Dig it, man - it's the punk rock!
Links:
Le Boutique Chowderhead
Go Flux Yourself
Hey, Generation Flux - please bite me. I've been fluxing my ass off for nearly 25 years. Practically everyone I know has been doing exactly what you're talking about, albeit with less palaver about Chaos Theory, less cyber-jargon, and with less phony baloney consulting gigs. It's called surviving and adapting and trying new things, mixing whatever it fucking takes with some semblance of personal expression and growth. You may not dig nostalgia, but congratulations nevertheless - you've invented the Lost Generation, the Beats, and Generation X. I guess we're supposed to be knocked out that this is happening in the "business world" judging from all the lame-ass business-speak, but any way you slice it, Genflux, you've invented the wild, mavericky concept of eschewing a safe, steady gig and doing your own thing. And making money at it? Frontiersville, baby.
I just wish that, like you, I'd found the time and energy in there along with all the cartooning, illustrating, film-making, writing, graphic and production design, books, and art shows to get all smug and self-aggrandizing about it, maybe even declare myself the mayor of some chunk of sidewalk. And you wanna' talk about chaos? I got your goddamn chaos right here.
Living on the Urban Edge of Now
Somehow this must tie in with beards, taxidermy, neo-diners, wood paneling, pulled pork, designer cupcakes, branches, horn rimmed glasses, thin crust pizza, and burger bars - but I can't quite put my finger on it. Blue collar chic? It seems that reconfiguring vaguely familiar things, standards and classics from simpler times into something contrived and complicated, that is to say - with a twist - is where it's at. Food Trucks!
The Modern World of Wrong
Am I the only one wondering if this whole "citizen journalist" thing is such a great idea after all? In asking this question on the internet, am I a citizen journalist now? Between fake journalistic sites like Breitbart and the celebrity pundit fest Huffington Post, not to mention the big cable news networks and their "let's go to the tweets" democratization/dumbing down of information-sharing, where did actual bona fide fact-finding, heavy-on-the-research journalism go? The mainstream largely exists as something else now - a tool, a device, a weapon that in the hands of its holders serves mainly to misinform, disinform, obfuscate reality, and perpetuate the big, noisy distracting cartoon show devised to keep us stupid and confused, or at the very least actively engaged in the this-vs.-that, us-vs.-them shuck and jive while they dazzle us with buzz-words and stabbing-edge graphics.
I know there's plenty to say in favour of citizen journalism/activism, and I want to believe that the internet and social media as it exists today are our strongest bulwarks against the stomping boot, but it seems that the downsides are quite pronounced as well. Increasingly I find that getting to the bottom of anything now requires a labyrinthian trek through the internet, sifting and sorting and cross-referencing like it's a job, where some guy's opinion or bias is sprayed everywhere along with the truth or all too often passed off as the truth.
If we've figured out that we're being lied to, that we've been lied to for some time - now what? The "new media" - yes, with facetious air quotes - often seems almost as bad as the old media, but what can one expect when anyone can play? It's like there's a new foot-in-mouth comedy of errors every other day involving some would be gonzo goof making like a journalist. And once again we're left wondering where the truth went. At times it feels like no matter what, the bullshit wins.
Anyway, I'm off to ambush Bono!
Fantastic Ghost Sign
(Kling klang image to engorge)
Uncovered on Granville Street at Robson, a fairly well-preserved painted ad for the 1922 Harold Lloyd film, "Grandma's Boy," which played at the Capitol Theatre across the street. Hidden for ninety years by another building, the sign's finally a goner. It's coming down along with a few more walls any day now to make way for something shiny and pointy and awful. The Capitol's gone as well, now the Capitol Fucking Condos.
More Japanese Noir
This one was pretty subdued for Seijun Suzuki, clearly a more formulaic outing for the soon to be out of control director. Michitaro Mizushima makes a pretty good world-weary rock-faced tough guy as a prison officer out for revenge and a little chin music, tracking down the guys who cost him his job and reputation. While there are lots of cool visual flourishes, there's not a lot of over-the-top crazy here - it's more of a whodunit than an action flick, but it still packs a decent knuckle sandwich.
Japanese Noir
How cruel can a gun story get? Pretty goddamn cruel. Joe's a tough, bitter ex-con in way over his cheeks in a heist gone very, very wrong - do they ever go right? - and the only way out is to load up and shoot everyone and everything in sight and then keep shooting. Finally, after using up all the bullets in Japan, Joe learns a hard lesson in loyalty, trust and dishonour among thieves, punching a one-way ticket to Endsville where even the Cruel Gun Story viewer is lucky he didn't catch some of the freely flying lead.
Mine, All Mine
Laid up with a cold, what could be better than a box set of 60's Japanese noir on a crisp winter weekend?
Rare Godfather 45
b/w "Solid with a Suitcase" - 1964
