The Monster is Zero.

I'm beginning the second part of my life: the output stage.

Besides listening to music I dont take in a lot of art at the present moment. I'm more focussed on my own voice--that which is at once intimate and projected, created and cast-out...

...returning as an echo from across the universe (void).

But I was sick and didn't have the energy to write, so instead I bought a magazine and a couple of DVDs. Just the act of buying something other than food or iTunes was strange. I felt slightly ridiculous and completed the excursion by purchasing grape seed hand cream and blue eye shadow at Sephora in Times Square.

The magazine was Mass Appeal. I hadn't bought an issue in awhile and was immediately saddened to see that the first two pages were Nissan ads followed by a 2 pager for Virgin Mobile--complete with a cutout abraham lincoln mask in an obvious bite of Shephard Fairey's awesome pullout OBEY stencils that I used to revel over back when gourmet magazines such as Mass Appeal still carried clout with heads like me.


On an eye candy level it's all very yummy, dont get me wrong. Between the covers are thick pages lushly covered with over-designed fashion spreads of supposed next level DIY ethos...which some of it no doubt still is, but the ferreal buoys of smart sparkle are for the most part overwhelmed and subsumed by the larger, consumer wave of $200 assymmetrical haircuts, trendy tattoos, post-nirvana, "anti-corporate" chic in which major labels disquise themselves as obscure boutique label offshoots...the food, toys, clothing, music and art end-products of which are scarfed up by supposedly educated, backpack toting, "anti-mall" hip-hop kids who can't dance super great but know how to use computers and love anime, excuse me, manga.

Scenes sell out, I tell myself with a sigh and then a yawn...that's what they do...

I think it's when all the so-called punk rockers started fashion labels that the real trouble started.

fuck clothes.

make networks instead.

No comments: