It's stupidly late. Time for blogging to the max!
Some people just stumbled in, a crew of people that included one person who used to live here, as well as one person I used to live with- Luke, the guy from J208 who I didn't know when me and my friends descended upon that space. It turns out he didn't graduate either, despite being a year ahead of us at the time of that cohabitation.
But before that I watched Beetlejuice and the Strangers with Candy movie, and had a big old discussion about the nature of human experience that started off just being about DMT.
Two days ago my table collapsed as I was standing on it, wheatpasting construction paper to the ceiling.
The other day I read an interview with Brian Chippendale conducted by Dan Nadel that was really inspiring. The best bit: "I think it's good to model yourself after plants: Head toward the light, drink lots of water, get dirty every day."
I need new patterns. I realized that this weird esoteric code of references to The Best Show On WFMU and Paper Rad and 30 Rock and rock criticism is, now that Alex has moved away, a dead language. It is like I was cryogenically preserved.
I am sad once again about the things I've forgotten- the actual language of Spanish, the meaningless abstractions of higher maths, physical activity. Somehow I've abandoned them, and in their dormant state, half-internalized, I've become more socially assured, more aware of the type of person that I actually am, but feeling like that's hollow and incomplete.
The Brian Chippendale interview gives a guide to new patterns, in the things I've been neglecting. This is why it is so inspiring. But that guy doesn't have a real job, and that's the other thing, that's what makes his art so pure- it's all based on creative work, none of the weird dilution of having a day job and writing at night, which seems to me like a thing to do as a way to grow. It's not as pure, but- you know, his stuff, all of it, works on these notions of purity and expressionist catharsis, it's an energy that burns through everything. In the new Comics Comics, there's a letter, that ran right after one I wrote, but it's a much better letter- It talks about how superhero comics aren't adolescent power fantasies, but infantile ones, of bright color and violence and confusing plotting- It is called something like "the mental equivalent of jumping around a fire." Brian Chippendale's Ninja comics are pretty much superhero comics, and while they're not in color, they have that same ritual energy that is present at a Lightning Bolt show. I'm kind of dealing in different tones, but, weirdly, I still made a movie where a girl expressed a desire to become a plant. That same character lived in a backdrop that I'm turning the ceiling of this room into, that I broke my table trying to accomplish.
There are grand patterns at work, bigger than our own behavior. And how the conversation about DMT with a roommate started was my saying that it seems too big a divergent model of reality to confront, especially because other people who I like have confronted it, and processed it on to me, and now I would be processing such a thing through them. There's something overwhelming about how things are already processed, as opposed to unmediated experience. The same feeling of being overwhelmed that I get from certain supermarkets. And how in the past when I've been overwhelmed, it's because of the presence of the past in the present, causing an inability to make a clean break- Having things in a place I need to move out of, even as I don't know where I'm going to live, to cite an example of something overwhelming, as opposed to just rolling with what happens.
And I didn't know where this was going when I listed off the things that I could blog about, but it turns out that that's it. But the patterns internalized give you something to go off on. Like a dress made of geometry stretches on into the infinite, even as geometry joins the long list of half-remembered maths.