I am in a terrible mood and so I am going to fill this journal, which is the most insignificant thing I can think of, with all the bile I'd rather launch at specific targets. It's a bit like a death threat to someone I've never met, or an anonymous love letter.
I hate the pompous use of foreign languages. I hate when people say things like "I love" or "It's true" in other languages, simply because they are other languages. There are words which can't be translated, those are fine left in their original, pretension, however, is never made less so because it is in German or French. Also, foreign movies/music/theory/food is not inherently better. Have you ever had Danish food? That shit's bad.
I hate surrealism. Who the fuck cares about dreams? Sure, Freud said some smart things, but it's not like the TRUE AND UNIQUE HUMAN BEING THAT WE ARE ALL VARIATIONS OF (tm) exists just below our flickering eyelids waiting to spring. The surrealists knew that they would dream 'better' when sleep deprived, and in short bursts of interrupted sleep. They tried to make art our of it. The Koreans, in the war they gifted their name to, ran out of Sodium Pentathol and used the same form of sleep deprivation to get US soldiers to give up strategic information. It's interesting how art and torture so closely walk. (Related thought: was it ever possible for Jackson Pollock, a CIA agent, to produce art?)
I hate the aesthetics of homosexuallity. Why the fuck do I have to associate myself with colors that look as though they were vomited up by a hippy who half digested a box of crayolas? Despite historical memory and re-signification and whatnot, pink is a fucking ugly color, and it's only made worse when neighbored by a rainbow. What the fuck are we, the feel good brigade? Fuck that. The same goes for anarchism: the circle-A is a stupid fucking symbol no matter how you look at it. Puppets are also rather stupid. Pirates are getting over-used.
I hate hipsters, scenesters, and self-styled artists of all shapes and colors. They are all fools who bolster their own sense of self-worth on the most pathetic and superficial of thoughts, desires, and opinions. Scenes are created through exclusion (Oh my god! You like the newest Modest Mouse album, even with the new drummer? They're no good since Issac got clean! Miranda July just got so ... Hollywood ... with "Me You and Everyone We Know", I don't know how you could sit through it! The Strokes were done with track three on their first album.) Dismissal is such an easy way to never form a cogent opinion of one's own ... if it's on Pitchfork it's true, if Focus releases it, it's good, there hasn't been a good industrial album since 1993. Talk about nothing but "sound and fury; signifying nothing."
I hate feminism. Christ, what a sad notion. You know how like, anti-slavery had it's time, and became a broader, more nuanced anti-racism movement? And how that's becoming an anti-race movement right now? Why the fuck isn't that happening with feminism? What the hell is up with the oppositions from like, 1840 still being around? There's all the right critiques being made, they're just not being absorbed by feminism. Whither queer theory, eh? Aren't we smarter than all this .... Henry Miller did not write with his cock. He wrote with his spleen; there's a difference. I'm sick of yonic symbolism and phallogocentrism (I'll get to deconstruction in a moment!). If half the people who used these terms took them seriously they wouldn't call themselves feminists, but anarchists.
You know what, just fuck deconstruction. It's the existentialism of the 90s: too trendy to be understood. It's a half though out, barely understood, and throughly problematic pseudo-theory. Derrida was brilliant. His readers are twats.
I hate conspiracy theories. I hate 'going out'. I hate staying in. I hate this basement and my father. I hate skunks because there is one outside so I can't go and have a cigarette. I hate old birthday cards because I can't throw them away and so as I age my rooms are slowly filling up with dusty well-wishes. I hate flirts and hooking up and tits and cocks and sex generally. I hate those big fucking inflatable-waving-arm advertisement things you see on the side of roads. And most of all I hate you for reading this without commenting on what an unappreciated genius I am and how each publisher/editorial committee/grant committee/ I've ever had the most modest contact with is such a fool for not throwing money/accolades/drugs/thanks at me.
I hate the pompous use of foreign languages. I hate when people say things like "I love" or "It's true" in other languages, simply because they are other languages. There are words which can't be translated, those are fine left in their original, pretension, however, is never made less so because it is in German or French. Also, foreign movies/music/theory/food is not inherently better. Have you ever had Danish food? That shit's bad.
I hate surrealism. Who the fuck cares about dreams? Sure, Freud said some smart things, but it's not like the TRUE AND UNIQUE HUMAN BEING THAT WE ARE ALL VARIATIONS OF (tm) exists just below our flickering eyelids waiting to spring. The surrealists knew that they would dream 'better' when sleep deprived, and in short bursts of interrupted sleep. They tried to make art our of it. The Koreans, in the war they gifted their name to, ran out of Sodium Pentathol and used the same form of sleep deprivation to get US soldiers to give up strategic information. It's interesting how art and torture so closely walk. (Related thought: was it ever possible for Jackson Pollock, a CIA agent, to produce art?)
I hate the aesthetics of homosexuallity. Why the fuck do I have to associate myself with colors that look as though they were vomited up by a hippy who half digested a box of crayolas? Despite historical memory and re-signification and whatnot, pink is a fucking ugly color, and it's only made worse when neighbored by a rainbow. What the fuck are we, the feel good brigade? Fuck that. The same goes for anarchism: the circle-A is a stupid fucking symbol no matter how you look at it. Puppets are also rather stupid. Pirates are getting over-used.
I hate hipsters, scenesters, and self-styled artists of all shapes and colors. They are all fools who bolster their own sense of self-worth on the most pathetic and superficial of thoughts, desires, and opinions. Scenes are created through exclusion (Oh my god! You like the newest Modest Mouse album, even with the new drummer? They're no good since Issac got clean! Miranda July just got so ... Hollywood ... with "Me You and Everyone We Know", I don't know how you could sit through it! The Strokes were done with track three on their first album.) Dismissal is such an easy way to never form a cogent opinion of one's own ... if it's on Pitchfork it's true, if Focus releases it, it's good, there hasn't been a good industrial album since 1993. Talk about nothing but "sound and fury; signifying nothing."
I hate feminism. Christ, what a sad notion. You know how like, anti-slavery had it's time, and became a broader, more nuanced anti-racism movement? And how that's becoming an anti-race movement right now? Why the fuck isn't that happening with feminism? What the hell is up with the oppositions from like, 1840 still being around? There's all the right critiques being made, they're just not being absorbed by feminism. Whither queer theory, eh? Aren't we smarter than all this .... Henry Miller did not write with his cock. He wrote with his spleen; there's a difference. I'm sick of yonic symbolism and phallogocentrism (I'll get to deconstruction in a moment!). If half the people who used these terms took them seriously they wouldn't call themselves feminists, but anarchists.
You know what, just fuck deconstruction. It's the existentialism of the 90s: too trendy to be understood. It's a half though out, barely understood, and throughly problematic pseudo-theory. Derrida was brilliant. His readers are twats.
I hate conspiracy theories. I hate 'going out'. I hate staying in. I hate this basement and my father. I hate skunks because there is one outside so I can't go and have a cigarette. I hate old birthday cards because I can't throw them away and so as I age my rooms are slowly filling up with dusty well-wishes. I hate flirts and hooking up and tits and cocks and sex generally. I hate those big fucking inflatable-waving-arm advertisement things you see on the side of roads. And most of all I hate you for reading this without commenting on what an unappreciated genius I am and how each publisher/editorial committee/grant committee/ I've ever had the most modest contact with is such a fool for not throwing money/accolades/drugs/thanks at me.