So, I love Woody Guthrie, Jack Kerouac, Johnny Cash, Allen Ginsberg, Bob Dylan, Billy Bragg, etc.  If you hate hipsters, you hate the future.  I really believe that.  Although Ray Bradbury actually was highly critical of hipster self-importance in one of his short stories, which was pretty rad.  

Even so, my opinion is that it's better to feel self-important than unimportant, or unprovocative of any change.  One of my old journalism teachers said, "You gotta have an ego to write.  Your ego <i>will</i> get bruised.  It takes courage to put it all out there."

It almost seemed imperative that I go see, "I'm Not There," the new movie based on the life of Bob Dylan.

Holy crap-and-a-half, it was good.  Not just 'good' in a general way, but good in more of a symbolic way.  And Kate Blanchett as Bob Dylan was pretty bitchin'.  I love her, and it was cool to see her as a guy.  Not just any guy, either, but one who's world-reknown.  It must have been very challenging to be not just a man, but a legend as well. She pulled it off really well.

An interesting thing that was said in the movie that I think a lot of writers and musicians have trouble with was the statement, "Live your own time."  There's a little kid who goes around from boxcar to boxcar in the 60's telling everyone his name is Woody Guthrie.  He stays with this family, and the mother of the family says that he's a talented kid, but he needs to stop singing about the Dustbowl and start living in the 60s.  He needs to start singing songs of his own time, and of his own contemporary social issues.

I think a lot of my friends and I who play music or write or do any type of art, find it hard not to revert back into the mode of those who've inspired us.  It's so poignant to just say, "Live your own time."  I shouldn't write about unionizing anymore than Guthrie would've in 2007, and I shouldn't write about Vietnam anymore than Bob Dylan right now.  I won't paint Marilyn Monroe or write a story about the great depression.  I should be concerned about what's going on <i>now</i>.  The difficulty in living our own time, is finding out that nobody, or barely anybody, even cares.  These are confusing times, and maybe that's what They want.  It's hard to write about confusion when nobody can get their facts straight.  Distract us with shiney objects and we'll never get around to crucifying you.  Even more difficult is finding something that rhymes with 'corporate hegemony.'

I guess we could all write about shameless indulgence and the environment and failed adherence to international laws.  But if it's not something that affects people directly, nobody cares.  Nobody will care about human rights violations, or diamond trades, if it's not something that detracts from our qualities of living on a daily basis.  The farmer or 10 year old who loses an arm in a field in Laos from an active US landmine is affected, but he won't write a song.  The men and women in this fortunate country who are poverty stricken are affected, and won't have time to write songs.  If they do, we won't ever hear it unless it's been processed and bleeped and safe for our consumption.  Don't say "That's me!" because if you're reading this on facebook, you're more blessed than a lot of people.  If we'd pull our heads out of glossies and start looking at the Wall Street Journal, maybe we'd be more pissed off than we are.  I am no exception to this rule, by any means, with my guilty pleasures of <i>America's Next Top Model</i> and McDonald's fries.   (Being an amateur photog justifies the ANTM obsession.  Nothing justifies the fries...)

We love beautiful things to a point where we are repulsed by the ugly truths.   Hollywood rolemodels are few and far between.  While we cannot control what they do, we <i>can</i> control who our idols become.  That is the power we have - to bestow fame and adoration only unto those who deserve it.  We are failing. 

My favorite band on the planet is Crass.  Completely raw, untamed, educated.  They lived their time - and nobody gave a shit because it wasn't 'pretty.'  It's only gotten worse since then.

I don't profess death to electronic music.  I'm wishing death upon empty music and empy heads.

current mood: aggravated

My Prayer:

Please, if there is a god, give me a sign.  Either light my TV on fire, or just let it encompass my life to the point of my absolute vapidity...

xoxo,
~Jamie

Seeing that neither of those things will probably occur, what's the next step in my grieving process for the American Dream? 

Write an angry blog, of course.

So I watched a bit o' the telly today and realized just how much absolute shit we pay people to pump into our brains on a nightly basis. 

Numb me and just hook it directly into my neural-net-proccessor.  I think I'm almost debilitated enough to believe I can "afford that, I can look like this, and I will one day live there..."

Frankly, the worst feeling I had tonight was when I saw a news report, by respected journalists, peddling tips for getting the best deals [SHOP EARLY!] on my loathed, whorish nemesis - black Friday.  There's a writer's strike, right? 

After which, followed a clip of, "The secret to longer lashes!"  An unlikely cure for this common affliction of short, unbecoming eye-hair.  What the fuck? 

No seriously...WHAT THE FUCK!?

International crises...major candidate debates for the coming elections...and I'm watching canned commercials from glorified FarkTV.

Is it not bad enough that I eat food from a Wendy's bag, wear my Levi's jeans, and blog on a site owned by Rupert Murdoch?  Now I have to be told the best ways to spend more money I don't have, for more shit that I don't need? 

The arguement of "Holidays are about family," is dead and gone.  Right now, fuck family.  Fuck Old Navy's MP3 player giveaway at 5am, fuck Boscov's door-busters at 4am, and fuck Al Gore for inventing the Internet that assaults my computer with bad pop-up ads and banner links even as I write this irate blog.  The Gap doesn't give a shit about my family.  Neither do the Keebler Elves, or Betty Crocker, or  Banana Republic, or those sappy Folger's "my son's a soldier and he's home for the holidays - buy me!" wake-up call commercials.  And fuck me, for thinking at even one instance in my life that they ever cared about anything more than the contents of my wallet. 

Wal-Mart took it to a whole new level this week with a radio ad that repulsed me so greatly that I've tuned it off with every subsequent listening...

Parents:  "We'll have to cut more branches off our tree to make sure we can fit all the presents underneath for our bratty, heelys-wearing, why-the-fuck-do-you-need-a-cell-phone-when-you're-only-10-years-old? kids."

I might even start stumping for the Black Spot brand - if it weren't so goddamn trite already. 

I'm only American when I consume like a mofo.  Everyone knows that dastardly, unwritten code..."Your family only loves you if you buy them shit."

I'm left obsessing over a holiday for the birth of a man who supposedly healed the sick and walked on water.  A Wii should suffice.

If there's a god, shouldn't I be giving him a Wii for Christmas? ...or a Playstation 50k?  ...or an ugly sweater?  Instead of giving them to someone else?  I mean, I wouldn't want my whole family to get presents on my  birthday, only for me to come up empty-handed at the end of the day...

I'm no Mod, I'm no punk, I'm no separatist or socialist or anything I'd ever been at the age of 13 - finally, I get that I can't win.  It only took me 12 years to stop making homemade presents and shirkng the Mall.  So I will stand in line for40 minutes with my bottle of $20 Bath and Body Works skunkwater, and hope for an easier time next holiday go-round. 

I think I'm giving up.  Is this the definition of 'adulthood?'  Growing up shouldn't be equated with giving in. 

I will enjoy my chinese labor, my $5 coffee, my NAFTA, and my absolute angst for the outlandish oil prices that have finally made their way to our United neck of the woods after all these years.  I am an American, goddamn it.  I would even bleed red white and blue, if these colours would only run... 

Now where's my gunrack?

current mood: angry

Watching the presidential debates is my favorite thing of all time to do.  Every year, we sit around the TV debating things, tirelessly watching CNN debate films and arguing about various topics at my house.  I don't watch the 'afterparty' circlejerk of reporters down spin alley.  I just watch the debates and then turn off the TV.  I get more facts and less confusion that way. 

I don't even bother with republican primaries anymore, mainly because I'm too far left to identify with anything any of them have to say.  Whatsoever.  And it's not a matter of solely distrusting republicans (because i don't trust dems either), but it truly is a matter of disagreement.  I find that when republicans run for office, they a.) scare me, b.) sound like liberals for about six months.  Then the corporate republicans overpower the legiemate republicans, and we're stuck with a big fat mess.

My new guy is Dennis J. Kucinich.  This guy cracks me up.  I can watch a debate and this guy is like a firecracker - tonight, someone asked a question about the Patriot Act.  He had this to say, "...of course I don't support the patriot act...I read it."   

Not only that, he's voted on the major issues, and he's voted in the interest of the people and the commonsense population.  I'm watching 3 hours of 'flip-floppers,' and he's the only one who's consistently voted and upheld his opinions the entire time.  I like him a great deal, and I haven't felt this way about a candidate in a very, very long time.  The last person I loved like this at election time was Bill Clinton.

I like his accountability sort of framework.  If you're gonna vote a certain way, and the shit later hits the fan as a direct result, you can bet your ass this guy is gonna hold you accountable.  And you can generally understand that he'll take responsibility for the decisions he makes as well.  I like that, a real stand-up guy for a change.  Not making everyone happy, just doing what he believes is ethically correct, and in the best interest of as many people as possible.  It's refreshing.  He almost seems frustrated with his fellow candidates in a way I can't see in the others.  They play grab-ass with one another.  "Oh, I agree with Mr. Obama..."  "Oh,Mrs Clinton is right on this issue, but here's her mistake..."  Yada Yada.  No, pick a side, pick an opinion.  Don't just run down your debate clock by putting your hand up the skirts of your competition.  That's why I like Kucinich - it's like he's saying, "Of course I voted that way.  The question is, why didn't you?  And why are you now regretting it?"  He said this tonight, "I see all of these guys changing their opinions tonight to tell everyone what they want to hear.  Wouldn't it be nice to have a President who was right the first time?"  

Yes, Mr. Kucinich, it would be nice.

These are the years of radical change, and I feel like a frustrated, angry population is more succepticble to the more far-left-leaning, or even third party candidates.  I mean, an independent won't win or course, but this is just the type of angry election that could see a major spike in alternatives to the traditional Dems and Reps.  I don't think that's a bad thing.  Do you remember Ross Perot?  I do.  Well, I remember charts and big ears.  More that than, though, I remember a genuine desire for people to see this guy run and win - something I haven't seen about any independent candidate, since.  This could be the year that a legitemate 3rd party could make a real dent in our traditional elections.  

I love it.

I also love Hilary Clinton's wit.  I don't believe I'd ever vote for her because she's ever so shady.  Maybe in another lifetime.  BUT she said this tonight, off the cuff, and I laughed until I cried with sheer triumph as a woman:

           It's clear that they aren't attacking me because I'm a woman, they're attacking me 
           because I'm...ahead.  And as Harry Truman once said, "If you can't take the heat, 
           get out of the kitchen."  I'm quite comfortable in the kitchen.

Today I watched legitemate, actual TV for the first time in months, again.  I must say, I'm sure out of the loop now...

Apparently, Paris Hilton is stil the bees knees even after being jailed.  Vapidity knows no bounds!

Britney Spears is a fucking white trash trainwreck stripper/flapper clowny makeup whore (with a bad wig).  

Yes, I will pay more for GAP clothes, if it means that people in other countries will be exploited for much fairer prices on the whole.

Angelina Jolie is still drop-dead gorgeous.

 George Clooney is still not married to me.

Oh, and fuck Ryan Seacrest, too.



I'm realizing that I haven't missed much.  Well, I've missed a ton, actually...just nothing worth worrying about, I guess.

current mood: bitchy

I don't want to think about it, but that's all my mind wanders to on a regular, constant basis. Sometimes, it consumes me, although I'd never let it show. I'd never be that cliche girl that wants to pry into every corner of his mind.

"Do I look fat?"
"Do you love me?"
"What are you thinking?"

Those are the death-blows, yes?

What's he thinking? What's he thinking? What goes on in that noggin after years of togetherness have left us completely silent and isolated?

I can't keep from wondering. It's involuntary. Sometimes I think about it when I'm driving in the car, and he's not even present. 

What's he thinking? If he asked me that, I wouldn't even have an answer. I'd fiddle with my necklace and prattle about, disingenuously searching for words until the commercial break ends or the waiter brings the check.

I'm thinking what you're reading - I'm wondering what he's thinking. I can't tell him that. He wouldn't understand.

These are the conversations I have with myself, and these are the reasons I'm afraid to settle - afraid to commit to the idea that one day he'll scale the wall, put his lips to my ear and whisper,  "I dunno. What are you thinking?"

current mood: scared