This jibes with lots of stuff I’ve been reading/thinking/doing of late. Glad to see this kind of sanity coming from crazy-startup-world!
- hideous purses with some designer’s initials printed all over them in a pattern*
- college students wearing bulky grey sweatshirts with their college’s name on them**
- anyone, save the actual player in question, wearing a sporting uniform top with the name of a specific player on the back***
* OK, it’s acceptable to admire a designer. I admire designers (usually dead). But why would I want their initials all over an ugly purse instead of having something really attractive that they designed? Are the initials meant to be attractive? I can almost see it with, say a Louis Vuitton trunk, especially circa WWI… in that kind of faux-livery, Edwardian novelty kind of way, but really, Michael Kors? He’s just some jerky guy who says misogynist stuff about women on reality TV and, I gather (I know nothing about fashion brands) makes run-of-the-mill clothes for department stores (of which I’m sure there are super-inflated high-priced versions too). Why would you want his initials on your ugly purse? It seems like falling for a bad ploy.
** In my imagination, here’s what happens: said college student comes stocked with full supply of clothes. But doing laundry at college is difficult. One day, with nothing left to wear, they go to the college bookstore and buy the only garment available, a college sweatshirt. It’s ugly, but they can pay for it with their parents’ account thing they use to pay for text books. Then, whenever laundry difficulties crop up, they wear this garment. Please don’t tell me they actually like the garment.
*** Don’t you feel weird with someone else’s name on your back? Especially someone you don’t in any way resemble? I don’t know, I just always find this awkward.
Sorry, that wasn’t meant to be snarky. People in glass houses (who wear stupid stuff all the time) shouldn’t throw stones.
Saw Mr. Cave last night with the nouveau, sadly blixa-less version of the bad seeds. Of course, it was pretty spectacular nonetheless. I know it’s been said before, but somehow the music (art, film) that hits you like a freight train of meaningfulness as a teenager stays with you — it’s actually totally amazing how it can, unexpectedly, in one’s jaded, sometimes passion-challenged older-ish age, snap you back to the piquancy, poignancy and fervency of that time. (Not that, honestly, I feel the least bit grown up.)
I was thinking, as Mr Cave churned through an exquisite version of From Her to Eternity (somehow, the way that his music prior to about 1991 has those dissonances between the vocal and instrumental parts really still turns me on so much), that I was also lucky enough to see Crime and the City Solution a few months ago — quite an unexpected surprise. And that they they played Six Bells Chime (in a violently, if unintentionally dissonant way, that I quite enjoyed) and that, in effect, somehow, 25 years after its release, I was able to have a weird, vicarious, not-in-Berlin, personal reliving of the musical parts of Der Himmer Über Berlin (Wings of Desire) and how really very pleasing that is.
I wrote an extensive, rambling, actually-in-Berlin personal, probably-relevant-to-no-one-else epic about that film in my zine (which was made of paper!) sometime in the late 80s. And I think I’d do it again. Maybe I just did.
So, thank you, Mssrs Wenders, Cave, Bargeld, Harvey, Bonney etc. for making these things that have made me happy for over half my life. That is all.
Trying to use Tumblr the way it’s intended (?) to see if I eventually get it.
And it’s not the animated gifs. Though it will probably be at least 5 years, when everyone’s over it, until I figure out what that’s all about.
I think why I haven’t been able to really get into tumblring is the whole thing about how you have to put stuff in your own blog-thingie to comment on it. I totally get that that creates a different kind of civility and un-troll-i-ness than other models where comments are attached to content, but, I think it feels weird, when you’re a curator/artist/control-freak to put content in your blog that you didn’t create or maybe like/value more or less than other content (just to comment on it).
I guess it’s like a shadow of the there’s-enough-room-for-everything-now overall shift in computing, going from users organizing things (on their hard drives, for example) to having enough processing power and good enough search tools to be able to store everything in a random jumble and then just hit the search button to recall specific bits. Apple’s definitely been shoving users in this direction with all their might, especially of late with the iCloud opacity. But I grew up making my own hierarchies, putting my own shortcuts in the Apple Menu, and color coding my folders. I always revert to wanting to do things my own way, rather than having abiding faith in the “documents” folder (sorry Unix).
It probably makes so much more sense to the genre-oblivious, flat-cultural-hierarchy, opaque-mobile-operating-systems youth of today. I love the idea of easy multi-media blogging, but I’m stubbornly uneasy about mixing the “levels” or hierarchy of content: original; curated (because one likes it); and reblogged fleetingly just to make a comment.
Or maybe I’m still missing something about the essential Tumblr paradigm. I keep getting that feeling.
I’ve lately been contemplating re-taking up working on my screenplay. I think working on it while on a freighter journey would be preferable (except for carrying the books unavailable digitally and needed for reference) but perhaps it would be possible to work on it elsewhere. Like in Maine, or on the porch.