being boring

Identity - correction

2005-05-03T19:25:18Z

if i upset anyone that might hire me or has hired me by posting about a couple of the odd jobs i've worked, then i apologize. i was thinking about making the posts private, but i don't see what could be objectionable in them. nevertheless, i understand how this could lead to someone not hiring me. on the next batch of identity i've left off this website from the contact info. please rest assured that i will not put anything here that i wouldn't feel comfortable with my mother reading, although to be honest she has trouble checking her own email, let alone trolling for my journal. i'm starting a six week film shoot on the 9th, and i'm not gonna have a lot of time for anything else anyway. and good riddence to Identity. it's keeping me from posting stuff here.

two days

2005-04-17T23:40:34Z

if anyone is wondering where all the cute middle eastern boys are in nyc, they should take the N up to Astoria Blvd and walk up Astoria Blvd South until they get to the street in between 39st and 41st. then take a right. i arrived to the job early on saturday and had some time to explore the area. s'nice.

unless you are the bridal shop's neighbor. he saw our production equipment and started talking to us. nice neighborhood you live in i offered. used to be. it's all going to hell. too many immigrants. and then he whispered middle easterners and then said outloud again not like the irish.

so you are irish? i asked. me? no no no. i'm italian. from naples. he was a pleasant guy aside from his views on incoming nationals, and he went back in instead of hanging around the whole time making people uncomfortable. a nice guy. the first day had three locations with two company moves. my job was to stay in the van and move it around if the cops came. they never did. i didn't learn too much of anything on this job except how to take apart lights. everyone was very cool, tho, and no one was mean to me. after, we had a shoot in midtown and then another in chinatown. the only problem was that the talent ended up riding with us in the van, so three of us had to sit in the back on top of equipment cases. that's the kind of thing that freaks me out, but i swallowed my fear and tried not to look nervous without a seatbelt.

bob, the producer of the segments set a great example. on other shoots i've been on if someone rides in the back it's usually just the PAs. when the talent climbed in with us, bob was always in the back with me and the b cam operator. just from this one action i think it is probable that he is a person of quality.

we finished early, so after giving everyone Identity i went to the benefit for Sochny Dazzle's spleen. it was at this cool loft space off the montrose stop that they call Chez Bushwick when i arrived a girl hollered out of the window to me and threw me the key in a bankers bag. HUGE OPEN AREAS. HUGE WINDOWS. i knew a few of the people there, and i was still in work mode when i got there so i kept introducing myself around. so that i could keep smoking the whole time, i took over the keymasters duties, shouting Oi! at the people below when they started looking for the door. i had one vodka and got sick. i don't think it was all the vodka, i mean, i had one. i've just been putting a lot of stress on my body this week, and i'm still sick.

i started throwing up at chez bushwick and i didn't stop until two hours after they let me go from the second day of shooting. i ate a banana, i threw up all over S5st. i drank water and threw up on essex while people watched and shook their heads. i sat in the van today and sweated out my fever then i came home. they prolly won't hire me again - second day and i get sick. they said they would, but, arghhhh, i feel like such a fool. from now on when i'm sick i'm staying home.

a sample post - taxday

2005-04-15T22:03:41Z

i'm still sick, but yesterday i had a full day. at 10am i went up to harlem and finished applying for medicaid. i will have medical assistance in no less than 2 months!!!! then i got a haircut.

This is kind of what I looked like when I gave you the mini-comix
i got a haircut for a few reasons. usually i can get by looking how i want to look in absence of caring, but i would like to be more malleable. people have started treated me differently within a day. it is also a reminder every time i look in the mirror that i am not with Him. The old unshaven, long-haired me wanted to free up all his time so that he could be with Him and nest, but the new, shaved, eddie haskel me wants to fill up all his time with Work so he is not given the time to think about Him. my razor ran out of juice before i was finished, so i had to work last night with a neck beard. no one said anything about it, and mostly i was in dark bars. i kind of scare myself when i look in the mirror. i don't know who that person is.

i went to the nyu library at 6.40pm for the ACT-UP oral history presentation. jim hubbard works the camera while sarah schulmann interviews survivors from the days of direct actions and protests. one woman (who was in ACT-UP - i think everyone in the room but me was a member/former of ACT-UP) made a big row about how it was navel-gazing cos the next generation won't care, and i thought that was unfair cos i missed everything, but i would like to know more about what i've missed, especially if it is easily accessible. at one point during a tape we watched it seemed like this woman was going to talk about DAN, and she does and it's all there in like 2,000 hrs i think jim said. you'll be able to go to wherever it ends up being and for free (i hope) watch DAN strategies laid out, and anecdotes from actions; it never really drags, but i can't wait until the film comes out and they've put footage from actions and photos of some of these dead people everyone talks about. they need more money tho, they are stalled. i hope they find the money because they deserve it. i asked a question, but i got nervous when all these older people with serious credit for making social change stared back at me and i started shaking. after my question was over this older lady sitting in front of where i was perched turned and saidthat was a good question but i think that meant you are a little braindead, aren't you? ah, but your heart is in the right place.

had to leave before it was over to catch harry matthews's band at galapagos. some times i will post pictures like this, which while having no real value for you, are a cataloging device for me. someday i hope to fill this with stiff electronic butterflies sealed in paraffin. harry's band is called tarapith, which is curious because i introduced him to a girl named tara last year. trombone, bass, drums, and harry matthews on guitar. he was in a couple of other bands that night, too. AND harry matthews has parents. they were very friendly to me. harry's mom told me that when he was born, do you know what song was on the radio? and then she started singing i'm just wild about harry.... harry was not named after the song, tho. it was a coincidence. i think harry's parents and my parents listened to different radio stations.

kenny mellman was performing after, but i couldn't stay. i had to bring movie swag over to this new bar Duvet on w21st. everyone lying around inside with slippers. velvet rope place. everyone was very friendly, and you can watch boys and girls wash their hands in the same room thru a one-way mirror while you shit. finally met this josh wood person who has been filling up my inbox all these months. he's cute, shorter guy with facial hair, but his body is really well built. i left at midnight, but then i had to go back cos i forgot something. the L took 45 minutes to come whisk me back to brooklyn for the fifth time yesterday, and i was feeling a little haggard under the subway lights. took my dose of nyquil and off to bed. anxiety dreams where i am late to work.

identity

2005-04-15T07:59:49Z

in my endless desire to promote and cross-promote myself i made a mini-comix called Identity to give to people when they ask for my contact info, or just whenever i feel like it. it contains a concise and sanitized version of my recent past and a plea for people to either hire me or take me out for dinner. i gave harry matthews a copy and he called it a "pathetic and sad cry for help." this may be the nicest thing he's said to me since he shoved a zine i gave him back under my door with the word TRASH written across the top in black sharpie. i made 60 thinking i would get tired of it fast, but i've given out twenty today and everyone has been very nice; either they think my little novelty item is clever, or they are telling me it is clever and laughing at me when i walk away. i'm having fun with it, and the six bucks i spent to make them has been repaid by Larry Tee with a zine i almost bought for the same amount.

the problem is, in my fever i provided a link to this journal on the back cover. i consider myself lucky if someone reads the comix, but the thought that someone would follow the link from the comix to this journal is almost unthinkable. more unthinkable than the thought that i might score some freelance work from it, if only because it is something that i think people will keep, and it has my contact info neatly printed on the back and easy to find.

if you are one of the people i gave Identity to, and you are now reading this despite your busy and high-paced lifestyle, i feel like i should offer an explanation. this journal is primarily a way for me to keep in touch with people i know personally in different parts of the country/world, mostly louisiana people, so that i'm not repeating myself all the time. every once in a while i'll make a post saying what i did the day before, or i'll put up a backlog of pictures i've taken with my camera phone since i've got the service free for a year due to a billing error. it is the ultimate hope of this journal that i can stay present in the lives of the people i already know even though my time and resources are being taken up by people i am just meeting. it is the secondary hope of this journal that i will gather an army of cajuns here in new york so that we might form an ethnic gang and squeeze our way into a slot on the market using our three cajun superpowers.

1. Our inclination towards Excess & Leisure
2. Our open acceptance and hospitality towards all people provided they aren't rude
3. Our readiness to do something totally fucked up when someone is rude, or just to survive (while still upholding The Code)

we have only been able to make our escape on these roads you paved into our bayous within the past fifty years. no one really cared until they needed people to die in the world wars; people who spoke spanish and french. people to vote for them. i'm sorry. i get so homesick and i guess that's what this is about. even if it's only a way to let wendy know that i'm ok, cept she's moving here on the first. bushwick. a new neighborhood to suss! anyway, this is not really writing, this is just black and white stuff. i did this, i did that. i went to baltimore. i got a haircut.

so to people who got the comix, yes, i am really looking for work and ways to fill the gaps in my days. no, when i said "hustler" i did not mean that i am a sex worker, although absolutely no disrespect is meant to people who have done sex work. if you were to cook dinner for me, then that is you cooking dinner for me, and i would appreciate that so much. if you wanted me to do something, like, pretend to be your boyfriend while your aunt betty is over, i think i would totally do that, but i would prolly charge. or help you move, or proofread for the day, or man a ticket booth, or if you need a PA...i am trying to stay busy right now and every little bit helps. paying me $50 to itemize your petty cash receipts saves you a headache at a time when you have more important things to do, and it allows us to meet - it is possible that i could be of use to you in the future when you need help. nothing illegal - right? - we are on the same page here?

personally, i think the best way to use an online journal is to scroll down until you see your name and then read that bit first. after all, if you are reading a blog that has your name in it, then that is a blog worth reading, right? in lieu of something interesting.

\/\/

2005-04-08T17:21:26Z

Find me on MySpace and be my friend!

getting along

2005-04-05T11:14:12Z

my nose takes up more of my face in real life.

a housing stager goes in to your home and offers a consultation about how to set up your house to maximize sale potential during open houses and the period when you are trying to sell your home. kind of like what everyone does in those reality shows nowadays. organize clutter. change furniture. open up spaces. redecorate, etc.

we arrived in hicksville, long island at noon and made our way home ten hours later. it was a maze of a house with all these small rooms and hiding spaces. the place was awful before we went in, like, you walk in the front door and are greeted by the back of a television awful. we got rid of a lot of their furniture, and brought in a lot of new furniture from brklyn. i'm always a little nervous when i'm working for someone new and the location is outside the city. no money in my pocket, so what am i going to do if the labor isn't like i was told? walk back to brooklyn? luckily the mother/daughter team i worked for were AWESOME, as was my friend feta.

my right index finger is besieged by a flesh eating bacteria. yesterday it began to spread to my left thumb. i still have all my fingers, so if you've heard different, i thought i'd let you know that's not true. anyway, while we were on site my bandages came off and the nail is loose in its bed. uncomfortable. feta totally picked up my slack without complaining at all. the mother/daughters thought we were both straight. i outed feta.

check out these succulents! they are plastic!

the elderly couple who were selling their house were odd ducks. the wife cornered me into a lengthy discussion about the end of days which is not my least favorite topic by any means. she's a jehovah's witness and was impressed with my knowledge of the drawings in their books. i can not help myself! the husband thought feta was smoking "doobies" the whole time cos he was rolling cigarettes from drum. he was all slick, too. i smoked a doobie when i was 15, and i didn't like it. you do that, but don't do it near the house. don't let her see you. and you could tell he thought he was all hip and liberal cos this kid working on his house was smoking pot and he was cool with it, as tho we could have possibly gotten high and still retained our sanity working in that crazy place. like anyone can make a top notch tool and willow display while high.

while driving the uhaul back and forth on the BQE/LIE, one hand out of the window to hold the side mirror in place, i kept thinking about the david sedaris short story where he's working as a mover and hoping i get witty.

doctor appointment in three hours for the finger of death. it even smells like necrotic tissue! will this get me laid?

jsorel @ 2005-04-02T20:52:00

2005-04-03T02:05:21Z

sleeping late so i don't smoke so much

hurra torpedo

2005-04-02T19:48:35Z

yesterday i went to a runthru for a musical david's putting up at new york theatre workshop during june called songs from an unmade bed. one performer plus musicians. songs written by mark and each song a different composer. there are four songs that i can name off the top of my head that i would like to hear again, and you know those are just the ones that hook you in. goodgood. then david and i went to see glass menagerie last night with jessica lange and christian slater. not with them, they were acting in it. i dunno that movie stars should be allowed to act in plays, too hard to accept them as anything other than famous people playing a role. except some actors. they got a standing o, tho, the first one i've witnessed in nyc. was fun, tho, the night. no pictures.

baltimore, md

2005-03-23T21:15:53Z

david directed a play called Permanent Collection in his hometown of baltimore last wednesday, so i took the train down with some mutual friends for the opening.

i love taking the train, but i'm always a little sketched on taking a train somewhere with people i already know. feel hedged in, like i have to be who i am instead of somebody else, although lately i've always been me in case i meet someone who can throw some work my way. it ended up being a lovely adventure anyway, cos the company was so eclectic.

i met up with greg first at penn station. our phone conversation prior to meeting was a little stressful cos we "had" to plan the whole thing out. we agreed to meet under the big arrival sign at 1pm, but at 1.01pm i had a voice message from greg, freaking out that i wasn't there. he's older, and an actor, so i guess i forgive. TIME NAZIS! PLAN NAZIS! they are everywhere here. when i went to smoke a cigarette he freaked out that i would miss the train, even tho we had a full half hour before departure.

right before we boarded, larry shea and mike albo showed up. four for the road.
it takes less than 3 hrs to go from nyc to baltimore on the train and larry and i used our time to compete for the affections of this twinky boy who kept checking us out. i won, but my prize was nothing. i got his phone number surreptitiously and called him once i was safely back in the city to tell him he was cute, and left no return number. better that way, right?

when you arrive at the station in baltimore, this statue greets you, but when you look at it from the other side it changes from male to female. the intern who handled us told us that everyone in baltimore hates the statue, but larry was amazed. transgender art! shouted larry shea. REVOLUTION!

larry spent a lot of time recording our activities on his PDA camera. what is this world coming to? please contrast with my friend dain, in the city the same week from bloomington, IN.

to segue for a moment, dain and madeline came in on monday and played a show at cinders the night i was in baltimore. dain an i are working on a comic book submission, but we are not dating. for our big day out i took them down to prospect park, which was kinda cheating cos i took them along with me on an errand i had to complete in prospect heights.

i dunno. i think we had fun. i got to pee outside which is a guilty pleasure of mine, and madeline got to sled down a small hill. she was pretty upset about her relationship issues the whole time, and escaped into the world of japanther, so i didn't see a lot of them after i left for baltimore. japanther seems to have lit a fire under both mads and dain, tho, which is a good thing. i went to their apartment one night, and he has more room than me and pays $150 less. JEALOUSY, but they are so far away from the barrio that i pretend to love, i've decided to let all that go unless someone presents me with a good apartment opportunity elsewhere.

anyway, back to baltimore.
david's brother had a dinner for friends and family at this super shishi "club" place that prolly doesn't admit blacks or jews. i didn't ask about it so that i could still attend with a clear conciense. i'm not drinking for lent, and this night was the most tempted i've ever been. the custard was so good. lightly seared on top with fresh raspberries!

after the play, which was held in a truly magnificent theatre in baltimore's downtown we went to a couple of afterparties, and finally ended up at this gay bar called Grand Central. it had two levels, a side bar devoted to leather enthusiasts, AND A MANICURIST working in the front room. i've never been to a bar with a manicurist before. BALTIMORE! we met some local boys, and i'm gonna leave this part of the trip unnarrated, but this picture of mike sums up how everybody felt by this point.

the next day larry and greg had to get back to the city early, but mike, david and i visited friends of david's, dudley and joshua.
when i was in their place i forgot i was in baltimore. he used to write for the times, and has a former marriage, a daughter, and a few books under his belt. his accent is old school south, and he wears bow ties everywhere. SAVANNAH! baltimore is kinda savannah. there is a huge portrait of his boyfriend(?) joshua in the front room. captivating.

dudley's place is an odd mixture of americana folk art, homoerotic art, and memorabilia from his years working for the new york times. everywhere were these really hot worked over, blown up photos by joshua s_______, next to paintings by RCW and RA Miller. i had no idea anyone outside of georgia had heard of RA Miller, but dudley assured me that his popularity is very mainstream.

baltimore was fun, and bigger than i thought it would be, and i could see myself staying there for a couple of months if only for some of the boys and the easy living, but i was still glad to get back to the city. it felt like a week, but in a good way.

good bye, baltimore!

jsorel @ 2005-03-21T12:59:00

2005-03-21T18:12:48Z

carlo and i both worked for the black party yesterday, so he slept over and when i woke up he was watching troy. there are no gods in troy. what is the point of a story without gods. he woke me up to tell me that the greeks love their women. it's pointed out over and over. such a sausage party, troy.

best laid plans

2005-03-10T13:03:57Z

this is really the last picture. my hair is getting long again, and i don't know whether to see how far it can go, or to shave it all off. spring is supposedly here. i trust your epinions.

when i couldn't fall asleep wednesday morning i decided to document my day in agonizing detail. this lasted from midnight to about 1.30am. i still kept taking pictures, tho.

so...i've been writing comics with carlo. we have our first deadline on the 15th, so when he called at 12.30am with questions about the script, i decided to go up to his place in washington heights so we could work on it. and also cos i like hanging out with him. we have become involved, which is a title that means different things at different times.

as birds fly, williamsburg to washington heights is approx the distance from UL to the acadiana mall, but on the train it is like lfyt to baton rouge. but it's a well lit train so you can read and do work and stuff, so it's not as bad as an actual lfyt/br situation. when we hang out, tho, we usually spend the night at one place or the other. williamsburg's better cos there are a few 24hr places if you have munchies and money. this time, tho, the train took 2hrs. L to the A, and the A stopped running at 168st, so i had to walk all the rest of the way.

are you still with me????

because of the storm i was able to grab a couple of street signs that had come loose; a school crossing sign and a round MTA bus sign. when i gave them to carlo he said you sure you should have brought me these? maybe there are some children that needed these. i still have cramps in my hands from toting them 20 blocks in 50mph winds. asshole.

carlo's originally from peru and he rarely bores me. he's been in the city since he was 13 (now 26) and has a totally different life than i'm familiar with. i feel like i should tell my ex when i've officially met someone, but there is nothing official and things oscillate wildy. cuts down on the boredom, this lack of certainty.

sunrise over washington heights. i crashed with him for half an hour until i had to go to work. NO SLEEP.

on my way to the office in prospect heights i passed a sea bird competing with the pigeons for scraps of food. you can't really see it, but it's the only photo i took in prospect heights cos i had already given up on this post. at the office we are getting 2004 ready for the accountants, and i gave a sample pitch of a screenplay about liberace. i argued my point too much, and feel a little silly about it now. even tho it's a funny script, nothing will make up for the fact that it has a limited audience, it deals with a cultural figure who has little perceived relevance in today's world, and i lack the drive to want to spend the next two years of my life trying to get it made. the real problem was that carlo told me he hates the office even tho HE'S NEVER WATCHED AN EPISODE. he kept arguing his point and not listening to me, and this carried forth into everything i did yesterday. i felt like my pitch was being misunderstood and got a little aggressive, but really, nothing can counteract the three crosses against it mentioned above. i realize this now, of course, and keep cringing when i think about it.

left early to go pick up outstanding receipts from james, who's working at stephen pevner's right now. it was good to see pevner again, and it is always good to see james. he fascinates me to no end. signed up to work The Black Party on the 19th & 20th. it's a big 24 hr leather sex party, i think. i dunno. i've never been.

went on a few more errands - receipts, picking up cash, hustling for work and reminding people that i exist. then took the L back home to go to bed, but got off at bedford to get a slice. instead, i ran into jeremy and we got coffee at st. helena. by a strange coincidence, jeremy is best friends with carlo's exbf of 3 years. i've never met brian (the ex) and jeremy's never met carlo, and we are both curious about the person we don't know. carlo and his ex dated 3 YEARS! and their love crossed three continents. i throw a fit when my love has to cross the east river! THREE CONTINENTS!!! there are a lot of coincidences that jeremy and i traded back and forth yesterday, but i can't relate them in mixed company. just thinking about them runs shivers down my spine, tho. SYNCHRONICITY.

not only is nyc a small town, sometimes i feel like i've slept with everyone in it. everyone i've met.

after coffee jeremy and i went back to my place and we watched the simpsons. we're both sober now, so after it was over he left and i went to bed. woke up at 3am, and my day begins again in...20 minutes now.

ummm...march 9, 2005. a day.

vegan anticipation

2005-03-09T05:04:08Z

today i did three pushups!!!!!!
in a row!!!!!!!!!

soon i will not only be the guy who gets stuff off the top shelf;
i'll be the guy who lifts stuff and moves it somewhere else!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

goodnight, sweet world

jsorel @ 2005-03-02T20:57:00

2005-03-03T02:07:13Z

on the wall behind me is an old wooden map for a cruise company Around The World with AMERICAN PRESIDENT LINES. it's eurocentric. a bit jarring to see america split like that with new york as an isolated blip on the western side of the world, and then a far east begining with this huge landlocked wasteland ending in LA and hawaii. i'm suddenly from a lagoon surrounded by islands; an enclave on the extreme eastern side of the world.

nusenz

2005-03-02T08:09:47Z

i watched some tv today.

i watched a commecial for winsor pilates, and their spokeswoman has a glass eye, or something wrong, but dixie carter is one of her "patients". and mary marlee the deaf lady whatever.

DAISY FUENTES!

before that i watched an hour of BlindDate, the one with the popup thought bubbles and toaster effects. there's a bugerking commecial i've seen twice now, and it is very bad, although there is something authentic about the actor who sings macho man. maybe. i dunno. it's a bad commercial. i don't know that tv is worth it. dear god if i am a lech, then make me a charming lech. give me quality lech. a thought. i didn't type all of it.

my atomic fireball fell out of my mouth and onto my jeans. after i put it back in my mouth, i realized that my fingertips are coated in this resiny coating. like marijuana resin. only the k finger. k represent@! k kkkkkkkkkk kkkk kkkkkkkk kkk k. AH! nononononono. k finger, your innocent random play stumbles across something with meaning. bad k finger. bad bad. let's here it from the f finger. f! f! ffff! fffffff fff ffffff fff ff f f f f fffffffffffffffffffffffffffff!!!!!!!!!!!!

yay! f finger!

i want the next boy i meet to involve me in yoga. earnestly.

ROLL CALL
a
s
d
f
j
k
l
;

!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hey y'all

2005-03-01T08:23:10Z

what about the Pope?
what we gonna do? i feel so unprepared for the End of the World.

what if God really does hate fags?

jsorel @ 2005-02-16T11:29:00

2005-02-16T16:36:11Z

will i spend my whole life trying to fit square pegs in round holes?

jsorel @ 2005-01-26T22:01:00

2005-01-27T03:56:40Z

i need new music to download.

i'm irresponsibly happy right now. it's disgusting. i have nothing but good feelings for all human kind. i can only hope this elation will wear off. i moved on, and i met somebody, and i'm trying my hardest to not make too much of things or let him know how much i like him. it feels better to like someone more than they like you, right? better to let him have that illusion. i don't have any more problems/all of my worries are gone/beautiful angels appear at my side/and corporate sponsors will act as my guide/agents & analysts take me inside/the other side of this life. wouldn't it be great if it lead somewhere? wouldn't it? a team? a collaborator who wants to change the world? teach me spanish and a kinder rent split. washington heights is so far away from williamsburg. there's little doubt that i'm a fool, but i hope i'm not being taken advantage of. i think about it. alot. there's always the part of me that's stuck in 4th grade waiting outside the cafeteria for a phony trist concocted by my classmates why would anyone want to kiss you? they laugh inside my head i hate you she says when i ask her about the note slipped into my cubbyhole. i'd like to leave my baggage at the station and go on a trip somewhere i've never been before. childhood is long gone and i'm still a little kid running for student council. i made a church of his hairdo, and i made a shrine of his legs, and what if it won't be enough? if i get too happy then i get the convex on the way down. stay small, tristan. keep your wishes simple and your expectations minimal. don't get too happy - it could all be taken away.

jsorel @ 2005-01-25T17:01:00

2005-01-25T22:08:14Z

Coffee and cigarettes for a square eyed world: Cultural consumption as an opiate for the post modern
In the average week I smoke fourty cigarettes, drink one bottle of red wine, twelve coffees and four cups of tea. In that week I will spend twenty eight hours on the internet, three hours watching television, nine hours listening to the radio and I will see one movie in the cinema. Over the course of a year I will buy thirteen items of clothing, not including one and a half pairs of shoes (it’s an average, not a strange dress sense). In that year I will send 3,800 SMSs, purchase thirty five albums and spend 220 dollars on hair products. In this average year I will watch twenty live performances and perform in three. These are all events of cultural consumption, they hold no purpose in terms of my survival as a human being. This essay explores the motivations behind my personal consumption of cultural products.

Culture can be defined in many different ways. For this essay I will employ the popular definition of culture as follows; “The system of shared beliefs, values, customs, behaviours, and artifacts that the members of society use to cope with their world and with one another, and that are transmitted from generation to generation through learning”. Consumption is merely “the act or process of using something up” or “the process of being consumed, wasted or diminished”. Cultural consumption therefore for this essay is defined as the process of engaging in activities or making use of objects which exist as a result of a society’s shared beliefs, values and customs.

A book of quotes I had in my hand a few days gone titled A Guide for the Advanced Soul had in it- “existence is suffering” – Buddha. This occurred to me as an interesting thought and lead me onto a tangential line of thinking. Are the cultural products in the post modern west in some way a step towards existing less? Are the movies I see merely a two hour break from the things which are actually happening to me? Do we all have a glass of wine under the guise of socializing and a good taste when really we just want our reactions slowed down a little so that we don’t have to take life in so fast? Removing ourselves from our senses, our thought process, our constant and demanding interaction with our own bodies and the bodies of those around us by drugging our systems and crushing our awareness.

Television and the Internet as a recreational facility equally can be seen as tools to dull the masses. Not to imply at all that it is technology overtaking mankind which has caused this. Karl Marx is famously quoted to say “Religion is the opiate of the masses”, and while that may still stand true for certain parts of the world, the post-modern west has moved quick into a full scale worship of image based consumption and technological numbing.

At the end of a boring and unfulfilling day at work, the average man hardly wants to come home analyse his place in the universe, questioning his entity and the prospects of an afterlife. He just wants to watch television and eat his pre package food, have his mind unwind and then fall asleep. He waits for the weekend when it will be more culturally acceptable for him to get blind drunk, to find a state that feels a lot less like existing, feels a lot less like suffering. He doesn’t bother to question why he watches TV. He just wants something which entertain him, hook itself into his head and make him laugh without analysing, make him smile without real cause, make him feel like a part of something. The television will provide him the image of six young stylish friends living in an apartment with their oh-so-kooky lives. It will sell him the story of a happy-go-lucky family, or maybe a young couple falling in love. Possibly the man might like to make himself feel like a detective by watching a crime program with a purposefully predictable story line to make the viewer feel oh-so-intelligent and good with themselves. The TV will sell you anything you like, and the Internet does it on an even broader scale.

The internet will give you access specifically to what you want. Not only does it offer the wholesome mainstream variety that TV gives the populace, it also provides a thick web of filth for those with a taste for the sexually distorted or the dangerously curious. A quick search for your fetish and you’ve found instantly a range of other people in the world that suffer the same social stigma for their particular taste, whether it be an undeniable fetish for underarms, a bit of a hankering for an older woman or just the plain old desire to see people having sex with animals. Suddenly the man has come home, logged onto a computer and found other people who understand what his co workers would only shun him for. He’s no longer the loser in the office who always smells no matter how much deodorant he puts on, he’s an online entity, digitally created, perfectly constructed, and at home with other people who find a special affinity with their animals friends. He is escaping from the bothers of having overworked sweat glands, repetitive strain injury in his right wrist and being chronically ugly and overweight, none of this matters, his sexual psyche is being fulfilled, patted on the head and told “it’s okay to be completely fucked up, lots of people are”.

Meanwhile, there is a woman in a beautician’s chair. She is having her legs waxed. This is a process of ripping away follicles still imbedded in her skin on a large scale in order to impress men. She undergoes a massive amount of pain and hands over a large sum of money, for she is in competition with every other single woman in her sky scraper filled city. She is talking about the pair of shoes she bought for a mere four hundred dollars. They posses a designer label and will clearly signify to any woman who sees her that not only does she have taste, she has money and therefore power. She is an alpha female. She watches television in order to know what to talk about at the water cooler the next day. She smokes cigarettes so that when she’s in a nightclub without anyone to talk to she can still hold an air of absolute confidence and ferociousness – she’s not looking for someone to talk to, she’s just having a cigarette and nonchalantly gazing across the dance floor. This woman wears a business suit and has an expensive brief case. She is a very important person. It is made clear that she is important by the clothes and accessories she has bought. They say “I am business, I am success, I am real, I don’t even have to look at you to know that you’re coveting what I have”.

Focus is pressed hard into the material world. The physical realm is easier for us to manipulate than the emotional or intellectual. By adding value to the material world, by placing strong emphasis on the consumption of cultural products we are alleviating ourselves from having to place emphasis on the events of our day, the feelings we have inside, the concerns which might sometime arrive involving the meaning of life. The cultural act of coffee with friends is a prime chance to feed a cigarette addiction and make a lot of noise with your mouth, saying a variety of interesting words, without ever actually having to mean anything. After coffee you can follow up by seeing a movie. There’s a chance to fill your head with another two blank hours.

So, four friends stand beneath the posters at the cinema. How are they choosing their movie? They can see which actors they like on the billboard. They like watching famous actors because it’s a rare chance for them to admire someone without being seen as an inferior idiot – everyone admires the famous actors. Maybe they want to be happy tonight. They are choosing their mood. Are they feeling a little romantic, or a bit dramatic? Do they want to see something they can talk about? This movie is really famous, this movie is amazing, this one won an Oscar and this other movie here, this one, well apparently it’s just shits and giggles the whole time. Perhaps they’re at an “art house” cinema. First of all, if this is the case, they’ve worn completely different clothes. They’ve added scarves and more exotic shoes. They’ve probably put on their op shop clothes and they’re absolutely definitely going to go for coffee after the movie as well. They’re going to see something which will be “lifting” and “heartbreaking”. Maybe it’ll have two hours of a white screen and then a sudden red blur at the end, which will be followed by the credits and then a standing ovation from the audience.

Now, when I go to a movie, how do I choose? I like the trailer. I like the actor. I like the title or my friend wanted to see it and I didn’t really care. I was just glad to be out of the house. I heard it was good. I just like to see movies. I don’t think about it much. There’s not much else to do in Perth. A movie is better than a play more often than not, and no one wants to go bowling. Maybe I’m just shat off at everyone and I don’t care what I’m going to see. I’m just going to the cinema alone, to be alone, and to make sure no one calls me or talks to me, and to make sure I have something to do. Something which will take my mind off my day.

I’m standing two meters back from the cigarette counter and I am thinking “Why do I want cigarettes?”, and my head doesn’t reply in words. Reasoning has nothing to do with it. I just want them. I want to buy them, and I want to smoke them. I want to have them handy for when I’m in a bad mood, or I’m waiting for something. I’m pretending to look at the magazines but I’m waiting for my intuition to tell me whether I have decided to buy cigarettes or not. My head doesn’t really seem to have much to do with my body. My head is all about “No, don’t do that, you’ll get cancer”. My body is all about “Mmm… feels good”.

I go for coffee with friends because being in a café is better than being in a house. Someone else will clean up. I drink coffee when I go out because I like it, because everyone else does, because it’ll make me more talkative, because it goes well with cigarettes. If I’m getting my nicotine and my caffeine and my mouth is snapping open and shut about nothing in particular, I’m not feeling anything. I’m removed from the reality of how I feel about life because I have pushed myself hard into a moment which is all about nothing. Going for coffee with friends has a striking and pungent meaninglessness. We don’t need to catch up. Talking to each other has nothing to do with survival.

The girls come over on a Monday night and we drink red wine and watch American television programs and talk about the people in our love lives at the moment who we know at the end of the month will be forgotten an added to a list of things that never meant anything. But in four years, everything that happens now will mean nothing. That will become a pattern and it will continue. Everything will become meaningless, or less meaningful, until you die, and at that point, everything will lose all meaning altogether for you. I question whether there’s even a purpose in looking for meaning or motivation in the ways we are escaping, or even indeed, what we are escaping from. We as a culture have long been looking to set ourselves into a trance like state, have sought to find something which will entertain us, content us, help us to ignore the massive interpersonal barriers we suffer. The first person to say “can’t we all just get along, have a big group hug, talk about our feelings” is the first person to be ridiculed and shot. It doesn’t seem like everyone wants to put down their defenses and open up.

Part of our culture is to bind ourselves into the things we buy, the ways we choose to waste our time. We don’t seem to really care that we know it’s wrong, that it is a path less fulfilling than what we really could be, that we are finding endless ways to take our minds off reality and it’s hard boring stone walls. Making yourself happy with material objects really does work. If it didn’t, why would we still be doing it so many years on?

-Jeffrey Jay Fowler

jsorel @ 2005-01-22T14:55:00

2005-01-22T20:00:55Z

this is what i look like right now. haven't changed a thing. woke up late and check my email. this is it, notice the uneven eyes and the chapped lips and the impossible smile; tired from sleeping for twenty hours after being up for 50, and already busy with casual engagements without the added stress and benefits of work which is what i really need, and i can't pull myself away from the factory windows and the snow falling slow and steady.

i ruled out talking about boys and drugs in this journal, but i started out wanting to talk about a boy i never had the courage to talk to. then my i-tunes started spewing out a series of sentimental songs and i'm all over the place. someone to watch over me came on and triggered the last two times i heard the song, a date i went on thursday, first from the piano man at chez josephine, and then later that night from willie nelson when we went to see hurly burly at the acorn. then the snow: which thread do i want to pick up for a night in the blizzard? if i sleep at someone else's, then i'm sharing the 23rd with them, so i want to make a good choice.

if i just sit here at the computer staring at my update journal page i won't have to make a choice ever again.

the only picture ever promise of the dog

2005-01-19T04:58:55Z

the good news is that the pipes only leak when the heat comes on.

actually, the good news is that the pipes haven't burst like last year.
the good news is that it made me tidy my room for when the ladder crew comes in tomorrow, which has made this grasshopper realize that he's not prepared for a long winter.

i live in a fog.

jamaicans and their patties

2005-01-13T20:26:39Z

when i was very young people told me i was very smart, and this may be true.
this does not mean, however, that i am the smartest boy in the world. it is possible that i come into contact with people who are smarter than me on a daily basis, and yet it has not occurred to me until today that i have not had the advantage in every situation i've been in, and the truly smart people never correct my impression that i am the shit (they are, after all, smarter than me.)

so allow me to humble myself and ask a question of anyone who might see this post:

what the fuck is this?

it looked like a pimple when i popped it, but in this picture it looks like a mollusca. is it a sty? it is VD? do i have the HIVs? please let my eyes stay attractive and intense. they might be all i have once they take out my trachea.

evan leaves for prague tomorrow. he's worried b/c he's heard about the pickpockets of prague, and how they fill your train car up with sleeping gas to steal all your stuff. when i was in louisiana, people would talk this way about nyc, and here in nyc people talk this way about new orleans. i think the most important thing is to not be afraid wherever you are. you don't need to go to a big 4n city to get serial killed. remember all those girls in south louisiana who were raped and murdered safely in their hometowns?

paint the white house pink

2005-01-08T09:27:05Z

give me your hand, darling
do you feel my heart beating?
do you understand?

this is the loudest i've ever listened to headphones. it's scary!

i got paid 50 bucks to sit in this room for five hours watching C-SPAN and wait for verizon to not come! crazy!
i didn't want to take their money, but i had to cos i ran out of louisiana cigarettes! i'd like to say that i gave a lot of them away, but i didn't! and then they didn't even use them room! i felt like the hitman's female partner in wong kar-wai's killer angels!

these weeks have been so busy, i barely have time to spend 6 hours a day on livejournal putting comments on people's journals so they don't drop me. this apartment goes for $1,500 a month. it's on the upper east side. it comes furnished with a lavalamp, and a baseball bat to beat people up with!!! i felt bad that verizon didn't come, but i was very happy that i got to read and watch C-SPAN again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this weekend i'm working near prospect park. these are pictures of the neighborhood.

this is from the wendy's at union square. i want it so bad!!! this picture does not do it justice.

i can't tell if it's sposed to be ironic or not. AMERICA, we love!!! land of Hamburger and Coca-Cola Juice!!!

howie and i went to see madhappy tonight. during the course of the evening howie first offered to include me in a threesome with his new beau and then promptly fell madly in love with adam astor. he's so fickle.

weenhole

2005-01-03T09:19:08Z

i looked back.
when i looked back, i took this picture to remind myself later that i had looked back.

i had forgotten, until just now.

At midnight on nye i was stepping off the J at delancey. on my way a man ran past me jangling keys. up the street were two cops and a woman screaming There he is! He's running away! He's right there! I was late (just stepping off the J at midnight) so i didn't want to get involved, but this little amateur bloodhound gang of passing kids took up the chase and ran blindly down the street looking for him. I'm at the intersection, so before they arrive I see him duck into what i thought was a doorway to a school.

So the Teenage Vigilantes are on the scene, running past me, yelling to each other Where is He? Which way did He go? What does He look like? i couldn't help myself. Still walking i shout He ran into the doorway. To your right. and the kids are still to busy yelling at each other to hear me so louder for god's sake, he's in that building then coming upon the doorway i discover that it is not a doorway but an alcove, so at this point i'm practically taking the crimeteam in hand to the man Look! He's right there, standing in the corner. Hello??

Continue on my way up to Houston, and the man is walking up the street as well, his jacket tugged on by what has become a giddy group of urban children. The Wronged Woman has finally made her appearance in this street drama and is yelling at the man to give her back her ticket and her keys. I'm still making my way, but i look back and start to worry that he's going to hit her and i'm going to have to do something like make myself big or break a car window, when the cops appear from up the road. I accelerate to avoid being picked up in the scandal and i notice that the urban children dissipate as well.

From behind I hear the man sigh and begin to speak with a there's no way i can explain what this is actually about to you, but i am the wronged party, and i know you won't believe me weariness. the urban children reassembled behind me on the next block, and together we crossed Houston into the East Village; into a new year.

i'm worried that since i spent last nye asleep, and then went on to sleep thru the year, being alone on a subway for midnight this year is a bad omen. whew. knock on wood. glad i got that off my chest.

i tend to believe that a good party is one where something happens. and not just something that involves a few people - an event that involves the individual on a group level. Communion.

Case in point: went to a game night a few months ago. A friend was housesitting for a friend who lives in an apartment that he pays $15,000 a month to live in. 15k a month!!! Now that i'm thinking about it, i still haven't been to an apartment like that, that's like that, in manhattan. three floors. private rooftop. west village. but 15k? if i ever get to a point where i can afford to do that, i still can't imagine myself doing that. like laundry. i will always do my own laundry, except things that need to be ironed. I WILL MAKE TIME TO DO MY OWN LAUNDRY. I feel like that's an important thing for a person to do. But if i were a rich man i'd have three staircases, so what do i know?

At the begining of game night the plumbing backs up from the upstairs bathroom and the ceiling begins to rain liquid sewage. Like crew, everyone begins to take action and proscribed duties: saving the food & liquor: filling buckets: getting towels. Not everyone, of course. A few people just stood around and talked about what was going on as it was happening, but that's what people do at a party, right? The point is that there was a definite difference between those people who had been there to recieve the host of shitrain, and those latecomers whose names were hard to remember because they weren't the person responsible for gathering up all the papertowels when it stopped. Later that night i recieved the Host in a more literal way, and thus had more communion than anyone. That was a good party.

So, when i say that nothing was going to happen, i mean it in this sense. That there would be no moment of communion. There would be nothing beyond ourselves.

Oh. I didn't say it yet. When i arrived at both parties i knew that nothing was going to happen.

This bathroom would be the closest thing to communion at the second party. There was only one for all genders and the line was always long. And for no reason! People were in line to fool around or do drugs when there was this huge lounge area in the back with corners. And it's not like anyone there was going to hassle you. My friends at the first party split to go to private parties, and my friends at the second party seemed like they were waiting for a communion moment, but were not expecting it to come. I left when one guest started masturbating while giving another head and it provoked no inspiration in me.

I wouldn't be able to experience a communion moment anyway, as insular as i've been lately. It's been so hard to get my thoughts off myself when other people are talking. I haven't been listening.

When i left the second party, i looked back to see if something amazing was happening, but of course i was so far up the street i wouldn't have been able to tell. When i realized i wouldn't have been able to tell if something amazing was happening if i was still at the party, i took the first picture.

jsorel @ 2005-01-01T22:47:00

2005-01-02T03:53:21Z

i'm so drunk right now.

i went to a party on fulton st and drank a lot of scotch. i finished off a bottle of glenlevitt all by myself.
it was all i could do to not trhwo up on the L. instead i saved it in my mouth and threw up all over N7th until the BQE. i feel better now, but not really. everything is still swimming, and i;m not out of the clear.

iu made out with a 60+ yo man tonight. it was ok. i just wanted to kiss him goodnight, and he kept me there.i told him that he was frisjy for an old man, and he laughed. i also told tangle about my early nmyc crush on him, nad he said he was flattered.

i talk too much.

11pm, and i'm cooking black eyed peas for superstitiousisuis reasponms/.

fuck livejournal.
the nice thing about being drunk is that i can not imagine being with anyone right now. maybe someone i already know, but really i wish i could just throw all this shit up and go to beed.

jsorel @ 2005-01-01T16:57:00

2005-01-01T22:07:49Z

these are pictures from a video shoot i worked on. it seems like a shame to keep taking pictures and not do anything with them, but i just don't have the attention available to do something cool.