The Audacity of Humanity!

It is never a good thing to think anthropologically, which is something I constantly do, which means I am stuck living in the future, but the way, way distant future. I'm constantly considering who will discover my civilization when it crumbles.

As Chuck Palahniuk once said "Everything you ever create will be thrown away. Everything you’re proud of will end up as trash."

Because of this, I'm always careful of everything I throw away. If I don't want some garbologist to find my dirtiest of dirtys in the year 3021, I burn it.

On the other hand (and this is the point) I also find some things in humanity I want to destroy for the benefit of future generations. Sometimes I go into thrift stores and "drop" fragile pieces of absolute shit and I don't feel guilty. Why should I? I have purged the Earth of another fuckin' Anna Nicole Smith snowglobe or High School Musical porcelain dildo.

And I realize with certainty that I have no authority to decide what is worthwhile and what is not. I'm also glad that this same ideal hasn't been applied to things of relevance today or even my own works. That would be quite depressing and disgusting. Rest assured, I hate censorship with a passion.

But perhaps this is different. Separate somehow. Anyway, no one else is fuckin' doin' it!

It is an understatement to say that Americans need a lot less shit. From Furby cake decorations to Yu-Gi-Oh! adult diapers to Hannah Montana diet supplements, it's all shit that doesn't even deserve to dent a landfill.

This is the Audacity of Humanity.

Last night on Hulu, I watched "Giant Spider Invasion" a 1975 b-movie about trans-dimensional blackhole-traveling tarantulas. Confused as to why their meteor landed in Wisconsin, the spiders decide to eat everyone. The film was so worthless, no one even bothered to save a decent copy and the Hulu version is full of bad cuts, scratches and distorted sound, like a grindhouse film sans sex and violence. It goes without saying, it was fucking terrible. Here are the most intelligent quotes from the whole film:

"Sometimes the only time i know you're still alive is when I hear you flush the toilet."

"You're so dumb you wouldn't know rabbit turds from rice crispies."

I kinda of wanted to pick apart the plot a lot, like how the spider was emitting so much radiation that even if it was squashed, everyone would die of cancer. But what's the point?

I put "Invasion" on in the background and lazily got some work done and occasionally glanced up to see a bunch of Disco-era nobodies scream and violently get ripped apart at the hands of their radioactive arachnid tormentors.

The best part was the 50ft. spider which roamed the countryside and ate helpless cattle and douchebags that tried to shoot it. The tarantula was made using hunks of polyester and sherbet-tinted headlight eyes. And apparently, giving it too much radiation makes it explode orange, green and purple like a Willy Wonka wetdream. And someone actually took the time to design and construct this thing?? Such audacity!

But there's so much of this crap, it's unbelievable. Do you really think Transformers 2 is going to last another ten years? Yeah, that's what I thought about Pokémon: The Movie. (Note: generally, nothing called "the movie" is ever going to worth shit)

Now that poor, worthless spider is going to lie buried next to your collection of pogs and my mother's favorite John Cusack DVD's for centuries until Xeta anthropologists excavate it and ponder how stupid we were.

Announcing: FiLTHfiLLER.COM!

I am proud to announce the launch of my new website, filthfiller.com

It's going to act as a little portfolio for my work, much better than flickr or a blog can provide. Right now, it sucks, but it will grow and look nice and stuff. It has the potential to do a lot more than just show myself off, but I have little to no web skill, so I guess this is enough for now.

The name means nothing. It's just like Nine Inch Nails or Häagen-Dazs, a catchy, pithy title.

Anyway, bookmark that bastard!

Michael Jackson is NOT Dead

I've been hearing a lot of rumors that Michael Jackson died. I know, according to some negligible sources, that Michael was found in a coma and later, died. This is as much a hoax as Jeff Goldblum dying (but not as funny).

Let me give you proof.

Elvis: King of Rock & Roll.

Jackson: King of Pop

Since Elvis went to join the aliens and he was a king, obviously Michael went, too. I'm not even talking about the fact Mikey looked like an alien before his death. This is all about "king-dom". When Sting dies, he will be in outer space, living immortal among the stars. After all, he was the King of Pain.

So please, deny these rumors of Jackson's "death". He is very much alive and always will be.

song idea

OK so here's my idea:

A record that's got 60-300 tracks, each one 1-3 seconds long.
The idea is, they play together so well, you can put the album on shuffle and listen to a new song almost every single time.
I'm not a musician and we could figure out the technical stuff some other time, but it's totally possible.
Any music friends with me?
Fuck, I'm wasted.

A Thought for the Day

If I were a logging company, I would threaten to cut down large, ancient trees in the hopes of forcing environmentalists to live in them for a couple of months.
I'd have no actual intention of hurting big trees, there are plenty of smaller ones to go after, but it would be funny to me to see hippies clinging to the branches in the rain.

Existentialism Diaries: Part One: There is Still Time ... Brother

When I was 12, I had this strange habit of watching ancient black and white films just to make fun of them. Until, I saw On The Beach and it completely changed my life.

I was young, so maybe I didn't understand the deeper meanings, but at the time it was one of the most beautiful films I'd ever seen. To say the least, I was surprised there was so much meaning packed inside.

On The Beach is a 1959 film set in 1964, right after World War III, right after all the bombs fall, atom bombs blossoming in the sunset. Gregory Peck, Anthony Perkins, Ava Gardner and Fred Astaire are four people living in Austrailia, awaiting huge clouds of radiation to float down and suffocate the world's only survivors. The film focuses on the last scraps of humanity, slowly being eaten away, the extreme existential emotions of expecting the inevitable.

A lone submarine journeys to America to investigate a strange Morse code signal and find survivors, but upon arrival in San Francisco the crew realizes their worst fears. The end really came.

And so they submarine returns to Austrailia and the characters wait. They go to the pharmacy and the government gives them suicide pills if they wish, and everyone waits.

A few people fulfill their lifetime dreams in quiet desperation. Fred Astaire races a vintage Ferrari. Ava Gardner and Gregory Peck have a romantic fling. Old men sit in their country clubs and complain about the wine. A waiter plays pool. Everyone goes fishing and they sing, "Waltzing Matilda".

They do meaningless, stupid things because they want to. Because they can. They want to add some last-minute purpose to their doomed, pathetic existences. And then the power flickers out.

For years, the poignant imagery in the film has been stuck in my mind. The empty streets of San Francisco, the empty Golden Gate Bridge. The S.O.S. Coke bottle in the window. The banner, waving in the wind, proclaiming, "THERE IS STILL TIME. . . BROTHER." Few plot lines fascinate me as much as the inevitable.

I realize that my introduction to On The Beach was my first experience with existentialism. And I am an existentialist as well as a follower of Christ. They don't always contradict. My existentialist views can be good because of the retarded anxiety they produce. I am constantly trying to accomplish the goals and dreams I have, as if I'm already a decapitated chicken.

To the rest of the world, On The Beach was a warning to the world, a promise more poignant than The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951) (another film I saw merely to make fun of and ended up loving). And perhaps the message of OTB was not entirely a don't-blow-yourself-up plea. Maybe it was a reflection of humanity. At this moment in time, we humans aren't facing imminent extinction, at least that we know of (global warming aside), but we all have the same anxieties. We all have these dreams and awkward motivations to somehow make our eating, sleeping, shitting, breathing MEAN something.

Only, because, since we don't fear death as much as the Australians watching the skyline from the Beach, we suppress our desires. Procrastinate. We never worry about that next breath.

I always come back to this, because I believe life has the meaning we give it: life means nothing unless we recognize our Creator and more so, realize brokenness is the only way to survive. In that sense, On The Beach completely changed the way I look at life and got me closer to God. At least, in an "eat, drink and be merry" sorta way.

It's kind of terrifying to be so open about that belief, but I'm not trying to belittle anyone who doesn't agree with me, only it can come across that way.

Still, I hope to live life with the helpless anxiety portrayed in the doomed eyes of Anthony Perkins as he serves his wife and child cyanide laced tea. Or maybe without that gaze. I can't decide.

I leave off with what Yeoman Swain said in the film, right before he jumped ashore in San Francisco, essentially committing suicide, "I have a date on Market Street, Captain. I'm going home."

Five Fotos: Week Uno

I want to integrate my photography a lot more with my writing, starting with a five foto's of the week (that will likely happen once a month). The point is to showcase my favorite shots of the week, no matter what comes out. Anyway, here's the start.

To A New Place

Canon AE-1 35mm Kodak Plus-x Pan Film - Arizona

• Onward, to adventure and self-discovery.
• Self-developed, under-developed and turned all the film red.

--

Unloading Bay

Canon AE-1 35mm film - Arizona

• Trash dumped behind abandoned Wal-Mart. Returning shit to whence it came.

--

Crushed

Kodak Disposable Camera, 35mm film - Flagstaff

• Bored ice cream parlor with lazily stocked shelves, products designed to catch the eye, begging to be picked up. Muting the colors and downplaying that gimmick, as if the slogan is now "Empty Feelings Inside!®"

--

Borrowed Gift

Pentax K-1000 35mm film, green filter - Flagstaff

•Such a grand tree, borrowed camera and filter.

--

Story of the Eye

Pentax K-1000 35mm film, zero flash - Bathroom

• Eggs in a toilet. Recreated scene from "The Story of the Eye" by Georges Bataille, but definitely NOT for the same reasons as the author.
• Eggs were hard to flush and I had to crush them with a plunger to get them down. In retrospect, not a good idea at all. They probably started to smell, but luckily I moved out the next day.





[Insert something conclusive]