Posts Tagged ‘chaos’

Bargaining With The Situationists At Large In Today's Dollars

12 Nov


Guy Debord


Originally published on November 12, 1997

I haven't been keeping up with these rad dudes since the list became a book selling booth and then something's screwed up to where I'm on the list twice (get everything in duplicates) but can't respond or unsubscribe because of some unexplained cosmic glitch. However, I decided to peek and see you getting mutilated by some humanoid. I can't say if I agree or disagree because I don't have the whole story but the hostility is acidic. I know, however, that you can take it and I'm sure you're just laughing on this.

Landry, I've thought about your newsgroup problem. How does this sound? Pick out what you find pertinent, disregarding the rest. Spud really doesn't monitor the newsgroup. It's automated. You signed up beaucoup months ago when you had another address. In order to UNSUBSCRIBE, you have to UNSUBSCRIBE with that same address. You get duplicates sometimes because I forward you stuff and the newsgroup forwards you the same stuff because you are still on the list. Your company E-mail server still accepts mail from your old address. Unsubscribe twice using both your current E-mail address and your former, then SUBSCRIBE afresh should you still be interested in receiving the list. Other than that I'm clueless. Yes, I am laughing, saddened by this sorry state of affairs, but laughing nevertheless. It's my only refuge.

I want to note that I believe that a lot of the people on this list are graduate students or something and are disappointed at the thin intellectual conversation spewing from their lip-fingers. How sad. I would love to get paid to spew. They don't know what they possess. Looks like academia is nothing more than a booksellers guild where they reshape sentences of sentences written about thinkers of the past. Who's doing the original thinking?

Not this crew. That is certain. I think I am wiggling towards the next wave of logic, but I can't get a word in edgewise. It's funny because I never mention g-o-d, but these people truly run for cover whenever I quote anything remotely Hebrew, even though I've tried to point out over and over again the wholesale ransacking and theft of the literature by Marx and Debord. Dead silence or the petty voice you quoted below is all these "great thinkers" can manage. Strange, I didn't receive that unsigned text. Maybe Spud has indeed axed me from the group.

Was Marx the highest point intellectual thought could attain? I keep waiting for the next thing, the next evolution on the food chain of an attempt to organize the human condition but I see only rehash rehash rehash. Art is rehashing cubism with slightly different variations. Literature is dancing around the macabre Faulkneresque trip into the dark side of family life with modern therapy heavy judgment thrown in. Music is nothing but push button computer masturbation.

They claim a desire to elevate the man without quality but when I present a self-portrait of that very man without quality they attack me with strange wordy affairs from their own contrived bible, contrary to the schematic of universal understanding, and sink into the abyss, well-deserved victims of their own lack of quality.
Well, the "next" thing was Debord. Of this I am positive. At least, the Situationists group as chaos, which is what I saw happen under the iron thumb of Debordian authoritarianism. A very good starting block for this clearinghouse of competing ideologies swarming around like angry hornets with an endless supply of stingers. However I seek not to clarify but to modify Debord, present a plan of action (or action by inaction) for which we stand. But of course these yahoos are too busy worshipping at the altar of Debord to ever "say" anything much less something of substance. It's the same numbing stagnation of thought they claim the spectacle creates and holds the world as hostage, that they practice. Duh, what a waste of fine godfodder, oops, I finally used the word.

Your text above describes what Debord was howling against. He was aware of the rehash, and wanted to "revolutionize" everyday life, but I believe he failed rather miserably*, just as Jesus** did in his own revolutionary pose (although his effects are as well-documented as this modern messiah***), but GODSPEAK on the other hand IS very much alive conducting his press upon the stage of HISTORICAL TIME, that Hegelian phrase that seems to have only one meaning for all that I can uncover: the spark that leads to the Len Bracken generation's own personal civil war. Debord was an athiest; Bracken confesses the same.

Civil war is the great god they worship. Capitalism the devil. Their own historical time, their own dirty war in the name of the zeroworker theory interlaced with an abrupt dismissal of all things proprietary, a ridiculous idea of course betrayed by their own hypocrisies. I say, like Zachariah, the great and terrible day is coming in nuclear spades but woe to those who would wish for its arrival, especially to those by whose hands it is accelerated. Of course I am dismissed as a mere fool and a preposterous godlover. It seems to me they actualize, accentuate, and love the Great and Terrible Lord of Theosplatz more than I do, but that's just my opinion, uncouth, unhip as it is. The mark of the beast. The fall of mercantilism. No copyrights. No work. Hot BOG & BOR topics****, but all these wankers can do is strut about in their task to mark me as declassé. They claim a desire to elevate the man without quality but when I present a self-portrait of that very man without quality they attack me with strange wordy affairs from their own contrived bible, contrary to the schematic of universal understanding, and sink into the abyss, well-deserved victims of their own lack of quality.

Aaah, the wonders of the intellect . . .

A few notes:
* in his exclusionary practices
** in his inclusionary practices
*** in this case I see Debord as Barrabas, and still no messiah on the horizon.
**** BOG (Book of Genesis), BOR (Book of Revelation)


"I see pieces of men marching trying to take heaven by force . . ."
-Bob Dylan

Exchanging Glances, Presbyterian Jew Not Quite Sure Speed of Train

24 Apr


Stuffled & Stifled


Have been scanning through some of the CSS white pages. While the hype is that this makes anyone a publisher, it again forces to the top of the cup those who believe anybody can be a programmer. This stuff is dense and prickly like sandspurs in a south Georgia grass patch.

How's that desperately seeking law degree game plan edging into your routines? Do you still want a MB-sized mail archive sent to your inbox? Any movement toward KPT gifting? Have you taken a vow of silence?

Sue is now sick with head runneth overs about the time I'm finally feeling fit again. How about some billy ball tonight? Is there any reason you should not take another swing at the dynastic power of billy, yet again? Now back to the sleeve of Steve (and any who see themselves in this song)...

Perhaps you can help me work up a successful resume to storm ClarkNET with the wisdom to know the difference. I wouldn't ask just anybody for advice on this topic, but gee willikers, you might actually be able to enhance my chances with that infomercial-worthy MASThead (Most Awesome Steve Taylor) approach of yours...

Below is something I typed into a guestbook this morning:

Sweet knees and sauerkraut will cost you an arm and a leg
in the springtime next to the café down the street. You must
have a long friendlist and a good publicist to get away
with that many hits in the short time since the snowstorm
that didn't happen here happened somewhere else. I mean,
geez, Tim and Jennifer were gods in my book until they fell
silent. Clean up your act, or at least talk about the old
one, show a few pictures and get on with it...

but frisky is as frisky does. (In the field
where one puts where one is from, I wrote,
"from that part of me you can't quite finger...")

As you might surmize I am quite full of thyself
this morning, having finally fully recovered
from frocking weekend's binge boozer binge

and as usual Thursday brought that rush of
Gabmania I could only manage three or four days
a week once upon a time now down to two or three,

while you however seem an undiluted 24 seven.
You wear me out man. Go with it. You too will slow down,
but you're hardwired for burn speed and popular endurance

and will no doubt remain above the fray unless
some brain-nervous tick hits you like it stung
gentle giant Dave Clarke. It's a matter of record

that Ginsberg was a chatterbox, and now that I think of it,
he was the publicist who energized Kerouac into publication,
the front man for both Jack and Bill. So you know your role,

if you will only embrace it. What was that you were saying
about getting into the advertising racket a few wuthering
heights ago? And hey, every great writer, artist, pretender
needs an agent, a publicist, a whistle in the bucket.

Three weeks ago last Saturday over beers at the Lighthouse
you suggested I was pulling a Tim in my lackadaisial approach
to making myself known to the folks in charge of these things
like fame, fortune, and trophy women. Man, I say again,

self-trumpeting with a handshake and a dollar-sign
ain't my gig, even if I wanted it to be, but like Ginsberg's
talent for pulling the shat from a bull, it is yours.

But Ginsberg was able to cross the street, help his friends.
I'd like to think you are that capable as well, user friendly,
and graphically-interfaced. Okay, I'm muttering, but it's all

been said before. We can generate great things, it seems like
I move in great leaps when only you and I come together in unity
for even the shortest of times. Remember that first burst of web

sites concocted right there while you were FTPing for GSIS.
Well now, with our softball connection, confidence has soared,
production is over the top, and I've never felt better

(spirit if not body), yet it's no Boston to suggest
we still have yards to go for first down. Can you
blame me for reluctance to play both sides of ball,

the ball, although I've damn nearly died trying. In 1980
I wrote a line in a poem called Contrapuntus America:
"Two by two he sent them out, one to euphoria, one to disease..."

I've always needed a seconding voice. Wife—while supportive
financially and technically—has never shown the slightest
interest in the work itself. THAT's what's needed, and for that
I'm utterly fated the diseased one. YOU may well be the euphoric one.
Verily, verily, bride lived on S. Taylor Street when I met her,
and there's no slighting the gods when they are speaking...

Am busy putting some Globetrotter-generated Javascript into my pages which activates the scrolling text on the Netscape status bar. I'm getting quite a rush publishing in that scroll—by shooting some of my poetic gestures from the archived past. On the Tokyo Beach site, I used some Mishima quotes...

And lastly, here are some selected Dylan quotes I found on a website dedicated to his interviews. I was sparked by a Peter Burris e-mail logging some Nick Cave comments on Little Big Man Bob this very early morning:

Q: While on the road, how do you take care of your health and spirituality? What kinds of things do you do for yourself?

A: I try not to be a loafer. I don't work out. Maybe I'll ride a motorcycle or go horseback riding.

Q: Your son Jacob has a band called the Wallflowers. What do you think of his band?

A: His music is very humble. They have an impressible sound.

Q: Have you played any gigs together?

A: Just in the garage.

Q: What kind of music does he play?

A: I'm waiting for Neil Young to tell me.

I burst out in a huge elephant roar when I read this last line. No doubt a reference to NY's song Rust Never Sleeps, the 1980 song analyzing Johnny Rotten's impact on rock, the foundations of Elvis, and the premise that rock and roll will never die...

Q: Do current events, like the Oklahoma bombing, impact on your songwriting?

A: Chaos is everywhere: lawlessness, disorganization, misrule. I don't know if it impacts my songwriting like it use to. In the past few years, events have affected me and I've addressed them. But unless a song flows out naturally and doesn't have to be chaperoned, it just dissipates.

Q: Is America better or worse than, say, in the days of "The Times They are A-Changin'"?

A: I see pictures of the '50s, the '60s and the '70s and I see there was a difference. But I don't think the human mind can comprehend the past and the future. They are both just illusions that can manipulate you into thinking there's some kind of change. But after you've been around awhile, they both seem unnatural. It seems like we're going in a straight line, but then you start seeing things that you've seen before. Haven't you experienced that? It seems we're going around in circles.

Q: When you look ahead now, do you still see a Slow Train Coming?

A: When I look ahead now, it's picked up quite a bit of speed. In fact, it's going like a freight train now.

Q: Some people who study behavior say that each of us is only expressing one unique thing through his entire life that we wanted to express when we were 17; I think you have proved them wrong over your career. So regarding yourself, what was your continuous concern during your career?

A: That I stayed honest, that I tried to be true, and didn't lie to myself or nobody else.

Q: Do you believe in fate or in destiny?

A: Mmm - I do, sure.

Q: Do you think all was written in advance, or are we responsible for each choice we do, even if things seem planned?

A: I do believe that things are planned for everyone of us. But I also believe that we have the will to change it at one time or another, although I'm not so sure about changing the end result.

Q: Do you feel the same as when you were a child, or do you feel you have changed?

A: Well, you know it's like the French say: Everything changes but it stays the same.

Now you must know where all this leads. Sounds like Bob is a Presbyterian Jew who's not quite sure the speed of a train makes any difference to a flock of angry birds. It leads back to the beginning. Oh well, as we say in hitherland, that's my story and I'm sticking with it...



"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""