

    So nothing can be explained by deductive logic alone. But, sorry to rain on your parade, everything can be explained through inductive and deductive logic together. Even magic and the occult. Even paranormal activity. If you observe it correctly, that by definition is inductive logic.

Art doesn't have to be a philosophical textbook. But bad art comes from unexamined ideas. And bad art has observable negative consequences, encouraging people to be deluded, chauvinistic, consumerist, racist, perhaps even violent. And there's no reason for it.

15 July 2012

Psychosis as Sexual Pleasure

Psychosis can actually be one of the most pleasurable experiences you can have. All it takes is a little courage and self-confidence. It's really tough to gain courage and self-confidence when your world is literally falling apart around you. But if you carefully approach the other world, and get to know it, become comfortable with it in a safe place, it's really not such a bad place.

The fear, for me anyway, was always losing control. Losing control of my mind and becoming something else. But I've experienced many, many bouts of psychosis, and except for once, I NEVER lost control. At least, not because of the psychosis. I became weird and freaked people out, because I was so paranoid... of the psychosis. I would do anything to try and be absolutely sure I was being "normal." But here's a secret: the more you try to be normal, the less normal you become.

Once I overcame the fear of losing control, the fear of losing my self, I recognized that this radically "other" world was a whole lot of fun. The funnest kind of fun. The demons and spirits trying to attack me suddenly became beautiful Goddesses. The fear and paranoia became wonder. The voices (few as they were, with me) became insight. Think of it this way: if you want a real fantasy world, you'll have to make a radical break with reality. And that can't be anything but scary. But it can also be rewarding.

Make no mistake: I DO have schizophrenia. I've been officially diagnosed, and hospitalized against my will. I know what these feelings are, viscerally. I'm on medications. But I insist: I have come to enjoy them. They are worth experiencing.

In fact, they are more worth experiencing than the medications. I took medications to rid myself of these feelings, and everything became infinitely worse, and I still haven't recovered. Instead of feeling paranoia, I was asleep constantly. I slept as much as 14 hours a day. When a filmmaking project of mine fell through, in the deepest depression, I finally had to make a decision. I decided: psychosis is infinitely better than medication. From now on, I would prefer psychosis to medication every time, and if people didn't like it, too bad for them.

Of course, I'm still on a low dose, but only because it's useful to me not to jump ship to the other world and become lost. I still have a stake in the "real" world. But if the beautiful Goddesses whisk me away for a while, even regularly, people will just have to get used to it. Because having a clear and alert mind, which isn't medicated to the point of sloth, is unquestionably better, even if I lose myself from time to time. I'm sorry, but the doctors have done so much more harm than good. I won't go so far as to say I should never have been medicated. But madness has been enriching and beautiful, while medication has been horrid.

07 May 2012

Debates on Brony Sex

Just got back from my trip to Ponyland in Equestria. A particularly American conceit is to assume that our actions here have no effect on other countries. I want to emphatically say that Equestria CARES about the American Brony scene. They pay attention, and it is wrong to assume they don't. And the debate over there is fascinating. I'll share with you a couple articles lifted from the Equestrian media about sexual objectification of ponies, particularly Fluttershy.


"Be Kind to Fluttershy: Don't Assume." By, Twilight Sparkle.

It is unfortunate that in today's culture a pony cannot escape sexualization. Of course, I'm no stranger to sexuality. In the 21st century, it's becoming increasingly obvious that none of us are. In fact, that's partially my point. Lets face the facts: ponies are becoming increasingly sexually liberated. Once modern medical science and the industrial revolution brought about the pony condom and the ability to cure some and detect most pony sexually transmitted diseases, Equestria responded my loosening the sexual mores of the past. It's unnecessary to elaborate. Suffice to say that Fluttershy's sexuality, like that of many ponies in Equestria, is probably multifaceted. And active.

Now one may argue that because a pony's sexuality is active, actively seeking attention from others, that he or she must necessarily invite sexual objectification to fulfill his or her desires. An incredulous Brony may say, "I have a right to respond to the sexual activity of ponies. If they cast sexual attention on others, am I not simply returning the favor?" Leaving aside the presumptuousness of assuming a pony wants to have sex with you, or any human for that matter, the difficulty in this statement lies in the distinction between open sexuality and forced projection of sexuality.

Sexuality should come with no expectations, no presumptions, no expectations. For Fluttershy to continue to be the confident woman pony she is, she must operate on a level plane of autonomy. Fluttershy must respond to the objective challenges she faces as they are, without laboring under other people's expectations and presumptions. She cannot live to please others: she must live to be herself. Although Fluttershy has a penchant for consideration of others, she consistently does not allow this consideration to degenerate into obsequious self-deprecation. It is one of her more notable talents. But unfortunately, the very virtue of consideration for others invites social pressures. It is unfair for us to add to them, especially in the emotionally potent arena of sexual activity.

It is okay for a human to be attracted to Fluttershy, or any other pony. Again, she is sexually active, and invites sexual attention. But, if you objectify her, and presume that she must fulfill sexual roles on demand, this violates her autonomy and increases unfair pressures, making it difficult to for her to fulfill her obligations as a citizen of Ponyville.

What's the alternative? Simply this: open Brony sexuality. Attraction without expectations. It may take some decolonization, but it should be achievable with practice. Don't make the mistake that I am anti-male, anti-Brony, or anti-pony sex. But as a society, we must lessen the pressures on Equestrian females. It is the only way for Equestrian civilization to grow and progress.


"Wake Up! Sex is Dialectic! A Response to Sparkle." By, Princess Luna

It is difficult for me, being in a position of authority, to write an opinion piece like this, for fear that it may come across as an edict. Let me begin by saying I share some sympathies with Twilight; I am well aware of the need for sexual liberation of woman ponies, as well as the need to fight off the Brony invasion any way we can. I find it undignified that humans from a different planet have the gall to steal away our young maidens for sexual intercourse. But this is all beside the point. The real reason I am writing this is to point out the blatant logical fallacies Sparkle uses to advance her case.

Sparkle's argument rests entirely on the distinction she draws between sexual objectification and sexual "openness." I find that no such distinction exists. Any sort of "level plane" one tries to imagine falls apart upon close inspection. Why? Because openness, to her, essentially means lack of initiative. If one pony does not advance him- or herself upon another, no sexual interaction can take place. "Advancing" is essentially a verb: it is "verbial," if you will. And what does a verb require? An object. A sexual object in this case.

Sex is dialectic. It requires give-and-take. One pony or person advances upon another, and then the other responds, and the first responds to the response, and so on. The kind of vision Sparkle advances, while well-studied, is naïve. It sees sex as a kind of static thing, which somehow miraculously arises from a state of non-relativity, which means non-motion. No action can take place in such a state.

While I do not respect the Bronies and their motives, I do at least understand their nature, which is not much different from our own. When a Brony expresses sexual desire for a pony, he is by necessity objectifying her, and it is not this which I object to. This is natural. And while a Brony should not be allowed to interfere with our Equestrian national self-determination, he should at least be given the same essential rights we respect in Equestria. One of these rights is freedom of speech. If a Brony wants to objectify Fluttershy based on her obsequiousness, which is a weakness of her character, it is not for us to decide whether he can express this. And the fact of this expression alone is not reprehensible. It is not as if by sexually objectifying Fluttershy a Brony is spreading some kind of malicious lie or destructive cultural meme. Again, objectification is natural and necessary. If Fluttershy does not like to be objectified in the way she is, she should work on her character. But she and her friends should not attack Bronies' freedom of speech. Rather, attack the cultural co-optation and colonialism they advance on us; this is the real issue between our species.

I believe Fluttershy is right that she has a right to sexual liberty. But this does not require freedom from objectification. When somepony makes the free choice to objectify her, she has the free choice to respond or not. If the first pony or person forces the choice, and violates her liberty, then we have a problem. But otherwise, she has no right to try to force the first person or pony's thoughts and beliefs. Even if they are a Brony.

03 April 2012

Artistic Complexity

If you're an artist trying to strive for complexity, there's a couple of directions you can take. You can have surface complexity, which is simply just a lot of stuff going on. The IDM genre is like this, and I think it's why that genre isn't very popular. It's only complex on the surface. An analogy to rock would be having a drum beat which breaks to do a fill every other measure. After a while it gets old.

Another type of surface complexity is when you do something unique which no one else had thought of before, which requires lots of equipment, or "creativity," or virtuosity. For example, coming up with a new synth hit that has a lot of nuance. Again, I classify this as surface complexity because it's not very interesting. It's just a gimmick. So you've come up with a new thing nobody has done before. Yeah, but is it interesting?

So instead of surface complexity, you could decide to do deep complexity. This is where you inspire complex and interesting thoughts in the art consumer. In music, this requires coming up with an emotional and resonant hook, or chord progression. Unfortunately, however, there are only a few possible chord progressions. And you have to also exclude the chord progressions which are (currently) ineffective at communicating any sort of message.

Deep complexity is more difficult to achieve than surface complexity. And, ironically, deep complexity also goes by another name: "simplicity." Miles Davis required extreme simplicity of his band members. But really, his music is incredibly complex, because it inspires complex emotions and makes a complex musical statement.

Deep complexity is really the last frontier for musicians. It's difficult to achieve, and artists can be satisfied that they will have the opportunity to refine the required skills for the rest of their lives and beyond.

02 April 2012

Madonna's New Album

I don't know what happened to Madonna. I was just listening to tracks off her new album MDNA (probably the coolest album name I've heard in a long time, by the way) and it strikes me that she just doesn't get it. She doesn't get Rave music. Or worse: she's just trying to capitalize off it without adding anything.

I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not bad music. I'd rather listen to it than a lot of music out there. But it's just not great. And what gets me is, Madonna used to be great. Her song "Material Girl" is one of my favorite songs of all time. "Vogue"—same thing: positive message, edgy, complex, confidence-building, interesting, entertaining, etc. And her album, Erotica, is not only brilliant music, but brilliant literature. It's great poetry that can stand up to just about anyone in the English literary canon. And I should know: I've studied the stuff seriously.

But MDNA is just not that great. Same thing with the past several of her albums. MDNA features a couple cameos from an artist I really respect: M.I.A. The cameos were stupid and vapid. So how come I still respect M.I.A. but not Madonna? Because M.I.A. makes sense to me. I understand her. She is one of the few pop artists out there who can legitimately say "I just want to put a cap in your ass and take your money." A lot of artists claim they come from the ghetto and are bad boys or bad girls. But M.I.A. came from an INDIAN ghetto. She was a war refugee. Her father was a Tamil Tiger. When M.I.A. does a stupid collaboration (and she does a lot of them) it's not because she's stupid. It's because she's a gangsta popping a cap in the ass of the music industry and taking their money. She's a musical warlord. She makes sense.

But I don't get Madonna. Maybe there's something I'm missing. I feel somewhere along the line she lost it somehow. And I wish she would just find a way to do the brilliant, amazing music that I know she can do. Whether it's because of greed, or if she's in a dark place right now, I don't know. But I don't understand. I wish she would just... come back.

03 October 2008

The Negative Magnolia

Searching, finding, classifying, using, reading, talking, reporting, sitting, standing, walking can all be done in entropy. This entropy has a dulling effect on the mind, like carbon dioxide has on the planet. Experience can be closed — it can exist inside a building with no windows. Keeping busy keeps you in the system; it keeps you indoors, breathing old air and reading yellow pages between musty book covers. I look for these things, like a bee looks for flowers.

The open door. It is defined by spacial constraints, but it is an anti-object. I walk outside: which brings the new. The sparkling air brings externalism — I feel fresh. I don't refer to internal things anymore. I don't refer to flowers within flowers. I can go inside an object, I can go through an anti-object. If you think about it, it's a beautiful thing — the door. It's a happy thing. If we had no doors, no cracks in the walls, we could have no objects. If we had no objects, we could have no doors. Really, looking through the anti-object is as beautiful as looking inside the object.

19 June 2008

A Galaxy of Stars

One night Jacob was lying in bed with his elven lover, Lilly. After laying still for some time, Lilly said, "Look at the ceiling with your head cocked like this — the dark in the corner forms a triangle with the other two points on the ceiling. It's a natural occurrence. It's beautiful — like a star."

Jacob responded, "You're so... alive."

"So 'alive?'"

"I almost said 'human,' but that would've been species-centric. How do you come up with things like that anyway?"

"Like the triangle?"

"Like it being like a star."

"It's the same as everything else. Every commodity you make is another star in your universe."

"What about bad commodities, or derivative commodities?"

"Okay, correction. Every new commodity is another star."