#or because they represent the anxieties of living in a late capitalist society

[morayofsunshine]

my lemdem characters have anxiety bc i, without knowing at the time of their creation, also have anxiety, and i made them in university during the trump "presidency" which was a Time

my ttrpg characters have adhd because i don't know what playing a non-adhd person is like and i can have a hard time focusing at the table

the phenomenon of my own neurodivergencies manifesting themselves in my characters isn't always intentional right off the bat but it's always genuinely fun when i spot them

[h0neywheat]

i know i joke about how it took me a couple years combined with making two fleshed out characters who are transmasc to figure out i was transmasc. i know im the projection king but ive been doing a little introspection lately and wanted to write out my thoughts so hey feel free to read

wheatley I’m so sorry you got named as a joke years ago and it stuck for this long because whoops…

odds are, I treat wheats how i would treat my own past self if i had also figured out gender stuff in my early teens. congrats dude, you get a family that supports you 100% in regards to sexuality and gender also your needs are met they best they can be in regards to your autism. wheats exists in a world where any societal factor I had to repress in my teens, he is allowed to express without question. the people around him love him for who he is. his problems do not come from gender, sexuality, and neurotypical expectations…at least not directly. he still lives in a capitalistic society, but that’s not the point I’m getting at here. like if I was allowed to explore who I was more other than the rigid catholic upbringing I had and was not reprimanded and forced to mask and repress neurodivergent traits, wheats represents a sort of alternate timeline of myself.

yes so many factors are also different, but at this point I feel like he exists as a extension of my younger self, something that could have been if a lot of factors were different. so I treat him with a lot of kindness but also give him character development appropriate for someone who is 16 and still navigating the world (and also the plot of the story he is in) at that age. he isn’t perfect, he has flaws of his own, he still has to deal with growing up, making friends, and high school nonsense.

I love all of my kid ocs equality and each one gets their own sprinkles of self love through projection, but wheats is pretty special for this reason. he was the first step for a couple of my own self discoveries and creative processes so he has a special bread shaped place in my heart.

now matty…

hey, maybe making a taller, transmasc, recolor of yourself to roleplay as has consequences. look, if I had the option to slice my tits off for free and take a potion that makes me taller, gets rid of my hips, and deepens my voice over the span of 24 hours I fucking would. matty wasn’t just me getting the chance to play dnd for the first time and be a funny cursed pirate man once a week. no, I also got to try being a guy for a couple years before realizing that the transmasculine character i was rping was really comfy. from the very start he was someone everyone poked fun at because he really is just some guy in a wacky situation. all the teasing was out of fondness and funny enough, matty helped me realize I was masc. turns out I was also just some guy.

but this lucky son of a shit also has family that knows he’s a big gay trans idiot and isn’t all that neurotypical as well, and I get to be his voice lmao. I only talk mean about him because he’s just so easy to make fun of. I’m so easy to make fun of! but I do it out of love! out of fondness! he doesn’t deserve anything bad or horrible! just suffer the consequences of his actions. all the goofy stupid things that come to bite us both in the ass…I love that shit. I see my own flaws that I’ve learned from, project them onto mattheu and have him learn from them but through his own story.

matty is me if i lived without anxiety or shame of who I was coming into adulthood. more than just a gender presentation ideal, he’s a confidence role model in a way. he’s a pathetic wet cardboard box of a man, but he owns it.

there’s a whole lot more I could probably write but these two are characters are in a current wip and dnd campaign so, fear of spoilers if anyone ends up reading this bc I’m posting publicly

anyway, the middle of the venn diagram of wheats and matty is just me and i love it. love these two and how they helped me figure stuff out while also letting me flex my creative muscles. we’re all just a couple of guys

[moogieandadhd]

fml. - A Personal Note on ADHD and Capitalism

disclaimer for this post: my personal political views are mine only and do not represent my educational institution or my employer. if you have different views, or don't agree, i'm open to discussion if you want to talk about it. however, this blog is not about politics. this blog is about existing with ADHD. please engage in friendly debate only. thanks!

if you're an ADHDer in the world of leftism, you may have heard or been asked the question "would ADHD still exist under capitalism?". if you're like me, you probably were a little taken aback by this question. my initial thoughts were, "capitalism sucks, but this disorder that has seriously fucked with my life is not seriously being reduced to just an anti-capitalist 'gotcha'?"

i was pretty bothered by that question. i slept on it, thinking about it forever before i thought about what the question was really asking. first, we have to understand the leftist theories in what happens in late-stage capitalism as well as how ADHDers have always existed in this country (USA, for my international pals).

the general societal expectation is to go to school, get your license and buy a car, graduate high school, get a job maybe while you are still in high school, take out some thousands of dollars of loans to go to college, get a degree and start your career, get successful and maybe even rich. you can start a business if you want to, trade crypto and buy stock, get filthy rich, and die. we are expected to consume, consume, consume. there are 14 different brands for the same kind of canned chicken noodle soup, made in the same factories. all for our consumption, under the illusion that we have choices and that there is individual freedom in those choices. this is a super brief summary, but definitely look into more leftist/marxist theory if you are in interested. this is a good quick read.

now, how does this tie in with ADHD? under this same lens, ADHDers are diagnosed based on our disruption and inconvenience to society. we are all over the place. stereotypically, we don't sit still. we have trouble with authority. classrooms are either a constricting hell, or the one safe place we can simply be. we have an increased risk for addiction. we are more likely to be arrested than neurotypicals. we are at risk for developing comorbidities, such as anxiety and depression. we are more likely to drop out of schooling, and more likely to not pursue college. our divorce rates are higher than average. we are more at risk for getting into debilitating debt. less likely to get promoted at work, or keep a job for a stable amount of time. more likely to have our lives reduced to a statistic.

it's pretty fucking depressing, right?

all of that goes pretty hard against the expectations for capitalist society. but, i always had this theory that our society was not built for anyone who doesn't fit that specific standard. cisgendered, white, Christian, traditional, rich, attractive, non-disabled, no mental health issues, generally a convenience, whatever that specific standard is. having undiagnosed ADHD until i was 18, i experienced that in such a rough first-hand account.

if you don't want to read my personal story and get back to the topic, skip down to the dashed line. there's a lot that i wrote on my personal experience, i kind of word vomited. but if you wanna read that, it starts now!

typical burnt-out gifted kid. always had my nose in a book. was reading at a 12th-grade level in 4th grade. then something changed. maybe it was trauma, maybe i was just bored because i had done it all, who the hell knows! my grades went from straight-A's to D's and F's. i used to say that i would off myself from embarrassment if i ever failed a grade in the 6th grade. then i failed the 9th grade, my freshman year of highschool. then i really did try to. then i was depressed. then i did stuff for attention and couldn't stay interested in a hobby and got into all sorts of trouble. run ins with police, addiction, all that very fun stuff. then i got my ass handed to me by the cops and my parents and i tried to save the shredded ribbons of my high school career. i left public school and homeschooled. i made it to my junior year before i crashed again and dropped out. tried to get a job, because i couldn't be a bum and live at my parent's house without doing anything. got fired after 3 months.

then, i was forced to go to therapy. again. i was first in therapy in middle school after the first cracks were appearing - slipping grades, general lack of care for the future, and the self-harm and the eating issues jesus h christ. i won't go into detail for the sake of sticking to the topic and to prevent triggers, but you get the picture. i was a mess before my life even really begun. that therapist helped me to an extent. she helped me sort out my feelings and trauma. then i was "stable" until what i call the Crash and Burn Era of my life. definitely humbling.

anyway, this new therapist was pretty interesting when i told her everything i had been through. the ADHD conversation went something like this:

me: "im just not really sure what's wrong with me. i feel so different from everyone else. i take stuff too far. i know the right things to do, but yet i do the complete opposite."

therapist: "do you like coffee? or, energy drinks maybe?"

me: "yeah. i drink them all the time. they don't really give me energy, but they're good, so."

therapist: "have you ever taken Adderall? or Vyvanse? anything like that?"

me: (instantly thinking about all of the drugs i experimented with. yes, definitely did those several times. didn't understand the hype.) "um, i dunno..."

therapist: "i'm not gonna tell your parents or report you. you mentioned having issues with drugs, so i just wanna know if those ever crossed your path." (she has a serious face on when saying this).

me: "um, yeah. i've done both of those. uh..."

therapist: "how did that go for you?"

me: "i'm sorry, i don't think i understand?"

therapist: "it's a straightforward question. when you took stimulants, how did it make you feel?"

me: "well, uh... everyone said it makes you feel like, super euphoric and super focused." (worried at this point anything i said would be used against me in a court of law) "um, i had friends who took it and were able to pull all-nighters with homework and stuff, but, like, i was just kinda tired actually."

therapist: "have you ever heard of ADD or ADHD?"

me: "yeah of course... how do you think i got the Adderall? haha." (insert painfully awkward laugh here.)

therapist: (actually laughed at my joke attempt, making me feel less like im being interrogated) "i'm gonna schedule you an appointment with a psychiatrist. i can't believe you haven't been tested for ADD or ADHD yet."

....and thus, the can of worms was opened. i was diagnosed with combined type ADHD (both hyperactive and inattentive) two months later. i researched as much as possible: books, scholarly articles and studies, ted talks, blogs, anything i could get my hands on. and everything just fell into place so perfectly. it was like the time when i got eyeglasses for the first time and i put them on and saw so clearly. (i remember saying, "is this how everyone sees?")

then i was angry. my own perception of ADHD was misinformed, but research on it was severely underdeveloped, and media portrayal was just garbage. i just happened to get randomly lucky. the universe conspired to get me back on track and damn, was it a doozy. i was angry because after my weeks of research, it all became so obvious. but i wasn't a disruptive little boy who was always running around and breaking rules. my parents couldn't have thought it was so obvious. but i was angry at them anyway.

then i was angry at the world. angry because the typical public school system isn't designed for kids like me. angry because i was always treated so differently and always behaved so differently, but i was given the same solutions as everyone else and expected to just get on with life. i learned masking. i learned how to blend in. but it was never right, was it? otherwise it would have worked.

------------------------------------------

but then, what does ADHD look like if we took away all the structure and all the expectation of society? what is ADHD when i'm alone in my room? that is the answer to the question, i think.

and the answer i have come up with is: ADHD would still exist without capitalism. but, we wouldn't be punished for it. i remember my hyperfixation phase on greek mythology and inevitably, the percy jackson series. notably when they discussed ADHD early on in the first book. percy, the main character, has a best friend named grover (who is a satyr). when he finds out he is a demigod (mortal mother, his dad is posideon, pretty crazy), grover explains that his ADHD isn't a weakness.

"....And the ADHD - you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little."

i gotta hand it to rick riordan: that man gave millions of ADHD kids solace in his series. god bless that man.

but, that's the essence of it. ADHDers are not a product of late-stage capitalism; we are a product of a brain that is wired differently. if our means of personal value was not based on how much we can produce, how much money we made, if we were not made to feel guilty for resting, if the modern-day boring classroom was no longer, if we were given rehabilitation for addiction, and prisons are indeed obsolete... those symptoms would not go away. a quick google search brings up these typical symptoms (disclaimer, not every ADHDer will have every single one of these symptoms):

being unable to sit still, especially in calm or quiet surroundings.

constantly fidgeting.

being unable to concentrate on tasks.

excessive physical movement.

excessive talking.

being unable to wait their turn.

acting without thinking.

interrupting conversations.

that would still exist. our motor mouths or goldfish syndrome wouldn't just magically dissipate. but it would mean our existence would be less burdensome. i can't really give you the full picture, because i don't know that utopia. but i can say, i believe there would be less comorbidity rates. there would no longer be a pressure to mindlessly consume and produce beyond our threshold and burn out. i believe we would be free of mindless consumerism and production, the handcuffs off. that would improve for everybody, ADHDer or not - but especially so for us. the unbearable weight that is capitalist expectation, the guilt and shame that many of us are familiar with, tossed to the side. we are not expected to have excessive material wealth to be considered worthy of respect. we are not to be obedient and blindly loyal dogs for corporations that are worth trillions and give us scraps to live off of, and we are slapped if we dare to ask for more.

ADHD is not a product of capitalism; but capitalism definitely doesn't like it.

[z3r0-f4ilur3]

The Record Begins With a Song Of Rebellion

First Draft Of the Capitalist Surrealist Writing Project. Steal and appropriate, critique and interrogate, with the author's full endorsement and permission. Looking (back)(for)wyrds After the Bush interregneum and the long, terrible, progress destroying Reagan years, the American empire had something like a moment of hope. Riding high on the peace dividend and a delusion of idealism among the donating classes, the economic aristocracy which in effect was the senior partner in “American Democracy” (and so duly represented in both parties) and the voter was a paternalized junior to be both petted and protected had selected the Clinton dynasty. The grand bargain between labour and capital against the state resulted in the bitter fruit of the Bush years, as Conservatives paternalists rightly mocked the Clintonian urge to middling action on domestic issues while gladly partnering with him to rob labour at large. While a wealth transfer had already been going on as part of a trend for the better part of a century, this phase in which a semi-coherent ruling class dynamic of the donating classes and the government service classes became visible. It is beyond satire now, but this was not always so visible, as racism, white supremacy, American exceptionalism, various fundementalist and conservative (as well as equally harmful, supposedly liberal versions of the same) religious beliefs; Turtle Island was rife with reasons for temporary cross class solidarity in order to oppose an other or to advance an idealistic goal.

And yet moments of class consciousness and solidarity have perenially emerged, from the “grassroots” as the insiders like to say. They frame the people as “the base” or “the grassroots” and narrowly target their interests to make people find conflict with each other. It is irrelevent (for this missive) whether this is a conscious, semi-conscious, or unconscious process; it is enough to notice it happening. Despite this, moments in the pre new-modern (to be defined later, promise~) politics that predate terms like Black Lives Matter or Trans Rights are Human Rights show that these movements represent an unbroken chain of revolutionary attempts at self-consciousness and conscience transformation that coincide and are just as important as any history of violence. The Ides of March, and the campaign of anonymous internet citizens against Scientology, represents such a moment. Occupy Wall Street was such a movement. “We’re Here, We’re Queer, Get Used To It!” was such a phrase. The many quotes attributed to names like Mandela and James Baldwin; the Black Panthers, the revolutionary feminists, the Hippie movement, down back to the (In the American mind) hoary days of yore when the Wide Awakes would march a brass band around the houses of pro slave Senators.

It is a poor yet accurate summation to say that the ‘present’ (a dubious notion) political reality is the sum of all of these and more; a reader can orient themselves to the history of late stage capitalism by the growth of the donating classes influence and the acceleration of their detachment from society at large. Moments which also impact this reality are the donating classes sense of pessimism about the future; the devaluing of nearly all forms of labour, the increasing visibility of law enforcement brutality; the list can be referenced in the moment to moment, wide eyed and angry reporting of self-matyring, news-junkie amateur journalists found anywhere online, the shocked and angry expressions of young activists at protests and the weary, numbed faces of the old. Up and down the class system, there has been a wide spread death of hope.

Enter the climate crisis.

Before climate consciousness achieved real steam, our escatological fears were (mostly) confined to the realm of human action or cosmic events unimaginable (and unrelatable) to the modern person’s experience of life. For decades, the effects of climate change were reported to a world told not to care. As Terrance Mkenna said, ““The apocalypse is not something which is coming. The apocalypse has arrived in major portions of the planet and it’s only because we live within a bubble of incredible privilege and social insulation that we still have the luxury of anticipating the apocalypse.”

The impact of this can and will be expanded upon, but it is safe to say that the bubble has been popped. Whatever finds popular currency within the dialogue around it, that the climate is changing rapidly in ways inemical to human society at large/at present is true by material impact; people everywhere have experienced some negative result of the changing conditions, and there is a rising anxiety in the classes who cannot afford an escape pod or fortress bunker that the people they’ve entrusted themselves to intend to withdraw to safety and abandon them, or even expose them to more harm in order to “make more of the earth’s carrying weight available in the reclamation” (this kind of talk is not alien to them, though this specific quotation is my own invention.

It is important to acknowledge that the bubble has popped. It is the exclamation on Capitalist Realism; it is the moment of awareness, that encounter with a death of hope, in which Capitalist Surrealism, our phenomenological experience of the Capitalist Real, is born. While this Surrealist stage is both uncomfortable and has deleterious effects on the human condition, it represents the chink in the armour of banality and inertia, and the diminishing politics of the powerful. The sense that anything, absolutely *anything,* can happen to you, is both incredibly terrifying, and when looked at squarely, an opportunity for radical freedom.

It is this radical freedom that we see ourselves invited to in the many facets of human expression and convention which have experienced an awakening of new consciousness (or the restoration of old ones. Beliefs, ways of interacting with the world, and surviving are no longer benefited by or even neutrally treated by their operating environment anymore; if the complete weight of propaganda in circulation at the moment could be translated into sound, it would present an impenetrable and unlistenable wall.

It is that environment that individual ideologies not sanctioned by the operating environment have struggled against; all of them now have new life and vigor because despite that wall, and the spectacle societies which generate them, the literal truth of material impacts trump all prior arguments. With awareness of most likely outcomes of the climate crisis on a sliding scale, we see radicalization and existential depression of all varieties spike; the answers they attempt to generate to these apparent conditions lack hope in broad but uneven spikes along that scale of awareness, with the suicidally depressed expert climatologist and the radical anarcho-primitivist sharing the same ontological space in orientation to that crisis.

This project, among other things, is an attempt to generate an alternative answer (what that project consists of is entirely based in literature and mutual aid, the oldest Christian platforms for emancipatory action.) Terms like Solarpunk and Cloud City Futures approach but fail to capture the spirit of an alternative answer, mostly with an appeal to the world of aesthetics, a dubious method for summoning change at best. Terminology alone, or even in tandem with education, is also not sufficient; the noise environment they enter into immediately drowns out the creators meaning, especially if these terms are successful and gain currency with the wealthy.

Rather, we must articulate the positive from all our apparent negatives: The apocalyptic futures we anticipate cannot begin actually describe the terrain of the future, and the apparancy of our material conditions impact on our lives is now drowning out the sound of the standing ideologies. This is a brave time, where people blaze trails for others to follow out of the collapsing structures of the past and into the dwelling places of the new future. Our experience of reality, though surreal, has now unlocked an awareness of an apparent power: making meaning.

It is with the tools of meaning-making that these, who are the heirs of their elders, queer and colour revolutionary and indigenous land defender and abolitionist, pioneer the hopeful vistas of the future. It is necessary that they *be* hopeful; it was the Buddha who taught that people deceived by Samsara may be “deceived” by the apparent gifts of pursuing enlightenment, the majority of which are ancillary incidentals not to be meditated on. The king calls his indolent heirs out of the burning palace with a promise of gifts; when they arrive, they protest the lack of gifts, but it is in his embrace of them we realize they are the gift, and their survival was worth the promise of chariots and ponies.

But there must also be chariots, and ponies; luxuries, and finery; the grim tools of “defense” and all the things the human animal finds comforting in their resting environment to assure them of its stability. In the Dao De Jing, (Though Mueller butchers the poetry,) the Sage articulates this and describes how to create it: “Let there be a small country with few people,

Who, even having much machinery, don't use it.

Who take death seriously and don't wander far away.

Even though they have boats and carriages, they never ride in them.

Having armor and weapons, they never go to war.

Let them return to measurement by tying knots in rope.

Sweeten their food, give them nice clothes, a peaceful abode and a relaxed life.

Even though the next country can be seen and its doges and chickens can be heard,

The people will grow old and die without visiting each other's land.” A.C. Mueller Translation, The Dao De Jing, Attributed to Lao Tzu

It is as naked an appeal to a return to the life of the community and the village as can be found. A return to idigenous ways of being, which speaks to the preservation of folk ways, while the reality that the sage is administering them (even if only by moral teaching) shows a potential for new ideas to be instanced; innovation is not a property innate to the colonizing and walled world, and memetic culture and the society of truth-telling through representation around it reflect callbacks to this desire. The political movement around Land Back, while perennial to the causes of indigenous people, crystalizes an actionable answer for individuals and collectives to support. Its cousins in other colour movements, many of them representing indigenous people displaced by imperialism in the first place, are also generative of positive futures; it is a fact of history that as the rights of people classified as “minorities” are raised, the general quality of life for all in society rises, with the exception of those who could never be touched but by the highest tides.

These movements and moments of consciousness are their own inestimable goods, not mere ends for the would be conscious person to hijack for their goals. This is in fact a position inimical to the success of any of these movements; grifting starts at home, and it is the white leftist who is more easily conquered by the white liberal, since neither of them have conquered their own whiteness in the first place. But that supporting them generates positive benefits for all can only be argued against if you value the lives and comforts of some over others; those who value the general benefit first can see a clear path.

It is that clarity that gives meaning makers license to create the vistas of the future. It is the “Mandate of Heaven” that endorses the artists, a general operating license to create. Because the material impact of the present is louder than the noise of Capital, there an outburst of fertility and growth, the very seeds of hope, breaking out in the midst of this Surrealism. It is with the tools of meaning making, and the canvas of the crisis, that people escape the real.

[edgeofisolation]

Slice an Dice: An Acedemic Review of Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film by Carol Clover

Since its induction, horror films are one of the most evocative genres of film of all time. Horror has the power to evoke virtually any emotion out of its viewers. The genre has the power to make its audience feel fear, it can make them feel happiness, it can make them feel empowered, and it can even make them cry. But what is most interesting about the genre, perhaps, is the hidden codes and allegories contained within the film that have a lot to say about the socio-political climate of society at both micro and macro levels, Despite this, prior to the time of the release of Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film, horror had been a grossly understudied subject and when it was studied it had been largely subject to the kinds of scrutiny felt by no other genre of film. In her seminal study of gender in horror films (particularly those taking place from the mid-1970s to the late 1980s), Clover provides a detailed and enlightening analysis of the underlying codes allegories contained in modern horror films as it pertains particularly to gender. She largely does this through the analysis of three subgenres in horror that have a (seemingly) central focus on female characters: the slasher film, the rape-revenge film, and the occult film.

At the heart of the book lies Clover’s central argument. Herein, Clover argues for the reasons why it is that young men – the majority audience of these particular genres – are able to identify with female protagonists in these films despite – and perhaps because of – traditional sentiments around cinema spectatorship of the time largely through the theoretical framework of psychoanalysis.  Though the majority of the book roughly revolves around this argument, Clover does make interesting arguments on gender in horror as a whole, the role it places in spectatorship, and the notably frequent amount of times the genre makes use of dual gaze of the assaultive and reactive gaze where the subject of the gaze (at least temporarily) shifts between men and women. Despite the dominant discourse on horror films at the time which frame the genre as a wholly exploitative and ridiculous display of the worst misogyny has to offer, Clover provides a detailed, convincing argument to the ways in which horror (particularly subgenres covered) both reinforces and disrupts traditional notions of Western cinema spectatorship. Though she does not completely refute arguments made by film theorists and critics alike, Clover does provide at the very least an interesting analysis on the ways gender performs in horror movies and the implications it has on not just its spectators, but society as whole – something that had been scarcely covered prior to the time of its release. Succinctly, Clover is arguing that horror has a lot more to say than its gory exploitative exterior might imply. Through the analysis of multiple prominent (and infamous) films in each subgenre covered and framing it predominantly around a psychoanalytic framework, Clover provides an incredibly insightful – if not noticeably limited by its very theoretical framework – analysis on both women in horror and the men who watch and create them.

The book begins with an introduction that largely serves to form the base of the rest of the book and details not only Clover’s central arguments, but what the book as a whole will seek to uncover. This introduction begins with an analysis of the occult film Carrie. What is interesting about this beyond its analysis is the way in which the framing of this analysis broadly ties in the rest of the book. By giving her own understanding of the film and juxtaposing its seemingly feminist undertones to Stephen King’s (the author of the book version of the film) argument that Carrie herself is meant to be an embodiment of adolescent male anxieties, Clover is able provide a surprisingly apt summary of the entire book that becomes increasingly clearer as the book concludes: young men are able to identify with female protagonists (coined victim-heroes) not despite of their differing genders but because of it – something distinctively rooted in one-sex theory.

The following chapter begins her first subgenre analysis, the slasher film. The chapter opens up with a description and explanation of what a slasher film is, including all its tropes and narrative devices. What is immediately interesting is that Clover uses slasher films that are not incredibly critically acclaimed and are largely dismissed for their brutality and vulgarity (with the exceptions of Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street) that on the base seem superficial and generic on their exteriors (such as her detailed analysis of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2), yet, for better or worse, say a lot interiorly. As the chapter progresses what was insightful is her analysis of the Killer and the Final Girl (a term she coined herself). Herein we have Clover describing the Final Girl as the (almost exclusively female) lone survivor of the Killer’s rampage, and the only one able to thwart and defeat the (male) killer (35). Though more prominent in the 1980s than mid-1970s, the Final Girl does so almost entirely on her own where male help is almost useless and entirely disposable – a stark subversion of the traditional cinematic apparatus situating the female as solely a victim and the male as solely heroic (37). More interesting – and a running theme throughout the book – is Clover’s analysis of the gender-swop that takes place here. As the movie progresses, Clover notes the feminization of the Killer (such as a stunted childhood) and the masculinization of the Final Girl (such as her usage of phallocentric tools). Together with the gaze swop from the Killer in the beginning to the Final Girl in the end, genders are swopped psychosexually and where gender now is not contingent on sex and the story becomes explicitly hers (49). The young male viewer is then able to swop identification with the male killer and distinctly towards the female victim-hero (i.e. the audience becomes both victim in the beginning and hero by the end). The story might be hers but it is still expressively male-centred (59).

The second chapter centres on occult films. Beginning much the same as the previous chapter, Clover describes the occult film in detail. On a literal level, Clover describes the Occult film as white science’s battle and submission to black magic. However, as this is distinctly coded through gender, occult films become yet another seemingly subversive narrative account on gender. Here, white science is coded as masculine whereas black magic is coded as feminine (with the exception of priests and children). What stands out as most interesting is then its subtle expression of gender swopping and Clover’s argument that though occult films have women at its core, is still decidedly male-centred – a story about a man in crisis (90). The woman serves as the body and site of black magic due to her femininity being more openness to the penetration of the black magic force (a vessel/accessory), the man serves as the psyche whose story the film is ultimately about. In such, the male, in order to save the female body, must renounce his white science conceptions of rationality (coded as masculine) and become open (coded as feminine) to the ideas and happenings and existence of black magic (99). Through openness the male is able to adopt a ‘good’ masculinity and fully renounce his old cold, distant and closed off ‘bad’ masculinity – if not he is likely to die or lose the woman. For Clover, the nature of the occult film and its psychosexual underpinning leave seemingly feminist readings of the film on hold because it implicitly implies that the creation of the new ‘good’ masculinity comes at expense the female and is still largely male-centric – for the male to more emotionally open, the female must become hysterical (113).

The third chapter introduces the rape-revenge film whereby the story centres on a woman who is brutally raped by one or more men and the similarly brutal revenge she enacts on the men/man involved (and sometimes even those complicit in rape). In a procaqtive study of I Spit on Your Grave and its influencer Deliverance, Clover details the socio-political underpinnings of the rape-revenge that veer away from just gender and incorporate class in its analysis (the only chapter to integrate satisfactory intersectionality). Many rape-revenge films in horror, Clover notes, often occupy on the double axis of male/female and country/city. Succinctly, this entails that these films have an intrinsically class nature to them that is intertwined with its gender-bending. In the rape-revenge film country is coded as masculine and is depicted with the male antagonists where these male country folk are more often than not depicted as poor, highly patriarchal, borderline uncivilised, and live beyond the norms of social law and order; whilst the city is coded as feminine depicted by a (mostly) affluent female protagonist who serves as the films victim-hero and represents civility and capitalist wealth (and exploitation) (144). In such, country men are ideologically positioned as wrong and their act of raping our city female victim-hero is depicted as an inevitable, making the revenge half of the film all the more justifiable. Much like the Final Girl in slasher films, the victim-hero and male antagonists have a gender swap where the men are metaphorically (and sometimes physically) castrated and penetrated by the now masculinized woman (representing psychosexual male anxieties on castration) (159). Rape becomes the problem of the woman to solve on her own and through her masculinization, the story once again appeals to male identification with the female victim-hero where the woman’s brutality is labelled as sweetly justifiable despite his own psychosexual desires/fears on castration and penetration (164).

The final chapter is perhaps the densest in the book that has three distinct but interlinking parts: a critique on film theory and its depiction of horror as solely sadist (i.e. assaultive), an analysis of horror as being both sadist and masochistic (i.e. assaultive and reactive), and the reiteration and settlement of Clover’s central argument. Beginning with an analysis of Peeping Tom, Clover highlights ways in which the film (argued to itself be a critique on cinema) occupies at a level of sadism (Mark Lewis’ murder of the women in front of his camera) and at a level of masochism (Lewis’ own experiences as a child study in front of his Father’s camera and his own eventual suicide) (179). By doing this, Clover argues for the inconsistencies of film theory to wholly regard horror as purely sadistic on the grounds of an assaultive gaze (coded as masculine) and dismissive as one of the vilest forms of modern cinema in its treatment of women. Here, film theory argues that modern cinema looks at women largely through the male gaze where the man serves as the subject, objectifying women by occupying at a level of voyeuristic sadism (the assaultive gaze) with horror being one of the extreme examples of this (206). However, Clover makes an interesting argument that what film theorists ignore, “in the name of feminism,” is that by positioning of horror movie occupying a purely assaultive gaze is to ignore a glaring blind-spot in their argument. Once again bringing forth the subgenre’s described (particularly the rape-revenge film), Clover notes that viewer identification with the victim being one of the tantamount features of the modern horror films, a fact that is heavily exploited by its filmmakers (210). Being that horror’s intention is to cause fear and pain onto its spectators, Clover argues that it is the filmmakers who largely occupy the assaultive gaze whilst the spectators occupy the reactive gaze (but there is an element of the assaultive gaze) which prove its tendency to occupy not simply in the realm of sadism, but of masochism as well despite what common criticism imply (212). Thus in terms of psychosexual fear and desire, the modern horror film, through its exploitation of Freudian notion of ‘feminine masochism’ and the tendency of repetition compulsion in its viewers, is able to locate the (young male) spectator in the reactive gaze (with secondary influences of the assaultive gaze) by aligning his identification with that of the (female) victim(hero) and locating his psychosexual experiences almost firmly is masochism and not simply in sadism as implied by film theorists (222). And it is because of this tendency of feminine masochism that Clover argues answers her overall argument as to why young male spectators would “choose to ‘feel’ fear and pain through the figure of a female – a female, in fact, whose very bodily femaleness is at centre stage” (226).

Clover’s argument, here, is entirely plausible. By positioning horror in the discursive framework of psychoanalysis, Clover is able to sufficiently argue the various ways in which gender plays out in Horror whilst still securely situating it in her initial argument. Though some of her claims would have been dismissible, her extensive use of actual film examples provides a detailed understanding on what Clover is actually trying to say, making the employment of her ‘evidence’ wholly convincing – especially highlighted in her critique of film theory. Lastly, it is interesting the way she positions women in horror. Though there could arguably be a number of feminist undertones in the subgenres described and it is impressive the extent of their subversive natures, they still comes across as heavily male-centric as Clover makes it seem that despite what may seem the story still revolves almost entirely around the experience of it majority audience – young white men.

However, her analysis is not without its faults. Perhaps what strikes as her most glaring problem is her over-usage of her theoretical framework. Though positioning gender psychoanalytically provides at the very least an interesting analysis and heavily influences her argument, Clover’s sole usage of psychoanalysis leaves a few things to be desired. Instead of situating gender in horror under the realms of their social and cultural contexts, Clover misses out a few interesting argument that would add further nuance to her argument(s). For example, in her study of slasher films in the 1980s, by extending her framework to incorporate socio-cultural backgrounds of the time, Trencansky (2001) is able to highlight the many potential allegories within the slasher film (such teenage transgression of neoliberal suburban values marked by the ‘transgressors’ in the film and the ascent to adult agency marked by the Final Girl triumphantly defeating her oppressor) and the analysis of the killer as being an allegory of rebellion gone wrong that is ‘othered’ by society (Trencansky, S., 2001: 68-70)

It should also be mentioned that her use of psychoanalysis itself holds some problems. In essentially trying to identify why it is that young white men are so invested in horror, Clover runs the risk of reducing her audience to a set of more or less fixed characteristics that further homogenizes her study (Tudor, A., 1997: 445). Instead of situation horror in a variety of different fields, and especially by little attention the socio-political climates and context of the period in which these films were made, Clover places a heavy influence on the inner workings of gender and spectatorship whilst largely ignoring any external factors that arguably have just as much impact(Tudor, A., 1997: 452). In the same vein that Clover critiques film theorists through imposing essentialist binaries on horror cinema, Clover runs the risk of reducing a very heterogeneous group to largely homogeneous characteristics. What then becomes interesting is the ways in horror and cinema spectatorship play out when one is to consider not only psychosocial factors that influence the genre and those who watch it, but the socio-political contexts they were made in as well.

As it stands, Clover’s seminal study of gender in horror movie stands as one of the most influential and cited works of the study of horror and spectatorship. Though not without its faults, the book is still able to convincingly argue the interplay and intersections of gender in horror and the broader implications it has on cinema spectatorship. Far from just another critique of horror gratuity, Clover’s book presents itself as an essential read for anyone even vaguely interested by the genre and especially those who study it.

 References:

Clover, C., 1992. Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. United States of America: Princeton University Press.

Trencansky, S. 2001. Final Girls and Terrible Youth: Transgression in 1980s Slasher Horror. Journal of Popular Film and Television. 29(2): 63-73

Tudor, A. 1997. WHY HORROR? THE PECULIAR PLEASURES OF A POPULAR GENRE.

Cultural Studies

. 11(3): 443-463

[cherryalt]

Beginning

Intro: Wednesday 05/06/19 - So I’ve been wanting to start a short journal about what I do, how I do it, and just document some things in regards to my life. The issue is I am notoriously known for starting something and never going ahead with the task at hand so, it really wouldn’t surprise me if I give this up after a week or so. Nevertheless I am going to do a beginning post, because why the f**k not never hurt to try something new. It’s currently cold, I’m drinking tea, and wondering how I should upload this cute selfie of myself onto instagram. By the time this post is done, that selfie will be up and... this whole sentence will be pointless :) In this post i’ll go through some pondering things, experiences, and also a bonus paragraph down the bottom :)

Podcast?: I’ve been going to gym for the past three weeks now, just to give myself that little bit of get up and go I really need and... it’s been going surprisingly well. I mean, haven’t been getting out of bed as early as I would like, but I have been getting to the gym and doing a decent amount of cardio. And while exercising I’ve been doing something I don’t normally do. Listen to podcasts, art podcasts in fact, and man - sometimes it really does give me the drive to keep pushing through some of the stuff I’m facing every day. Just hearing some of the misery and hardships that other artists face, is really helping me provide a positive outlook on my day. Especially with the traumatic experience of my last *creative* job, causing me to dive into an existential depression. We live in such a visual culture because of social media applications, where all this status is represented by high living, beauty, and large numbers; and that this is what the actual representation of the artist is. Yet completely ignoring other factors and points which have more importance and significance over the work. And sometimes, so many people just forget having a laugh at all the serious wank that is produced today is more than often really how art should actually be received. And that’s a positive not a negative. I’ll link the references of what art podcasts I’ve been listening to down the bottom.

So this all got me to thinking... what if I did a podcast? Would it be engaging? Would people listen? Is my voice pleasing to the ear? Am I just copying my flatmate, or am I merely just inspired by him? These are all questions I’ve been thinking about, and also... am I as a person with feelings and opinions INTERESTING? ? ? I feel like to some extent I am, maybe, hopefully - is that self-centered to say? I just think I’m over the top, so, charisma I can supply. So I’ve kind of been mentally brainstorming some ideas around about what I could talk about, trending topics, the execution, the attraction - and I think I’m gonna take the dive. I’m inviting my friend Gen along, who I think would really help support the engagement and just keep the whole thing entertaining. Title idea - Shan & Gen Talk About Shiz. It’s a working progress.

Panic Attack: On other news, two nights ago I had the unfortunate experience of having a panic attack completely out of the blue which was definitely not fun. The whole weekend I had been feeling quite shit, some things just weren’t adding up, and for the whole time I was in the state of a bad mood. So before that, me and Gen had spent some time working on the creation of our *handmade* tote bags (which is going very slowly through trail and error). So after that, I came back home and did what I always do - hopped on the computer to do some work. I’m currently working for a small charity and *attempting* to design some motion graphics for them. So while I sat there at my computer looking at the screen, my head just became blank all of a sudden. I was very tired. Very tired. My breathing became slow and hard. The idea of bed wasn’t an option, I had to go to bed. So I slowly, walked up the stairs, jumped into bed, and put myself under the covers. I kept there in silence with my eyes open, for around twenty minutes. I truly believed I was lying. To then shorten things up, I knew I was in a bad place. I don’t know what caused it, how it happened, or why it was happening; but I knew I needed help. So I did what I always do in these situations - I called my mum up. I spoke with her for about an hour, doing breathing exercises and listened to her voice. I then sat up and started building a small nano-block figurine of a sexy bunny girl?? thanks japan. I messaged Gen to get some Valium, so she came over helped me out and just had some casual conversation with me. Thanks to drugs, I ended up falling asleep peacefully in the comfort of my sheets. Luckily the next day I woke up feeling a lil woozy, and a small headache - but recovered from my incident. 

Conclusion: I could write a whole lot more, but I think I’ll keep it short and sweet for now and leave those other topics for another day. This week has been a challenge one for me, and truthfully I feel every week for me is challenging all in different aspects. But it’s nice to know I’ve got people rely on, and come help me when I’m having an emergency. I think lately these downfalls all come to the factor that I am as a person creatively lost a bit. I did a degree which I don’t want to utilize, I had a job which I fucking hated, and the capitalist nature in which our society functions is depressing. So what does this mean for me? Well, I don’t know haha - but I don’t think it hurts to just keep living, trying out new avenues in creativity and just experiment with things. And whilst I’m not making any money off of these little projects, I’m gaining experience in new fields and most importantly having fun with it. Fingers crossed I won’t be receiving any future panic attacks, but *just* in case, I did go to the doctors and have gotten some good stuff for those emergency situations. So until next time, if you’ve made it this far thanks for being fab. I’ll post some cute things below. And if you did read this and enjoy it, please message me and let me know - will actually make my month lol.

Bonus:

PODCASTS:

- Abbi Jacobson, A Piece of Work  https://www.wnycstudios.org/shows/pieceofwork (love this, very fun chill and good vibes. Not too intense)

- Honor Eastly, Starving Artist https://starvingartistpodcast.com/ (so grounded, so real. Chill and fun, and hit some pretty cool points. Longer episodes though, so settle in)

- Jennifer Dasal, Art Curious http://www.artcuriouspodcast.com/artcuriouspodcast (some of these I’m so into I am like oh my god, yas yas. Some are a bit eh, boring. But really good to get into if you wanna learn more about art history!)

CURRENT READ:

- Omar Kholeif, Goodbye World! Looking at Art in the Digital Age https://www.amazon.com/Omar-Kholeif-Goodbye-Looking-Digital/dp/3956793099 (trying to get into digital art more as a style, really vibing this book. Good references too! Tad bit expensive though for a small book)

- Lars Martinson, Tonoharu https://www.amazon.com/Tonoharu-Part-One-Lars-Martinson/dp/0980102324 (I don’t know if I recommend this or not! It’s all about that white person living in Japan experience - so I feel if you picked this up and had no knowledge about the situation the whole book would come off as awkward or weird. But I really enjoyed it!)

CURRENT MUSIC:

- Nilufer Yanya, Miss Universe https://niluferyanya.bandcamp.com/album/miss-universe (I really dug this album, its like that digital anxiety themed pop album. which I am so in the mood for right now. It also gives me chill the xx vibes! I recommend)

OTHER:

Pic of me hi xoxo

My nanoblock bunny creation. Complete with cleavage.

[coreymichaelsmithson]

The Gecko

I dance when I paint.

I don’t mean this to sound like some kind of barfy New-Age metaphor; rest assured that I haven’t yet become the “I wear floral caftans and practice yoga and drink kale smoothies and shop at Whole Foods and the whole universe dances through me, rama-lama-ding-dong” version of myself. I mean to say that I dance in the actual sense of moving rhythmically as I wield my brush. There are good practical reasons for doing this … sometimes it’s important to rehearse a tricky stroke before committing it to canvas, so I trace in the air what I intend to do, and prepare myself in advance for the actual execution. Some strokes are so complex in their trajectory, twisting and turning on themselves like the coils of the small intestine, that I need to make a few practice tries first. I have to use my whole arm, from shoulder to fingertip, and on really long strokes, dozens of other muscle groups come into play. Add some music, a soupçon of dramatic flair, and voilà! Dancing. But there is another, weirder aspect to what I do with my body when I paint. When my painting is going well, when I’m really “in the zone”, it feels like I am physically manipulating the forces within the composition. And by “forces” I mean actual dynamic forces … like torque, shear, tension, compression, lift, drag, gravity. These can all be represented in two dimensions, but I like to diagram them out in four. So I’ll make a range of expressive motions, which may seem to any observer like the gestures of a conductor, or a sculptor, or a magician. I may push, pull, draw out, spin, wave, smudge, swirl, scrape, all without touching the canvas. This may go on for several minutes, until I’m satisfied that I know what needs to happen. Then, and only then, I’ll make my move.

Lately, all this dancing has drawn the attention of local wildlife.

The place where I’m staying, on the northeast coast of Florida, is surrounded by water: ponds, marshes, rivers, and estuaries. Herons and egrets flap overhead, and falcons perch on the live oaks. Snakes make an occasional appearance. Because of all the swampy green space nearby, the yard is overrun with skinks, anoles, whiptails, and geckos. Our studio space has four large picture windows, and a pair of sliding glass doors. Each window has a mesh screen. Sometimes, the smallest lizards will cling to these screens and just hang out for a while. They’re probably doing this to enjoy the ventilation and to scope out the yard … but it’s a cute, endearing behavior, and it makes me strangely happy to see them.

As I was working on a particularly challenging painting, dancing out my curlicues and whatnot, this one gecko scurried up the mesh of the nearest window, and parked himself right in the middle of my view. He kept turning his head this way and that, eyeballing my progress from various awkward angles. After a few minutes of this, he climbed down the screen, crossed a few inches of patio, and zipped back up to the top of a nearby lawn chair, which allowed him to see more directly into the window. I’m guessing it was my dancing that caught his eye. Maybe he couldn’t tell if I was a threat, a large predator lumbering about on the other side of the window. Maybe he thought I was a particularly gawky crane. But, at the time, it seemed like he was interested in watching what I was doing, for he stayed in place a long time, tilting his head back and forth to look at either me or my canvas.

This may sound absurd, but I must tell you why the interest of this gecko filled me with such profound sense of validation. But in order to do so, I’ll have to plunge into a very dark place for a while, so that I may impart some important contextual information. Bear in mind that I am saying this all quite matter-of-factly, while calmly sipping my tea, without a lot of handwringing or lip-quivering or Sturm und Drang, so please don’t panic as you read. What follows is not meant to worry you, nor am I merely bemoaning my bad fortune … rather, I wish to paint this oddly joyful experience in a fuller, more revealing light. So bear with me for a moment, through a few paragraphs of heavy weather, and I promise that we’ll eventually find our way to a happy ending, the kind you’ve come to expect from my stories.

The fact is, I’m in trouble. Real trouble.

My bank account is now five hundred dollars in the red, with more automatic bill deductions coming in every week. My phone’s been shut off for non-payment. Pamela’s WA tabs have expired, so I can’t legally drive her … as a result, her battery’s gone dead, and she’s had unused fuel sitting in her lines for three months, which may lead to further complications. My laptop and smartphone are beginning to show signs of wear and tear, and I can’t afford to replace either. The big picture gets worse the more I look at it. I have over $160,000 in student loan debt, $9,000 in New York State tax debt, and somewhere around $50,000 in IRS debt. My bank account is likely to be seized again any day now. Because I haven’t been able to make even the bare minimum on previously established payment plans, and because I don’t have much freelance income, I have no means of negotiating for further relief. Every former address has piles of unopened mail from debt collectors. Bankruptcy will not dissolve either my scholastic or tax liabilities. Furthermore, because of my loan defaults, I cannot access my college transcripts to apply for teaching positions or degree-dependent jobs. And I’m too old and weird to be an attractive candidate for most of those appointments anyway. I have no health insurance, and can’t afford even sliding scale care to address my three broken teeth, lifelong asthma, and untreated severe depression. Free clinics cannot help with the severity of my dental and mental issues.

In short, things may seem a little bleak at present, down here in the Sunshine State. But as I said, there is a silver lining to all this … so hang tight, and in a little while I’ll lift us back up into the land of dancing and portent reptiles.

Now, I’m sure that some of you are already rolling your eyes and saying, “Well, you made your bed … quit whining and get a real job.” This seems to be the go-to response when artists don’t perform well in a capitalist society, and many people have already said as much, directly to me or among themselves. The thing is, my résumé is already full of “real jobs”: sanitation, construction, moving, disaster services, dishwashing, deliveries, landscaping, corporate video editing, darkroom printing, customer service, telemarketing, proofreading, design, teaching, consulting. I’ve worked in a car factory, a soup factory, a vineyard, a children’s hospital, a bookstore, a college library, a marketing agency, an art supply store, two publishers, five photo labs, and serviced more industries than I can even remember. I’ve designed menus and logos and show posters, I’ve bartended and filled dumpsters and hauled furniture and maintained spreadsheets. I’ve scrubbed soot off of ruined antiques, painted stripes on wastebaskets, taken dictation from lawyers, torn down drywall, pulled weeds, yanked nails, bottled whiskey, loaded ceramic tile, and demolished office cubicles. I even once helped raise a circus tent. I’ve kissed plenty of asses, both in the literal and figurative senses, for ridiculously low sums of money. I’ve done plenty of the icky stuff that nobody wants to do.

But my work ethic, skill, and earnestness simply aren’t paying off ... yet.

This is not an unusual predicament for people like me, though. The kind of jobs that folks expect me to have, based on my education and capabilities, won’t even grant me an interview, no matter how carefully I tailor my cover letter and CV, no matter how much positive energy and enthusiasm and hope I muster for the application. I’ve been completely and conscientiously sober for nearly seven years now, but even that level of commitment and self-care hasn’t done anything to change my financial situation, which has reached an all-time nadir. I’ve learned that “rock bottom” is an illusion … at the bottom of the well you’ll sometimes find not bedrock but quicksand and bobbing turds.

The inevitable question to ask, of course, is whether or not I am bringing all of this on myself. I’m sure some of you insist that I have this masochistic / self-destructive narrative that I’m adhering to, some kind of badly warped Van Gogh complex. You may feel that I remain impoverished only because of my own stubbornness, self-pity, delusions of grandeur, sloth, or outright stupidity. Some of you probably feel that I keep failing because I never apply myself properly, that I just don’t try hard enough, that I should love myself more, that all I need is a good full-time job with health insurance. You may have already thrown up your hands in frustration. I don’t begrudge you your opinion or your irritation … but to all of these things, I can only say, “I’m doing my best with what I’ve got.”

Throughout my career, I’ve been very forthright about my struggle with living … not because I am fishing for sympathy or solutions, but because I’ve come to believe that sharing such challenges openly is an essential part of my purpose as an artist. I am describing my state of crisis not to alarm you, or even to cry for help, but simply to reveal the full dimensions of my situation. I also hope that by explaining my fears and doubts I may help you to alleviate some anxiety of your own … for there is no relief quite like that of fellowship. As some of closest friends know, I have been on the precipice for my entire adulthood, and have come close many times to losing my grip altogether. Many of you can relate. Despite these troubles, though, I’ve clung stubbornly to existence, even when my fingertips are slipping on the beveled edge, just so that I could occasionally arrive at a moment like the one I had today with the gecko … moments when my life’s work seems to reveal its actual shape, when I can feel the ongoing dance of the world move through my fingers, when I am reminded that the long meandering road itself is the whole point. All those shitty jobs and sleepless nights were a vital part of the composition. They all brought me here, collectively, to this one instant, when I was dancing with a brush in my hand and a lizard was watching me from the window, a moment when everything changed.

Art is the alchemy that transforms any hardship into gold.

I hope you’ll come to understand what I mean when I say, right now, that it feels like as if I’ve inadvertently engineered my entire life just so that my passion might catch the eye of a wandering gecko.

I keep working because there is more work to be done. I keep fighting to live because I believe that I have an important message to deliver, and that I cannot rest until it is safely received. I don’t yet know what this message is, or where it comes from, or why it has been placed in my clumsy hands … but I feel burdened with the responsibility of lasting long enough to relay it. Judy Garland once told me the secret of immortality, and now a gecko is telling me the secret of artistic success.

So I am here to tell you about a gecko who was watching me paint.

I am here to tell you about a gecko who is now forever splayed on the window mesh of my mind, a gecko who stares at me with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as I struggle to keep my brush moving, as I desperately dance away from the reality of ruin, as I choose one more day of making art over surrendering to doom. I am here to tell you that this gecko is looking sideways at my canvas, with his googly roving eye, and he seems quite pleased with my output. I am here to tell you that this gecko has become my biggest fan; if I achieve nothing else in my career I’ve at least entertained one living creature with my artistry.

I am here to tell you that the gecko is delivering a message through me to you … on behalf of all the artists who have ever lived and died in total obscurity, all the forgotten and abandoned and hopeless creators who valued experiences more than fiscal solvency, those who saw many of the world’s most wonderful riches despite having no money or fame or toothpaste. My friend the gecko is saying to us, you and I, that it’s all been worth it. Every flawed and stupid choice we’ve made has been the right one, as long as each of us keeps trying our best to write a compelling poem with our life story. The gecko is telling us, you and me both, that everything’s going to be okay. He says that no effort is wasted, that no bravery goes completely unnoticed, that no talent is ever squandered if it has brought comfort or amusement or a moment of beauty to others. He says that we won’t be remembered for our poverty, but we will be remembered for our grace under duress. The gecko is assuring us that no sincere artist is a failure. The gecko believes in you and me, just as I believe in you and me. In fact, the gecko just whispered to me now that you’re the richest person he’s ever seen, and that your dance moves are awesome. The gecko told me to tell you to keep dancing, no matter what, for as long as you can, and to never give up on your gifts, which are plentiful and splendid and rare. He says he admires your brilliance, and your stamina, and your coordination. He says that he can see the whole world dancing in your hands.

[jenniferduartezhdk-blog]

Week 9. Accelerationism

Guest lecture: Jean-Baptiste Labrune

Readings:

Mark Fisher. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative ? Zero Books, 2009 

Sadie Plant. Zeroes + ones: digital women and the new technoculture. Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, 1997

Robin Mackay. Armen Avessian. #Accelerate: The Accelerationist Reader. Urbanomic 2014 / MIT press 2019. 

CAPITALIST REALISM 

In Capitalism Realism, Mark Fisher quotes "it is easier to imagine an end to the world than an end to capitalism," attributed to both Fredric Jameson and Slavoj Žižek, as the essence of capitalist realism. Fisher argues that the term "capitalist realism" best describes the current global political situation, which lacks visible alternatives to the capitalist system. Indeed, we live in a society where it seems to be no other choice than capitalism and thinking in alternatives looks like an impossible mission of redefining the world we live in, again from zero. In Fisher’s words: “not only is capitalism the only viable political and economic system, but also it is now impossible even to imagine a coherent alternative to it.” Fisher argues that capitalist realism has propagated a ‘business ontology’ which concludes that everything should be run as a business including education and healthcare. The Lobby of Pharma industry in Switzerland I recently have been reading some articles about the privatization of health systems in some countries and the way this can impact the way we treat ourselves Vs. the grow of the DIY medicine and self-hacked treatments. Switzerland has one of the most highly-developed systems of democracy in the world. But the influence of pressure groups on political life is hardly regulated and politicians are concerned that private business is getting too close with parliament. This relation between lobbies and politics can be justified by the fact that many of the members seating in the Swiss parliament are part-time politicians, who the rest of the time hold regular jobs related with private industry beside their political activity, supporting the interests of companies they work for or where they sit on corporate boards. The influence of lobbies in the Swiss political system is particularly evident in the field of Health, once almost all members of the health committees in both chambers are linked to health insurers or pharmaceutical companies. However, a certain number also work for unions or other associations (hospitals, medical associations or patient groups), providing a counterweight to business interests. Furthermore, the pharma industry, which has been present in Switzerland for almost 150 years, according to Swiss reports , represented almost 42% of the total value of all Swiss exports in the year of 2016. If combined with the chemicals industry, together they are responsible for almost half of Switzerland exportations, which means that the country is therefore increasingly dependent on multinationals like Novartis, Roche and Merck Serono, their industrial activities and the jobs they provide. The divergent interests represented in parliament have blocked reforms of the health insurance system for years, while health insurance premiums go up annually. The price of these close ties between some parliamentarians and business lobbies could be the large sections of the population whose interests are underrepresented - consumers, insurance holders or patients. This is for me a glaring example of capitalism with the aggravating factor that this implies directly with our health and access to it. In a near future, in which DIY medicine can take a bigger place in our lives by giving us back the control of our health and changing the relation we have with our own body, the weight and power of the Pharma Lobby can be slowed down and distributed to the citizens. It doesn’t mean that it will be the end of the capitalism, but it can certainly change our access to treatment and also give us the freedom of deciding of what works the best for each one, without having the pressure of taking drugs imposed by big pharmaceutic groups markets. 

DIGITAL WOMEN AND THE NEW TECHNOCULTURE 

Since humans started creating machines, the dialectic between masters and slaves started existing. “We design these machines, and we have the ability to design them as our masters, or our partners, or our slaves”, said John Markoff in his book Machines of Loving grace. At first humans started inventing new technologies to make their lives easier, to be able to produce faster and with more precision. With technological improvements machines were able to perform tasks for us with no need of human intervention. They became “intelligent”. Already in 1807, in The Phenomenology of Spirit, written by the philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, a passage describes the master/ slave dialectic, in which Hegel argues, among other things, that holding a slave dehumanizes the master. Without knowing it, Hegel was describing 200 years ago, what can be our relationship with machines. In fact, humans started being the masters of their slave machines, but now we live with the anxiety that they might have come to a point in which they seem to surpass and be able to replace us. Who is the master now? In the chapter “learning curves” it seems clear that the dialectic Master/slave has not only existed between Men and machines but between men and women as well. “Women had functioned as tools and instruments, bits, parts and commodities to be bought and sold and given away. Fetching, carrying, and bearing the children, passing the genes down the family tree: they were treated as reproductive technologies and domestic appliances (…)” [The passage of the text “Digital Women and the New Technoculture” off course speaks to me not only because I am a woman, but also because I am a mother, a wife and for some time I was an Architect woman working in a field of men. It also resonates to me for 2 other personal and genealogical reasons… -When I was a teenager my mother told me how my grand-mother passed away: After her second child was born in the late 60’s, doctors alerted her to the fact that due to some health conditions, she should not have another baby because chances were high that complications could appear. However, her husband, moved by the money of social allocations, wanted to have more and she died during the labor of their 3rd child. As said in the text, women and their bodies are seen as infrastructure for reproduction and not recognized as subjects. -When my mother in law and her first husband tried for years to have a child without success it become clear to them and for the society of that time in a small (and not well informed about the subject of infertility) town that if after all these years there was still no baby in her belly than it was because she could not bear children, never was the man putting in question. She accepted that condition and carried that “guilt” during all that time, until years later, after her first husband died and she married again with another man, she got pregnant at the age of 46.] These two stories have always shocked me because they are so close to me, but I always thought that our society and culture had evolved and perhaps I also naively thought that this would happen less in metropolitan cities or in higher education contexts. But the truth is that, decades later the roots of this sexist society remains the same in any kind of context. Sexism and oppression did not begin with capitalism, but it has certainly been exacerbated by it, and sexism helps uphold capitalism. Such a capitalist system has led to unprecedented levels of inequality and the consolidation of wealth in the hands of a few (mostly men). Feminism has historically been about eradicating and opposing inequality. Feminism is thus incompatible with capitalism, as this is a system that compounds and exacerbates such inequality and requires inequality for it to thrive and function effectively – a system made of masters and slaves.

[theherblifeblog]

Effects of Magic Mushrooms Retreats Will Last Longer Than the Trend

Nicolle Hodges

“It seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Aubrey Lang, 26, tells me over the phone. In January 2020, the farmer (and soon to be lawyer) attended Rise Wellness Retreat -- a psilocybin microdose retreat in Jamaica -- which, unbeknownst to him at the time, would have a positive, long-term impact on his romantic relationship.

Interest in psilocybin—a naturally occurring compound in "magic mushrooms" or psychedelic mushrooms that was first synthesized by Albert Hofmann in the late 1950s—is starting to seep into mainstream dialogue, with major publications like Forbes and The New York Times reporting on its potential benefits; an uptick in clinical trials with promising results; venture capitalists looking to invest in the next big thing; even Gwyneth Paltrow’s new Netflix show, The Goop Lab, dedicating its first episode, “The Healing Trip” to exploring the therapeutic use of psychedelic drugs. “Retreats, to me, represent a groundbreaking milestone shift in the global consciousness towards the use of mushrooms as therapy,” says Lang. “It really opened my eyes to a whole other dimension of therapeutic application.” 

The effects of psilocybin include euphoria, perception changes, an altered sense of time, and spiritual experiences. When combined with psychotherapy, one recent study supports claims that it can effectively treat depression and anxiety years after taking the drug. In the 1960s, psilocybin research boomed with more than 1,000 studies published on its effects, and then abruptly halted when recreational use got out of hand a decade later. Psilocybin and other psychedelics were classified as Schedule 1 (the same drug status as heroin), and it’s been a slow increase in acceptance since the late 1990s. As more studies explore the use of psychedelics for mental health and medical purposes, we’re now experiencing something called “the shroom boom,” (first reported in 2018) with plenty of new investment opportunities on the horizon for the projected $50 billion “mushroom market.”

But Lang wasn’t thinking about any of that while sitting by the ocean just steps from the villa where he had recently ingested a macro-dose of magic mushrooms. (Where a microdose is considered a “glow” in that you will feel something that is barely perceptible and alights your senses, a macro-dose (or larger) are 1+ grams of dried mushrooms which may cause a psychedelic experience, disorientation, profound introspection, and intense emotional experiences).  

“It made everything new again and it broke me out of the set ways of looking and labeling everything in my life by shining a new light on it,” says Lang. “With the support of the whole Rise team, it was a great opportunity to reflect on myself and life.”

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Did you know dreaming can recharge your creativity? Your brain problem solves during dreams, and mimics the creative, waking thought process. Who knew!

A post shared by Rise Wellness Retreat (@risewellnessretreat) on Apr 8, 2020 at 5:25pm PDT

For Jacqueline Chambers, founder of fashion and travel blog TGIF, she deliberately went on the trip without any expectations and was surprised by what she found. “I was like, ‘will we be tripping balls all day?’ But no, we dug deep into the seeds that society has planted in us, most of them not based on truth, and checked in with ourselves and each other to uncover our own truths,” she says. “I went with my friend to have fun but I got so much more out of it. I had my dog since I was 17 and just had to put her down, and went through another shitty breakup. I didn't realize that pain was still there, but when it came up, I was able to set it down and be free.”

The retreat had a ‘choose your own adventure’ itinerary that balanced group activities, classes (yoga, aquatics, meditation, and Natural Movement), educational workshops, therapeutic shiatsu treatments, trail hiking, art-making, and leisure time.

“Being in such a beautiful place like Jamaica, you felt connected with the world again, and through that, you learned how to be of service to others,” she says.

For Lang, his love life shifted because of those same realizations—and an earthquake. 

“It was our last day in Jamaica,” he says, “and I remember the pool suddenly looked like a wave pool.”

News spread around the world that a magnitude 7.7 earthquake had struck off the coast of Jamaica, and was felt as far away as Miami. The Washington Post and CNN reported that it was one of the strongest earthquakes on record in the Caribbean. Jamaica, however, doesn’t usually suffer from natural disasters and there was no damage done to the island. But at the time and from the outside, the situation looked much worse than it was.  

“I messaged my girlfriend telling her that I was OK, but then my phone died so I didn’t respond to her for hours,” he says. “She felt a deep sense of panic at the idea of losing me, and when she went to read a book to distract herself, the chapter was titled, ‘Death.’” 

When we talk about the experiences that change us, specifically through psychedelics, rarely do we hear about the impact it has on the lives that orbit our own. For Lang and his girlfriend, it was the realization that, had he not attended Rise Wellness Retreat, their love for one another might not have shifted into focus. 

“We used to let little things like minor disagreements ruin our day, or the week or month. It would build into this negative downward spiral, but now we're building in an upward spiral,” he says. “It took us having to face losing each other in order for us to really appreciate one another.”

And that, he says, speaks to the entirety of the psychedelic experience. To surrender and let go, to “zoom out” from your life and worries, can offer a new and important perspective that is not always available in our daily lives. 

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When it comes to macrodosing (doses of 1+ grams of dried mushrooms that may cause disorientation, profound introspection, and intense emotional experiences) we work in smaller groups.⁣ ⁣ Our macro facilitators have years of experience in dosing and creating a safe environment and vibes. Feeling supported from the beginning of a psychedelic trip to the end, whether micro- or macrodosing is an important part of the full experience. ⁣ Read more about Rise’s commitment to safety, preparation, and integration — whether you’re experiencing magic mushrooms for the first time or the hundredth [link in bio]

A post shared by Rise Wellness Retreat (@risewellnessretreat) on Feb 25, 2020 at 7:47pm PST

“When I take a psychedelic, I have to let go of my preconceived conceptions of who I am. It’s this idea that you have to lose yourself to find yourself. To me, that means living from a trusting place, being comfortable with the unknown, being present and in the moment, not needing to analyze and conceptualize everything, and trusting that everything will be okay. That’s where peace comes from.”

When Chambers returned home, familiarity bred some habitual (and expected) contempt. “If only I could be at a beach in Jamaica all day,” she laughs over the phone. “But bad stuff would still happen there, so it’s not about constantly changing your scenery, it’s about changing yourself.”

She says the trip inspired her to do more research into spiritual and natural healing, and that having a follow-up with Robin Banister, Rise’s on-site therapist and facilitator, really helped the experiences from the retreat stick with her, even when daily stresses started to creep in. “The Rise team works with everyone from veterans who have had to carry bodies with bullets flying around, to people with serious trauma, to me, someone who had to put their dog down,” she says. “People should know it’s a safe place for all types of healing. It’s structured, organized, and well thought out. There isn’t a single detail you will have to worry about.” 

[neroiv]

Review: "Backstory" by Joschka Laukeninks

https://vimeo.com/245687147

The short film "Backstory" by Joschka Laukeninks shows the life of ana anonymous protagonist. We follow him from his first memories, watching him grow up, go through his parten's divorce, undergo adolescence, fall in love, build a career, start a family, lose his wife and child in an accident, remarry, get a divorce, grow old and eventually die. The film employs a second-person narrator and tells the story in a rather abstract manner turning the protagonist into a kind of every-man and maximizing the viewers opportunities to identify with the story. It is this generic way of storytelling that makes the film so interesting as it comes surprisingly close to - as will be shown in the following paragraphs - a kind of master-narrative of life in contemporary (late-capitalist or post-modern) society.

The film touches upon a number of archetypal experiences that most human beings come across during their lifetime: growing up, loosening the bond with one's parents, first sexual experiences, break-ups, friendships, falling in love, becoming a parent, losing loved ones, aging and dying. These are the great themes of human existence that most people can relate to and feel touched by. However, several details of the story reflect aspects characteristic for our day and age. This text will explore these aspects to show how they mirror the contemporary construction of identity which is - as this text argues - in crisis.

A prototypical protagonist

As part of the aforementioned abstraction, the protagonist is shown in little detail. For example his face isn't shown throughout most of the film and we learn little that might identify him and set him apart from the viewer like his place of birth or his personal interests and opinions. However, the protagonist is clearly shown to be male, white, relatively wealthy, heterosexual, able-bodied etc. So while the film is clearly designed to make as many people as possible relate to it, a whole list of social groups is excluded from identifying with the protagonist, namely women, poor people, members of the LGBTQUIA-community, people with disabilities, people who are not neurotypical, people who are not white and people who have migrated. The exclusion of these identities is not coincidental and draws a clear image of what is thought to be the standard protagonist of our time. Sadly, while history provides us with a great repertoire of stories told from the perspective of rich, heterosexual white men, the film is another missed opportunity to give a stage to the voices that are traditionally overheard. Instead, it reifies yet again a notion of normalcy rendering the aforementioned alternatives as mere deviations.

The loss of the nuclear family

The first incident characterizing the problems of our time is when the protagonist is no longer able to live up to the stereotype of the "happy childhood" because of his parent's divorce. This is made explicit by the narrator who mentions that on his 6th birthday, everything is still as it's supposed to be, right before the separation. This notion of a normal/happy family is one aspect of the story that reflects the problems of contemporary society since the nuclear family has only existed as the standard script when it comes to how people plan on spending their lives. The specificity to a certain sociohistorical setting is however not made apparent in the film. Still, it is crucial to understanding the impact the divorce has on the protagonist. The reduction of people's social framework of reference to the nuclear family - even though it is mostly ahistorically staged as the universal standard - is a relatively new phenomenon and has left people vulnerable because of the overall scarcity of other significant relationships. This vulnerability is reflected in the trauma of the breakup of the father-mother-child trinity that rising divorce-rates have brought about. The overwhelming significance of this constellation is partly due to the meaning of romantic love in the late-capitalist society which will be addressed later on in the text.

Alienated labour

The protagonist's career is mentioned several times throughout the film but always in a completely unenthusiastic manner. The viewer never learns what it is that the protagonist does professionally, just that it is a relatively well paying office job. This is symptomatic if the phenomenon of alienated labour because it suggests that work doesn't mean anything to the protagonist accept something that is necessary in order to build a successful life and/or make a living. The mentioning of work is usually associated with expressions of meaninglessness, emptiness and routine. Apparently, the protagonist has entirely given up any hope to invest his manpower in something that he finds meaningful or fulfilling or that serves a purpose other than earning money and achieving success on a professional level.

Love at first sight

When the protagonist meets his new wife, the two of them are shown in the middle of a raging party quietly staring at each other before the first words even have been exchanged. The narrator immediately suggests that this is "her" (alluding to the trope of "love at first sight" or "the one true love"). There is no doubt, no anxiety, no reconciliation of differences, none of it. This relationship goes on to become the main point of crystallization that provides meaning for the protagonist's existence. While prior, less committed sexual encounters have left him with feelings of frustration and emptiness, his marriage provides him with a feeling of purpose and direction. This is highly representatives for contemporary self-narratives. With the social frame of reference reduced to a minimum, friendships and relationships becoming more and more short-lived, family-bonds loosening, work-relationships progressively growing more instrumental and overall lifestyles becoming increasingly anonymous, it is left to bilateral romantic love to provide people with all the recognition as valuable, unique human beings that they need.

The death of his wife and child is the dramatic high-point of the film and fully reveals the meaning of romantic love for the life of the protagonist, as it is said that after their loss he is alone again. Throughout the rest of the story he never seems to fully recover. The emotionally distant way in which his second marriage is described is particularly noteworthy. The viewer never learns about why this later relationship does not fill the whole that the traumatic event has left behind - possibly it is merely because he is so deeply wounded that he finds himself unable to open up again - but seen in the context of the entire story that this is most likely meant to entertain the trope of the "one true love". The meaninglessness of the protagonists later life implies that his role as a partner is more integral to his identity and construction of meaning than his role as a son, friend, professional and even as a father. Especially the later is interesting because the film dedicates surprisingly little time to portray his relationship with his child (there is definitely a gender-dimension here to be explored). Furthermore, possible alternative sources of meaning such as standing up for one's convictions, working for a greater good, pursuing intellectual or artistic goals etc. are never alluded to in the movie so that, when his wife dies, the protagonist is left with an empty existence and nothing to fall back on. This notion is reinforced in the films final moments when the protagonist's reminiscence over the life he has lived closes in to focus on his wife and the way she "always looked at him". In fact, she also spent her final moments - lying on the pavement bleeding all over - turning to him and their relationship as a primary source of reference for her existence instead of screaming in agony, trying to see whether her child was still alive or just panicking. Their eyes meeting across the devastating sight of the accident is the emotional money-shot of the story.

Absence of Spirituality

The protagonists inability to see himself as part of something bigger and drawing a sense of purpose from his commitment to his convictions, political or artistic work etc. is yet again shown in the very end when the narrator mentions that the protagonist has only a few more seconds before he is gone and than the film cuts to a black screen. There's no tacky gate of heaven, no light in the end of a tunnel, nothing. This reflects the current zeitgeist, characterized by the decreasing meaning of spirituality and religiosity. People's way of imagining their existence is marked by the very absence of any location of one's own existence within a greater religious framework.

Conclusion - the lack of meaning in postmodern society

Illustrated by the various issues discussed in this text, what becomes apparent is the protagonist's overall failure to construct meaning in his life - or to be precis, find a way to narrate his life in a way that provides meaning. While the film arguably comes surprisingly close to becoming an archetypal master-narrative reflecting the contemporary mainstream-discourse on human existence, this crisis can be seen as symptomatic for our day and age. Namely it illustrates critical characteristics of self-narration in a post-modern society such as individualism (the rejection of seeing one's existence within a greater context), lack of direction (no overarching idea on how to set up one's life after the great ideologies have lost their credibility, be it in the realm of politics, religion or tradition), scepticism about one's own agency in life and reliance on ready-made fragments of narration. All these combined show that it has become close to impossible to construct a sense of meaning and purpose in life for the protagonist as well as the audience. Taking into account how the film has been celebrated as a brilliant piece of art, a great piece of wisdom and deeply touching, it is surprising that it does hardly anything but reconstruct a status quo while reproducing a narrative that has nothing left to offer.

[theliterateape]

You Never Know What’s Coming: A Curious Case

By Don Hall

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” — Eric Roth

It's nearly 2018. The page has turned. What are you going to do with it?

Not long ago, in the fall, I realized I had watched most of David Fincher's films multiple times but had only seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button once. While I'm not necessarily a completest by nature (the music of The Beatles, Clifford Brown, and John Williams being exceptions) I decided it was high time to revisit the tale of a man living life in reverse.

Watching it was a slap in the head that was soon accompanied by Star Wars: The Last Jedi (you can read my thoughts on the significance of that film here). I often find that movies have that effect on me. Terry Gilliam’s The Fisher King is a standard for me when things aren’t going well in my life. I can identify with certain — or all — of the characters, and it places my own road in bas relief allowing me to see things from multiple angles.

Well, things are going quite well in life so it isn’t time for Jack and Perry. Things are in flux this past year and, as it turns out, the tale of Benjamin Button remarkably did the trick. 

"You never know what's coming."

It's the common phrase used by Button and it is his bizarre circumstances that open him up to meeting each of life's curveballs with such calm and grace. Calm and grace have not been hallmarks of my existence and so I tend to envy them. I also find the ability to simply listen without offering my two cents an enviable quality I lack.

I envy these qualities (or talents or skills) but they are simply not in my specific set of tools. This is not to indicate that these are not skills I can and should develop; merely that the muscles in these areas are weak and wholly underused. How does one become more graceful? Practice, I suppose.

"There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it."

2017 was an anxious year for most of us, myself included. I left a solid gig after a decade and watched as my replacement (and my former assistant) effectively eliminated everything I had built in that time. It has stung a bit to see the absence of legacy events I created and fostered over that decade but as the year unfolded, it became less and less important. 

I landed solidly, with a number of freelance opportunities right out of the gate, and floated through on that and my severance. I got creative in ways I hadn't been in some time. While in a DIY sort of way, I’ve become quite the podcaster. I put out a book of word jazz and will soon be self-publishing a book of “I Believes...” This publication started the journey to becoming a sustainable and badass little enterprise and my partnership with David Himmel has been a great source of fun.

But it was anxious nonetheless.

With Trump in office and a quarter of the country losing their minds in blind hatred of him without a clear view of exactly what he represents (Chaos and Obfuscation), with more natural disasters and white men committing mass murder than in any year I can recall, with #MeToo scorching the foundations of a patriarchal system of abuse, anxiety has become a societal default setting.

The fall has been a bit fallow in the moneymaking department (turns out the October–December months are always a bit thin for freelancers) and that creates some dysphoria as well.

"I hope you make the best of it."

As the year begins, I wonder about this. Have I been making the best of it? I'm a generally optimistic cat and certainly focused most of the time on getting things done (whatever those things happen to be) so I suppose I have in some respects.

On the other hand, I've become a bit more misanthropic than I was, in part because when you have no scratch to spare and no regular job to get to, home is the easiest place to be. Squirreling up in the comforts of home is also a reasonable result of my experiences in the past two years in terms of trusting those around me.

As I reflect upon both films I understand that one of the essential questions asked by both is both basic and uniquely human. What is my place in all this? Starting all over again requires courage for certain but a direction is helpful, too.

I know that, at 51-approaching-52, I'm far from over. I mean, at least I hope I am — from the landscape, lots of white dudes in their fifties are ceasing to exist in the corporeal vista. Lots to do before the coffin lid clamps down. But what direction on the road do I take? The tyranny of options (a favorite phrase of my brilliant wife) is a bit overwhelming. This isn't the simple-minded pursuit of resolutions — I generally find those exercises to be futility defined — but rather a want for specificity in where I want to be, who I can be, in the coming year. Given that America is a place of individuals, I believe it is our individual choices of who and what direction that will push us into better waters.

The metaphor that comes to mind is that of the Great Ship of America trying to change course en route to remedy the travesties of racism, sexism and classism so baked into the centuries-long navigation. Once under way in a specific direction, course changes require more fuel than continuing in that straight line of White Male Capitalist dominated trajectory.

I also know that, like Luke Skywalker, my time in the sunlight as Life's Protagonist is over. The story of society's ever-changing nature is no longer my story but the narrative of those younger and with more stake in things than I. Not content to sit on an island far, far away from everyone and everything, navigating my exact position in the melee of discourse will be a task for my fifties.

The intersection of Benjamin Button and The Last Jedi is that of truly taking a look at the road I’ve been on to this point and seeing how much more there is to come yet still acknowledging a more background role in the affairs of the resistance. 

I’ve been doing some extra work in Chicago’s thriving television and film scene (thanks in no small part to Vincent Truman) and I’ve noticed that some of those in that specific work really want to be on camera — they want to be seen on television and push themselves to the foreground every opportunity they can. I prefer to be a background artist to the other background artists — being seen on television is fun but hardly the point. The Luke Skywalker revelation indicates that that is my place in life as well. 

“I hope you have the courage to start all over again.“ 

I’m not convinced starting all over again requires too much courage. Does it take courage to dog paddle your ass off when you get tossed overboard or is it merely the instinct to survive? If only to keep one’s head above water, starting all over is a process of will over choice. The choice comes in recognizing one’s place in the game and moving in a specific direction toward land or another craft. Anything outside of those choices is equal to simply thrashing around until the steam is run out and the limbs can no longer sustain the paddling.

It’s true, I never know what’s coming. I wrote a piece a while back that has since been revisited time and time again and it closes with the realization that I have no fucking idea where I’ll be in five years. The hindsight of a Benjamin Button lens, looking at where I was five years ago and the many victories and losses that came leave me rudderless to explain how I am where I am and who I am today. It isn’t a spec different in looking at the next five years.

I can hope, though, and check in to see if I’m proud of my life. 

On that level, so far, so good.

[nicktungle]

Path [cont’d]

Blessings upon blessings, I can’t seem to keep up. Everything is I “can’t” this or that. Why do we think that way? Why is my mind specifically so wired to have the perspectives of can’t’s and won’t’s with the inability to process positivity when they slide up my stream? Anyways. I am trying to process all these things as they come and I believe that my vessel, my threshold, is constantly being changed, altered, tested--that is why we say “can’t.” Which is beautiful in itself with a little hint of somberness.  As I’ve mentioned before, I have been on a spiritual journey. The end goal? Who really knows, however, I feel as if the universe is constantly pushing me toward this path. No longer am I cautiously treading through this metaphorical tunnel with the light at the end of the tunnel. Rather, I am my light; no longer at a stride to escape, I am slowly pacing with the ability to see the things--blessings, curses, inanimate objects within arms-length radius. To my left and right are my tools, behind me are the lessons learned, and in front of me--the rest of the path needed to be un/covered. One consistent theme, perhaps I may also be looking too much into it, or perhaps not. Infinite signs are given to us on the daily, it is only up to us to see the message and decipher its meaning, or to simply allow them to pass and not think twice about. What I am trying to say is that what I have chosen to understand about this path are these few instances that I may or may not be reading too deeply into. Enough with the vague dialogues, here are the events that I am going to list and continue to add to as the rest of this path unfolds. Signs of the universe nudging me onto my spiritual journey: 1. Aligning myself with myself allowed the universe to play its role and take over without any of my [direct] influence (subjective; by wavelengths) and pushed me into a world of spirituality to be experienced in 21 days--getting to know myself, my role in mother nature’s world, and the thresholds constrained by years of societal conditioning to be questioned and surpassed.

2. Through this experience, my wavelength crossed paths with meeting Vence. My homie, my spiritual brother, the person who had knowledge of this unexplainable feeling I’ve always had but to put into concrete terms and lessons to be learned and expressed. A week spent with Vence and Dean truly pushing each other to our limits and reaching a few of the highest peaks in California with little-to-no sleep and not only striding through them, but also taking moments, days, weeks to truly reflect upon each mountain and their effects on us physically, mentally, and spiritually. What did each of them mean to us? That week is probably one of my favorite weeks in my entire life. The duration of each climb building my heart and mind with so much energy and to be dispersed at each peak, whether through sweat, deep breaths inward and out, and/or tears. I’m not ashamed to cry at a mountain top. I’m not ashamed to cry tears of joy anywhere for that matter anymore. This was what it felt to truly feel.

3. Following these days, I was inspired once again by my spiritual brother to revisit The Alchemist. Nights spent reflecting upon our experiences, we constantly came back to figure out the goal: what is our purpose here? What is your personal legend? I think it is extremely important to once in a while revisit the things that have once inspired us because as we grow, so does our perspectives. With each visit, we notice other meanings within the same words we’ve read multiple times that take on different meanings, new perspectives that become relevant to who we are today, tomorrow, whenever and whatever it is that we were/are searching for in that moment. 4. Upon finishing The Alchemist, I was also recommended Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. The story of a man’s journey through “finding” enlightenment within the boundaries of mankind and our relationship with ego, greed, hunger, temptation. I brushed off the recommendation because I was still allowing Santiago’s story to set in. However, a few months later, another friend completely unexpected and unrelated once again nudged me to read the story of Siddhartha. So I did. And I’m glad I read it when I read it because only then was it that much more relevant to my days.

5. On a late-night conversation with my loving mom, I expressed to her the issues that I was dealing with--experiences no mother would want to hear from their child--depression, anxiety, hopelessness, distant. She hugged me tenderly. My eyes swelled with tears. She told me she too once felt the feelings I described. I love her, with all of my being, all of my soul, all of my energy beyond this physical plane. Upon completing Siddhartha, my mother summoned a book from her library, The Art of Happiness, a handbook graced by the Dalai Lama.  6. Months later, we all receive an email. The Dalai Lama himself will be speaking at the graduation ceremony of 2017. Coincidence? Maybe. Affected? Absolutely. 7. Every other day I feel like I am going through some type of existential crisis. Constantly wondering where I am going to be after this is all over, constantly questioning if I’ve made the ‘right’ career path, constantly engulfed by every insecurity going on through every early 20-year-old soon-to-be graduated college student during a quarter-life crisis. 

Which leads me to meeting Jumpei. At attempts to keep busy and work toward where I want to be--the considered “safe zone” in this capitalistic society, I study or research music and the various avenues to “succeed”. With my favorite coffee shop getting incredibly busy during this part of the season with college kids sprinkled everywhere, it has increasingly become difficult to find a seat nowadays. One table, in a row of individual tables aligned a long bench, was open, so immediately I sat down and began to construct my workstation. About a half hour into my studies, the Japanese kid in a flashy suit next to me asked what I was studying. Macroeconomics, I replied. “What is your dream”, he asked. Thinking to myself, “that’s a loaded question for a stranger, who is this guy?” I stopped and asked myself that question. Unable to come up with an answer, I was startled. Everybody has a dream. Kids have limitless dreams. Why can’t I think of even just one that can bring me some type of satisfaction? In a string of stutters and verbal circles, ‘I don’t know’ I defeatedly admitted. He said, “It’s okay, I didn’t know how to answer that either when I was asked.” And began describing what he is also trying to figure out in his own life as a recent college graduate. Apparently, he was currently under a mentorship of a couple who retired at 33 years old, who asked him the same question which made him come to realize his biggest fear: not knowing what his ideal life, his dream, was. They have been teaching him how to manage his income and helping him learn the foundations toward future endeavors to be able to do the same--knowledge of building assets, understanding investments, understanding fiscal responsibility, ultimately to become self-sustainable and financially secure. We shared stories. He offered to introduce me and also become students of them and gain some experience before entering the dreaded workforce under corporate america. We shared contact info. I thought to myself, well shit, my questions may have been answered. This may lead to a possible job or whatever the fuck after. Maybe I’m not shit out of luck after all.

8. After a night spent consumed in studies and metaphysical contemplations, I came home to my roommate and his co-workers hanging about in our living room, hookah smoke in the air and glass bottles on the counter. A few exchanges of good-natured banter and “locker-room” talk amongst all of us, I expected nothing but a night left with shallow humor and laughs. Never have I been so wrong. Iraj, the 47 year-old Iranian electrical engineer, began discussing the processes of energy--neither able to be created nor destroyed--and his understandings/perception of the process of how the universe works due to an epiphany from a weekend spent with mushrooms in his undergraduate days. The simple alteration of our minds and the way we perceived things, he said, is the greatest gift you can give yourself. The way he described to us his experiences and the revelations he experienced through years of meditation and introspective thoughts, stuck to me. He said to us, each of us, to the core, is love. Energy is love. We are not to seek or feel, but to be love. Love as an entity of its own, not to be mistaken with romance, we are it. Everyone is it. Neither able to be created nor destroyed, we as individuals and a collection are energy. We are love. And much much more. Furthering the archive of book recommendations, he threw more titles at us to read. I willfully accepted and thanked. 9. Sitting marinated in those thoughts for a few weeks, I continued to bask in all of these ideologies. I’ve come to understand that the fundamental purpose of life is to understand. To be. The purpose which drives us. The final goal of every conscious being on this planet is simply to be at peace. Monks have been practicing this ideology for ages. 10. Jumpei constantly kept me updated with the times he’d meet with Mike and his wife (I forgot her name), and continue to share what he’s learned from them, on top of his day job as a sales representative. 2/22, I met up with him for some coffee while I study for my next midterm and for him to teach me what he has been learning. It’s a simple change in the way we think as a collective, he stresses. The initial lesson began with asset building with settings of a monopolistic firm, proceeding to multiple firms of different depths and markets following the same constraints of a monopolistic firm basically alluding to multiple sources of income. That’s the key, Mike stresses. The atmosphere shifts and we begin conversing on other topics, again reflecting upon self-fulfillment. I come to find out that this money hungry dude is not just some money obsessed guy. Jumpei has an interesting background being from Japan with its intense societal structures and being raised by his grandparents owning a spiritual healing and crystal business. And that all of these money-making plans is just a game to him to break through and out of the system of capitalist consumerism. This kid in an extremely well-tailored suit and flashy watch admits all of this shit means nothing to him. Once, he was a free roaming, dreaded-haired spirit roaming through Thailand as a yogi doing all he can to align himself with the energies toward enlightenment. The same verses spoken by Iraj, the 47 year old electrical engineer. At this point, my mind was spinning, as I shared the same sentiments. The universe works in some fucking incredible ways. He said, look man, I believe we both run on the same vibrations and the universe has united us as indigo beings to question this threshold and increase these wavelengths to higher heights. He believes it’s not a coincidence I sat by him that day and he felt that. We’re spiritual brothers, he continued. That’s why I want to share these things I’m learning with you. There’s more work to be done outside of this game. I laughed to myself as my chest began to tremble nervously and eagerly simultaneously. As for myself, I’m all for skepticism when it comes to crystal healings and whatnot, but I do believe in spiritual connections and magnetic draws in our vibrations. This path I have set upon, fully allowing the universe to take me toward whichever direction, following the omens as Santiago did, questioning but also trusting in myself as Siddhartha has, has led me to this point. I’m on a spiritual journey, who knows where it is heading toward, but I take it all in. And I’m treading these waters carefully, cautiously, and willfully. The metaphorical tunnel I am leading, what I’ve come to understand as, is no test with a light at the end. But rather an unlit road with myself being my light, only able to see an arm-lengths radius surrounding me, but becoming increasingly brighter as I recruit others and awaken them along the path to join with their respective lights becoming a brighter force and shining further to see more of our perimeter as we continue further. [tl;dr] My trip towards enlightenment [influenced out of my control]: 1. I let go and ended up going on a road trip that i didn't suggest nor plan but pushed me onto a path of spirituality unknowingly. 2. Met Vence and Dean and increased my knowledge and understanding of energy. 3. Revisited The Alchemist that allowed me to reflect internally what I believe my purpose to be 4. Read Siddhartha after multiple recommendations which helped me understand what it means to become enlightened and question myself on what it means to me 5. Allowed myself to be vulnerable with my mother about my inner demons, which she suggested a new read by the Dalai Lama 6. Months later finding out the Dalai Lama will be speaking at our commencement ceremony 7. Met Jumpei, what I perceived at the time to be a business connection 8. Learned from Iraj, a 47 year old electrical engineer who used his understanding of physics and applied them to meta-physics and shared with us his thoughts toward enlightenment 9. Grasped the multiple concepts and marinated in thought introspectively to what it means to me and how it is incorporated into everyday life 10. Met with Jumpei once again on a business meeting and learning he too, has been traveling his spiritual journey for years with a background heavily influenced by yogi and meditation. Indigo Children. Spiritual brothers, is what he refers us to be. Find peace. Seek happiness. Become love. My friends, take it all in. Much love to you all.

[womens-studies-degree-blog]

Critical Response to Fight Club

March 2006

In an interview at Yale University, Edward Norton, star of David Fincher’s Fight Club, declares that the movie’s success can be marked by the extent to which audiences ponder and struggle with it; various social constructs are guaranteed to suddenly raise question marks in audiences’ minds. I see Fight Club as the integration of challenges both psychological and sociological; Norton’s character Jack narrates the story, consequently attributing the events of the film to an exploration of his psyche (hence the deeply psychological aspect of the film—namely, the psychotic fabrication of Tyler Durden as a means of restructuring Jack’s identity), while Tyler’s Fight Club movement raises questions about anarchy as well as the sheer irony of a subculture that opens up “franchises” around America much like the numbing corporations which Project Mayhem attempts to denounce.

           On a further sociological note, Fight Club poses a threat to feminism with its oddly discomforting old-fashioned misogyny. Upon closer inspection, however, the female character of the film, Marla Singer, exhibits complications of standard gender norms and challenges the supposed misogyny received from Jack and Tyler. Ultimately, Jack’s imprisonment within a late capitalist culture and his consequent attempt at creating a successful subculture, combined with the complicated relationship between Jack/Tyler and Marla (therefore masculinity and femininity) reveals a deep critique of contemporary society itself.  

           Jack’s existential crisis is highlighted by his Starbucks-drinking, Ikea-buying, slave to the office, monotonous routine. Consumerism swallows him whole as he suffers from insomnia and depression. That this meaningless existence prompts Jack to do the impossible—that is, to hurl oneself past all social boundaries into an alternative lifestyle—suggests that the society in which Jack lives is torture that he must escape. Ultimately, Jack suffers as a victim of capitalism and its culture industry; this industry inundates us with pop culture to “reproduce incessantly the values of capitalist culture” (O’Brien and Szeman, 105). Meanwhile, we spiral into a sense of total entrapment within the numbing pseudo-individualization integral to this culture (O’Brien and Szeman, 107), all of which Jack epitomizes through his yin-yang coffee tables and emotional breakdowns at group meetings for testicular cancer.

           However, as Tyler and Fight Club evolve, Jack’s escape from his meaningless identity as a consumer results in violence and barbarism; Tyler’s seemingly revolutionary understanding and criticism of consumerism somehow translate into a hyper-masculine, dirty rebellion in which physical pain is equated with escaping society. While Tyler prompts Jack to “roll with it” (as most people truly wish to do), thus exercising a true liberation from societal norms and boundaries, an animalistic reliance on instincts begins to take precedence over any form of reason as Project Mayhem erupts into an empire. The ensuing chaotic disorder that slowly destroys Jack ultimately arises from the army-like quality the Fight Club assumes: all members lose their names and therefore their identities; an ironic dictatorship develops for “in Tyler [they] trust;” the subculture ultimately returns to the origins of capitalist culture through hierarchy and obedience; essentially, the group of men switch from one opiate to another.

           Thus, Fight Club seems to suggest that “human nature” is inescapable, a concept almost justifying capitalist instrumental rationality (O’Brien and Szeman, 105) in itself by suggesting that human history contains the only possibilities for social order that there will ever be. The film ends without resolution: as corporate buildings collapse before Jack and Marla’s eyes, it is unclear whether Jack feels accomplished or detached from the success of Tyler’s mission. Because Jack has exterminated Tyler and is therefore back to searching for his identity, Fight Club ends with a sensation that somehow society, in all its power, will undoubtedly intervene to drive us mad and hinder revolutionists from restructuring the social world.

            The film markedly ends with this very image of Jack and Marla, hand-in-hand, visually suggesting a newfound equality of the two. Consequently, the misogyny present throughout the film is called into question, forcing the audience to consider the significance of the various male stereotypes infused into the movie. From the multiple references to castration anxiety (Georgis) to the blatant masculine stereotype of brutal fighting, Fight Club’s depiction of a raw masculinity counteracting the effeminate nature of consumerism (O’Brien and Szeman, 158) coincides with misogyny and traditional gender roles, as O’Brien and Szeman similarly suggest (252). Femininity only appears in the film as a magazine cover and Marla’s sexuality, an objectification of women emphasized when Tyler abandons Marla mid-coitus and asks Jack, “Do you want to finish her off?”

           Upon further examining Jack’s psyche, however, a more complicated relationship with femininity emerges as he does in fact repress a true love for Marla: in the beginning of the movie, Jack’s narration states that everything happened because of her. Furthermore, Marla invades Jack’s “cave,” or deep subconscious, and the moment Jack chooses to call Tyler instead of Marla marks the onset of mayhem. When also considering the illusion of Tyler’s existence, Fight Club can be regarded as Jack’s self-absorbed Freudian struggle, and this castration-anxious masculinity a mere by-product of his psychosis responsible for the hyper-masculine form his anarchist subculture takes. Thus the film itself is not necessarily misogynistic, but rather comments on deep patriarchal values so instilled in our collective unconscious that they dictate the actions of a man numb to society.

           Because Jack’s immersion in Tyler’s world does not allow him, and therefore the film, to explore Marla’s character, the audience of Fight Club can still perceive Marla as an independent subject who simply hides her complexities from the crux of the story. This schizophrenic course Jack takes, accompanied by the film’s revelation that Jack himself destroyed his apartment, hints at the character’s self-destructive state and thus the possibility of the entire cult as a mere product of Jack’s psychosis. As O’Brien and Szeman believe Forrest Gump does, Fight Club may also problematically “exemplify very clearly one of the most dominant ways in which subcultures are represented—simply as the actions of misguided, messed-up people.” (249) Nonetheless, Fight Club thoroughly explores the reality of this subculture, and indeed very seriously examines and condemns the capitalist society in which we live.   

References

Fight Club. Dir. David Fincher. Perf. Brad Pitt, Edward Norton. DVD. Regency Enterprises,  

1999.

Georgis, Dina. Lecture. WMNS 225. Queen's University, Kingston. 8 Mar. 2006.

Norton, Edward. Interview. 3 Oct. 1999. Fight Club DVD.

O'Brien, Susie, and Szeman, Imre. Popular Culture: A User's Guide. Scarborough: Thomson

Nelson, 2004.