05 February 2018

Oh yeah! I forgot to post these. My friend Li’l Jackson pixelated me for my birthday:

Said I to Jackson: “Baby, can you make me black and white as well? ‘Steamboat Willy’ style??”

Said Jackson: “I sure can!”

Five minutes later he sent me this:

I love it~! Thanks buddy <3~~

05 February 2018

this is but a mere BLIP on my ALL-ENCOMPASSING RADAR OF HORSESHIT

but is anyone else mildly creeped out when people talk about how they profess to not liking someone, sometimes intensely, and then they

well i feel ridiculous saying this, but here goes:

. . . and then they like / comment on this person’s instagram post, usually with something nice and / or supportive?? so as to perpetuate the ruse of false friendship??

what the hell is this, man

which is it??????

it’s worse than insincere: it’s limp-handed mealy-mouthed cowardice

i see this CONSTANTLY

sometimes even from people who are my friends ;-/

it almost makes me think that no one actually knows how they feel about someone or something, and they’ll say whatever they perceive to be the most dramatic or interesting thing in the heat of the moment, even though they don’t actually mean it, or mean anything at all, and cannot actually take a firm stance on even one god damn thing in their entire miserable life

terrifying! when you consider that these same people could be doing the same thing to you all along

it makes me sad! to have to be suspicious of everything anyone ever says to you. saying one thing and meaning the exact opposite! then just what in the hell are any of these words for anyway? if we don’t mean them?? why are you talking to me at all, you scum

what do they say when you’re not around??????

i don’t wanna know anyone like that

i know maybe four or five people who i trust to mean every single thing they ever say to me

i guess that’s a pretty good number in the grand scheme of things! in this ocean of manure called the world! which is filled to the brim with drowning empty-headed liars

you could make the argument, i guess, that it’s just the internet, and it’s all vapor anyway, and it doesn’t matter if people are disingenuous to each other on it

well, ok: but then let’s just pull the plug on the whole human experiment if that’s the case

what’s the point if communication as we know it is meaningless noise . . . is all burps and dead air, signifying nothing??? it’s not as if it makes you happy. and anyway this is all a symptom of a problem as big as the sun. you could tell me that the world is built on lies and that lies are necessary to keep it functioning. but then . . . the world is awful as it is?? they kill anyone who tells the truth to keep it that way

keeping up appearances! maintaining the status quo!! polishing your turds!!!

(you know you can actually just say nothing, right? isn’t that beautiful?? you don’t have to say anything at all. what a relief! and maybe people will still have some respect for you~)

05 February 2018

I’ve been coming home from work and making food and putting on old Dick Cavett interviews with Orson Welles and Marlon Brando, and on and on. Man, they’re incredible.

Anyway I found one with Marlon Brando and Connie Chung from 1989, and apparently it was Brando’s first TV interview in 16 years. Whoa.

At one point near the end of the interview he lays down THE REAL STUFF:

CHUNG: You said that in the last nine years you’ve been searching for what you really want to do.

BRANDO: Yeah.

CHUNG: Have you decided?

BRANDO: Have you?

CHUNG: Did you ever want to start a national theater or something like that?

BRANDO: There is no—we have no basis for culture in this country. There is no culture in this country.

CHUNG: Why do you say that?

BRANDO: Well there’s almost no culture any place in the world. Who are the present great artists, painters, thinkers, philosophers? Where are they? Do you realize that in Greece for a 150 years we had Sophocles, Plato—why go down the list.

CHUNG: Couldn’t you bring it to the American stage?

BRANDO: That’s an enormous presumption. I mean people throw the word “artist” around like a . . . a football. There are no artists. There are only people like you and me who make money.

yessssssssssssssssss