AUSTIN BLISTERZ

Hey volks.
I know I haven't posted in a while, but i just wanted to tell all about a gallery show i'm in in austin this weekend. if you are in the area (teeth, prison guard, etc) i'd love to see you! it is a rare opportunity for me to get outta the nashville basin, and i'm ready for texas action. i'll have several little drawings, and one HUGE psychedelic eye-popper. your old hero, ben roosevelt will be there too. here's a link to the gallery's website with all appropriate info! i hope some of you are ready for filthy biz.

http://www.bolmstudios.com/gallery/GALLERYCURRENT.htm

                            

Breakin' the silence.

ok. i'm sorry. illness, pressure surrounding grad school applications, all the token excuses. however. I now have a computer in my bedroom, so i'll have more of a presence. i also think i'll have to join up on blogspot since all the people have travelled there. FIRST. i found some really good footage of BJ and Frank from the outer banks. Kyle shot this about two hours after we drank some interesting tea with his fancy video camera:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DydjuvmhzB0

Next, please check out my new website i built to toss at grad school hosers to peddle my wares.

http://web.mac.com/cathcartiii/iWeb/Site/Welcome.html

Very soon, I'll spray some words around, but that's all for tonight!

Inappropriate IM's from the Shoney Bear

I think the perfect analogy for our discussions here was delivered to me, fully articulated, in the form of a night’s work last Sunday. I lent my Sabbath plus a few grimy fingers to a crew appointed by Shoney’s International. (Jordan….. Shoney’s!) Get ready to lose all the blood in your face: Shoney’s turns 40 years old this year. Yeah, I know. I’d be lucky to still be alive at 40 after having spawned so many cases of diarreah too.

Well, as broke-dick a company as Shoney’s is, they still know how to throw a festival, and just like anyone with cash and virility to burn, they took us all down to the Airport Marriott and had us build props out of PVC pipe! Charming! I know, decadence never flowed so smoothly… If only Bob Weir could have been on hand.

At $35 an hour, who am I to question materials or standards? We spent about 8 hours gargling black coffee and nacho cheese, eating room service and telling Neil Hamburger jokes over the PA (why did Julia Roberts rub feces into her vagina?…. Because she was horny!) Add to that, 2 hours of vacantly watching an ambiguously ethnic girl sow 70 feet of white, seamless fabric, and maybe 2 hours of possibly breaking a sweat. The hotel bartender, Miles, was nearly convinced that we needed a coffee pot filled with vodka on site. I was totally convinced… We were spread as thick and steamy as a breakfast bar, wet sponges of sausage and all. At 2:30 AM, we found ourselves clutching a 20 x 70 foot wing of plastic pipe wrapped in fabric and a serious desire for pharmaceuticals.

I think we can all agree our recent blog-chat has followed a nearly identical trajectory, and incidentally, left me with a hauntingly parallel need for some of Will’s old pills and a pre-lunch martini. I only wish it paid as well.  (Why did Michael Jackson dangle his infant son off of a balcony?… He was being punished for refusing to finish his plate of sperm!) I know. Not my material. And that’s exactly what coffee-table philosopher-blogging will get you, dangerous citations and a collapsed moral compass… Actually, I think I’d like to characterize it much as the Shasta Dragon has: I’m not swerving, I’m just making the most of my lane assignment.

the 5th Season

Well,

I got to stay in the house formerly owned by the krystal magnate this weekend.  hows that for shitting where you eat?

I'm back in the land of vayne temporarily too, thanks to the multidimensional generosity of tron, and a little help from listron as well.  It marks a big seasonal shift: i may go so far as to calling this years first day of ..... THE FIFTH SEASON!   I know. both difficult and quite easy to imagine.  here's to jerobaigm, scything it out in the lower hemisphere, clockwise though, in accordance with the almighty coriolis effect; closest thing to jesus i've yet seen.  here's to wilbur noting the maiden of the fifth, that girl whose eyes find a vanishing point far closer than ours... the fifth season is upon us and i hope you have your flame lit.

I guess nobody wants to get into the last two postings... I keep getting comments on the older one, so I guess I'll try to get into those.

Thanks to wilbur and Nick for getting into the sticky brown with me for longer than a soundbyte...  I'll try to honor them now.

Lifestyle...

This really gets down to the business of performative inscription.  At this point, we are so much a displacement of mediums rather than manifestations of anything pure.  Purity seems to leak out in discription when someone displaces a medium so thoroughly that any observer can no longer refer to anything else for comparison.  When Kyle publicly drank his own urine, he did this... quite well.   The displacement breaks the social agreement and makes "new meanings."

Well.  I guess a lifestyle would have to be a grouping of modalities or methods of expression that are meant to be read by others.  This presupposes that there are groups of people who are equipped to interpret your life in terms of a body of choices.  The fact is, in our late state of capitalism, this is pretty normal.  We allow observers to create our meanings for us via open analysis. In fact we relish it.  We begin to create our meaning, or at least our identity through performative actions that we understand will be reciprocated.  We encourage each other to manifest ourselves through aestheticized action.   In the case of art it's pretty obvious.  In the case of "being ourselves," well...

I've been dealing a lot with the notion of the performative lately.  In writings on experimental music, on contemporary discussions of drawing, and in social theory.  Foucault gets at it in his work on "limit experience" and "expression."  When you manifest identity through performatives, you are creating the very thing you are referencing, or as one theorist stated "[performatives] allow for language to "objectify" its own praxis."  For someone like Foucault, and Will, in his comment about becoming an individual again, or being set free through immersion in a recording medium, a limit structure can rip out the subject from it's action, and as it's identity collapses, that subject can actually manifest and identify itself on it's own terms once again.  Wittgenstein says a version of this when he talks about "rules," although it was in his own time's context.

The fact is, most people don't actually take this opportunity.  you are defined by choices in terms that they collectively agree upon when you actually accept these terms.  When you think the freedom of the marketspace is articulate enough to get by on, then yes.  Capitalism is hell bent on occupying all territory accessible through performative identity.  It is not an a priori, but a thunderclap, filling in every pocket ripped apart before it with heavy air, following right on the heels of the lightning.  I guess it doesn't really matter where your identity gets formed, and by who, and dependent on what.  I just feel like when every action we identify with is metonymic, then our performative actions should at least strive to collapse statistical identity.  Any recording medium basically deals in digital statistics anyways...  Our state of affairs seems to be growing wetter:  borders are melting, and most of our identities can be translated into other modalities with no loss of energy. The inscription of identity in the mediums afforded by branding, marketplace, (black market included) and displacement in accepted aesthetic mediums will blend into a neutral gray..  every individualism is accounted for and neutralized as long as the mechanisms for inscription and performative identity are interpreted as articulate and liquid.

I think all we can do is attempt to call the slick face of integrationist-postmodernity's bluff as much as possible.  Point out the stretch-marks of sexy hybridized networks and bend the circuits of the newest synthesized solutions.  The situationist games of detournement and recouperation have blended into one.  Total inscription is one hope.  I hope!  here's to inverted utopianism! anachronistic high modernism!  misplaced social geometries!  two eyes becoming one! and of course the deep structure of the vayne.  i miss you all!

Adenoid

Here's a dense collaborator... (thanks to Pat for sending me this work)

Representation is therefore constituted not as a definite type of relation; but as the field of an unstable oscillation whose vanishing point is, as we saw, either the literalization of the fiction through the breaking of every link between representative and represented, or the disappearance of the separate identity of both through their absorption as moments of a single identity.

Laclau & Mouffe

Sun Drop. That's what skeksis drink.

Fantastic! Elastic. 

My friends are passionate and intelligent.  My friends are good friends.

To talk about essence in terms of Wittgenstorm is a good start.  Like a word, an essence is a sign, used and defined discursively. It is an attempt to make concrete an opening.  I may have said something pithy to Jordan once about the only meaning being action.  That was a dangerous statement, but one I tend to stand by in spirit, (pun intended.)

Here's why: all action is perceived through displacement.  Action is "by" and "through."  That makes it seem like it is dependent on matter to exist. "The medium is the message" and all that 60's jive. Well, all flames need wick, or fuel, but action is also a transforming process.  Whatever matter was beforehand, it changes, so once again, the action is the altering motion, not the medium... The one certain thing is that action needs matter to be perceived.  God moves on the water, casey jones...

Hmm.  Meaning is always discursively given, so possibly essence is that point where analysis falters, where either language or its speaker lacks the surgical acuity to make it happen.  Here's where things like "differance" and "the sublime" come in.  I find it ponderous to keep depending on essence's being concrete for it to be valid.   Essence is always historically defined or spiritually defined.  Both depend on things other than themselves to be located.  Heisenberg's uncertainty principle.  If we can step back and understand what processes have tended to define essences (like "womanhood" or "democracy") we can start to understand why they are more concrete and rigid than they could be...

Essences are tools.  Like words they are vacuums we abstract into tools.  If they fit into a practical syntax, they gain commerce.  If they bridge a gap we need to conquer, they last and gain trust, if not substance. We're certainly more cozy when we can lean on essence like a trusty can of Pabst.  Drink from it, but it's only helpful if we swallow, and there's old action again.  Any action, like cycling, that seems to be irreducible, it's usually because nothing else can be like it.  I read on a Starbucks cup today that "baseball games are not like church, they are like baseball games."  Now even my analogies are commodified.

THIS BLOG IS UR BLOG

Black market babies.  I buy vayne when I can, but it is a privilege.  After my mortgage, gas, bills, food, etc, if there's enuff left, i'll go for it, but the danger inherent in black market action forces the cost up into a bourgeois commodity value system. Danger in the gulf, gas prices go up; danger in the weed-market, same thing.  I buy krystal because it's cheap and satisfying.  I buy organic milk because in a blind taste test it destroyed the competition.  I buy vayne because I love it.  I'm not worried about whether or not my paychecks go back into the system: that's why you get a paycheck, to allow you to survive in the system. What I am afraid of is having my entire identity interpreted by my marketplace identity. 

I had an argument with Will a few years ago, where he claimed that any artistic gesture was inevitably made due to market interests.  While I am essentially a neo-marxist and socialistic in my views on just about everything, I believe that capitalistic realities are not what you would call natural laws, even from a antagonistic perspective.  It is an oppressive system of translation.  Our actions and needs are translated into credit and debt situations, and purchasing becomes power while labor becomes value.  Cravings become satisfied, but it's rarely on your own terms... until you associate those satisfactions with yourself.   

Unless you are making more money from the black market than you are spending, I'd say you are "voting" for non-representation.  The fact that the US economy depends on and accounts for the international black market by printing surplus money they know will vanish into underground dealings proves that the black market is always more gray than black.

Life action becomes very difficult when a system such as capitalism becomes so invasive.  Like language, it usurps the medium with which you encounter reality, when even destructive or revolutionary gestures are still spoken in the language of money.  When you buy piercings, rap cd's, even guns, anything, no matter how subversive it seems, the money still gets spent, and the only change is that you feel more satisfied and less needy than before.

When you rearrange the pieces of the present system you don't create a new one.  You "liquidate" the old one.  You may have just proven that the current system is collapsing, but as Yves Klein sold the air in an art gallery for a blank check, he did not produce a new type of art, he "completed the destruction of exchange."  Both are better than nothing, but there is a great distinction between rearranging, sampling and cutting, even if it generates subversive perspective, and actually creating new identity.  There is my humorless statement puke for the day.

As far as "new" blogs go, if I don't get e-mails reminding me of updates with a link connected, I'll probably never see them.  I honestly want to read everything you guys write, and I want to respond.  I have never been happier than when we were all blogging and commenting on each other, but now it's totally fragmented. I know some of my pals have left their friendster blogs for blogspot, but I never go there.  I've been, but I spend so little time on the computer that if it's not connected to my e-mail, I don't ever have time to surf, or travel far.  Is blogspot that much better?  Is the font different there?  Are there more or different readers?  I don't want to broadcast my indulgences much farther than my close friends anyways, so i'll probably stick to this. I may just be lazy and not realizing it, but I don't want to have an enormous presence on the world wide web.  I get a little paranoid out there, especially when it comes to speaking my mind about politics and meaning. 

A lot of what I've been thinking about lately and a lot of what has fortified my responses in the past two blogs is discussed with severity and great insight in a book I just read by the French socialist economist Jacques Attali.  The book is entitled NOISE:The Political Economy of Music.  Very tight, very audacious.  It has had the effect few things I have read do.  It wasn't a mind blower like some, rather it was like reading a far more informed and articulate account of what you are already thinking.  Some other examples from my list would be Ernst Cassirer's Language and Myth, and a recent contribution from Pat: Laclau & Mouffe's Hegemony and Socialist Strategy.  All of these texts have become both armor and weaponry in my always confusing navigations through our culture and my subjugation in America.  Hardy Har! Look them up if you're bored and we'll get into some shit together! 

Krystal Meth

Seize opportunity, people. Make decisions that count.

I did not do that this weekend when i sheepishly turned down a chance at the State Fair to be contestant number 6 in a prelim Krystal Square-Off, a two minute mini-burger inhaling contest.  If I hadn't just eaten my share of a smoked turkey leg my zest would have been riper, but I looked within and couldn't see a burger-victor in there.

As I begin my application ditch-crawl for graduate school,  I am tasting the real mud and earth of a resume's richness... or should I call it a "CV?"  That resume will always be one line shorter due to my ignorant shyness at the Tennesee State Fair.

(Patrick Hayden's resume will also be forever short if he doesn't fucking call me.)

I do not yet know what MFA programs will have me, and yes, it's possible some miserably PC liberal institution would have seen my competitive relationship with regional fast-food to be a sign of impurity and a misplaced life-ethic.  They would be correct in letter but not spirit.

You see, we're living in 2006, and both sides of the political spectrum have ossified their collective response tactics into a "baby with the bathwater" dynamic. Do you know how long GW Bush waited to whip out the word "fascist" on Islam?  Do you know how fucking ignorantly elitist Wendell Berry is to think if we all had rakes and homegrown tomatoes we'd be a family of man again?  Well, if you think not eating fast food is conquering the machine, then you grew up in the 90's. 

I love Paul Newman's tasty philanthropy!  I love organic carrot juice.  But if you think making those decisions can be equated with pro-active politics, then you've already bought into the trad-GOP "I vote with my wallet" horsebroth. Buying Organic is still conspicuous consumption.  Leah and I did a blind taste test between Purity milk and Organic.  Organic won by leagues.  They didn't even taste like the same liquid.  It is a better product on many levels.  I will continue to buy organic milk, and I will continue to eat Krystal.

I DO believe the only meaning left in our situation is political.  But I don't believe that all professed political decisions are meaningful.  Pearl Jam dissing ticketmaster is not meaningful if they're still on Epic; it's a ploy to gain fake street-cred.  (no offense beej) When Andrew WK set up a fake "Mothers Against Noise" music website listing his name amongst the top ten "perpetrators" he was actually devaluing the political stance of the movement in order to increase the "use-value" of his now major-label subsidized product.  Shopping at Wild Oats is certainly not a very meaningful political action.  And neither is eating fast food.  They are BOTH ineffectual redirections of political dissatisfaction.  Consumption on both fronts is consumption, and petty decisions within typesets and modalities of consumption prove the extent to which commodity has usurped identity.  As the frog economist Jacques Attali wrote back in the stone-age 1980's: The consumer dedicates a significant percentage of his time to selecting products introduced almost haphazardly, the usage of which is very difficult to differentiate, except by rankings determined by mysterious processes in which the consumer is led to believe he participates through simulacra of voting.  "Krystal Lovers Like It Steamy."

Yes, I know.  I contribute to the stereotype of liberalism by furthering the notion of "plenty to criticise, little to solve." But knowing is half the battle.  Who wants a body massage?

Exhale!

ok.  sorry.

i abandoned my blog for a long time.  I have been peeling my toenails back looking for money out here.  right now it's art handling and architectural renderings. 

I have been walking around the airport with paintings and boxcutters, passing through security unmolested, and how does one get this priveledge you ask?

I watched two and a half hours of racist govt issue videos suggesting impulsive profiling techniques.  Apparently the only people who fly are white families on vacation, and any darkie has no good business being in the airport.  We were told that decoy "antagonists" are sent out into the airport to perform suspicious activities, and if we don't spot and report them, we will get citations and fines. 

Oh yeah, I got a background check too.  They'll let me take knives and powertools through the concourses, but not my tupperware filled with Horry County chicken bog.  Apparently smoked sausage has something else up it's intestinal casing sleeve besides fat. Something that could threaten air safety with impunity.

Well. I'm also playing music again with my fucked knuckle.  Black Belt Jordan broke me out, and now it's all about middle-eastern-coltrane electric defecation.  If none of you have ever seen the onstage romance that buds between Barry Walker JR. and Kyle McKinnon then take your hand outta the vaseline for a sec.

innie or outtie?

Nick, yes. You've not only stuck your pinky firmly into the stinky, but maybe a ring finger too.  The outer goes inner. Political scatology! Hot and steamy.  For anyone reading, you would do yourself a favor by reading Nick's comment on the last post.  He answered some rhetoricals that really get into why someone would write a blog to begin with.

Letting the inner and outer gain some unity...  Walking the talk.  Here's my fear: that the only thing that creates shared experiences or communities is indivisible with what makes an individual to begin with. This "thing" would be antagonism, opposition, isolationism.  Now, contrary to popular hippie belief, these are not the sole properties of W. or libertarians. In fact, I think the only successful hippie would have to pull up his boot straps and do more than say "dreadlocks or not, we're all the same."  To admit that we're all the same removes our ability to improve. When you don't allow gaps to appear between form and content, "statements just seem vain at last!" Yeah, Terrapin Station. To further your Wittgenstein comments, I think meaning is never found, but always given.  The lesson of poststructuralism brings us to an impasse with political language, not to mention social language(s). We don't huddle up around shared inner or particular beliefs, we huddle up around traditions and recast new beliefs in terms of political motivation.  Language's slippery slope precludes inner community, it forces politics. And as Martha Stewart once said, that's a good thing.  I like Robert Smithson's take on Abstract Expressionism: there's nothing abstract about it; it's biological realism.  Well, yes and no.  Autonomy and political discourse still abound in seemingly contentless aesthetics.  Even if our subject matter (or inner individualist content) seems divorced from social reality, the dialectic, through behavior, comes very close to social reality... Any action in this way becomes a radical criticism of itself, spiralling into the Marxist utpoia of perpetual revolution, but an anti-nihilistic one. Michael Fried gets into some stuff there. Style is content, and as you said, the outer people treat turds like gold, so they begin to gain Market Value! Yeah!  However, the market is taken for granted as reality.  Heiddeger commented on the use-value of things quite well, and we continued along to find ourselves in a one-to-one corresponding skin of simulacra. Now we have technology masquerading as freedom once again, and on and on... I still maintain the biggest lesson that drums ever taught me: the only truth is action!  Thank you Nick for getting into the stinky with me... you are the pro.