Self-servingly this took some minor emotional courage to start with these images cause they were taken summer 2017 in preparation for shooting come summer 2018 except 2018 was when I went boss-level mental and lost everyone’s support save for 4 people who hung on for dear moral life. By actual shooting come summer 2019 this setting was gone baby gone, so these images I guess channel the collective loss spectrally-weaved between the pixels. Also these before-eradicated-abandoned structures are depressing by sympathetic nature. Then I also realized that this entire website has my deepest and darkest secrets empathy-peanut-butter-spread all over it and my passing anxiety was a predictable reflex-reaction to visual sensory, and anyway I was still freshly recovering from being nucking futs when we were at VIFF 2018 and Ian had to be my designated caregiver on the 2nd night before he and Matias flew a kite in front of a cineplex audience on the 3rd afternoon, so yeah I guess it’s all relative.
Oh right I’m sharing them cause I keep making the haunted house allegory and I never visited any scary mansions so this outpost is the closest documentation I got.
I feel compelled to write this one. Admittedly partly because the next one which I already wrote yesterday is just too f@ckin weird and I genuinely don’t wanna drive off anyone who’s obliged me with their graceful attention. I can say this without feeling like I’m talking bullfecal cause I’m not That famous yet, though yes whoever still has the repressed hots for me I don’t even self-detrimentally think about you anymore so you have every reason to feel the long-term regret.
Here’s the thing, if I ever am ever sought out by disney in a simulated world where the general populace’s tastes are untrustworthily open-minded [“youare upto sometheeng…”]—say I had that much attention, I genuinely think I’d feel way worse about human connection. Cause the more out-of-control attention you have, doesn’t that mean the less you could trust people? How can you tell who showed up to give you a voice and who showed up instead to be your brood war expansion set by association? At a scenario-event with twelve thousand goers, you’re gonna find me doing something like making sure the door dude lets in all-access the namesOH SHHIIIIT WORLD-LEAGUE-ALL-STAR-BAD-GUYS BOLSONARO GOT CORONAED yo I thought cartoon characters were untouchable—find me doing something like making sure the door dude lets in all-access the names I shouted out on << Vessel / Wraith >> and so willingly upset all the wannabe-expansion-setees in the line.
Ruminations like this are important to me right now—I can feel the ephemerality and temporal [yya I went on dictionary.com to sound sleek..] <temporariness> of this part of my quest to express. I can consciously gauge who’s come—or at the dawn quintessentially found me [Adam <3]—and shown up to be part of whatever part of this movement, whether they’re yelling the dialogue really well cause they’re raw performers / suffering under the humidity, or whether they’re responding to the immediate work and hence giving it a lasting life.
What I’m getting at with this one. Nowait sorry I need a couple more thoughts to link towards what I’m getting at:
- The best I convince myself I can give Vs. The lack of lasting marks I’ll feel it made
- Who I have reached / am reaching Vs. When it feels like I’m outsourcing within a haunted house of passing ghosts
- Who will actually actively get this abstract movement to the abstract revelation of change I abstractly imagine Vs. Reality
- The bigger something gets, the more chance it’ll lose its meaning.
- We tend to Always want more, regardless what we say is “the moment we’ll go ya-I’m-good-now.”
- So long as I am alive and not a 47-year old obese man sprawled across his sofa watching mid-afternoon television and struggling to slide the next lays classic bbq onto his mouth-breather tongue, I will probably want something I don’t have.
What I want Vs. All I’ll have
That’s an essential Open Doom reference I’ll keep revisiting.
Here’s another context. Daniel Barrett—my proverbial life coach who’s conveniently also my favorite musician—is pretty much as legit a human being who wants to give to a better world as I may ever meet who’s substantially famous and actually successful. Please don’t think I’m bragging; I am very much just one delinquent out of many people who’ve found inspiration in Dan’s work towards all-out empathy. This through his multiple public outlets. No I have not equivalent-become a jehovah’s witness, plus my neighbor’s son already tried this year, failed, and came out paying Me to shovel his mom’s driveway, go figure skating. Yes that’s how much a youth delinquent I appear to middle-aged adults who occasionally visit their elderly moms in the ghetto. I mean he’s the one who sees me in the middle of a street war—which I won by the way, not bragging cause I did cry at one point from not being able to shock-compute the neighborhood grim reaper [who no one crosses and who’s on my side]’s kindness.
*Scrolls up* Right I’m not a jehova’s witness fuck that so trust me that this comes from a paranoid rarely-maybe-schizo misanthrope. Dan’s a real person with real humanity and vulnerability and what he does is not cultish like I might end up doing with enough exterior enablement.
Thing is—and I’m not deconstructing or talking shit cause this directly stems from his work’s dialogue—Dan like any thoughtful person actively works to reconcile what impact he’ll ultimately leave. And that alone is all that’s needed to rupture an answer to my personal non-reconciliation.
If Dan Barrett can have doubts about his lasting impact, even when it’s a scientific fact he has already profoundly bettered countless lives, Have a Nice Life has a subreddit—then at what point would a nobody like I feel any peace of mind?
I know the more objective answer is that it’s subjective, in that it’s up to me to consider my impact worthwhile, without making that a free pass for complacent apathy. Again I wanna be the first to call my own humility out. Say I become straight up set for life famous, then as a result I defenestrate all empathy, start flooring a porsche across town while drive-by-punching passing bystanders, wearing damngod rayban sunglasses, smoking cigars and tossing the butts into flammable compacters; I would only be grateful this happened if to re-enact it for a post-rehab-sorry-I-was-shitty-biopic à la david o’russell. So to my earnest / not-actually-asking-you-to-answer question if I were to indulge mmMe…
Can I be a living ghost you can find solace with.
Not as in you-sleep-with-me cause that’d just make me another conniving turtlenecked piece of blazé-bearded shit. Solace in the loner paradox. I just realized how attentively hard I wanted to share my own subjective vocabulary with words like loner paradox, vessel, wraith, and fan-fiction as a verb, which the latter I didn’t even notice until Emily lit the hype up. Sermed you are in good company re: only you noticing the lays wordplay originally beta-tested in one of the pre-website mailings.
Something I always gotta ask myself when I don’t feel the kinetic moral momentum from those who get it—does not a single grammar-conservative/nazi not ask themselves—how can language exist if not to change? They don’t realize that otherwise as far as english goes we’d be say freakin thou eis monty python all day?
From my side I just need one case to demonstrate to these graconzis:
Proposition Vs. Reaction
Pain – taken seriously depending on what you tell them
Angst – “mmMM! woe is me mmdontcare!mMmjimjarmush”
Grammatically superimpose Angst over Pain
Angst now = Pain – they scrutinize by nature cause they still hear Angst
Selected angst: your leg’s chopped off and Hellspawn spectres unleash through the
amputation-portal through the ampuportalation – “Holy shit that is ridiculous but because it is so wheelbarrow-balls-to-the-walls silly it has short-circuit-hacked me into seeing the grounded thematic allegory behind the exaggeration—pain either spiritual or physiological.”
Angst – taken sincerely
Suck it graconzis.
My answer’s maintained. I don’t think it’ll come down to the number of people whose lives are profoundly bettered by what I give. I think I just somehow gotta have given at all.
If you’re reading — Thanks for giving me a shot. Thanks for showing up.
A rundown of Dan Barrett’s perspective—the parts of the 49 minutes that he talks to hear out his empathy.