Welcome to the topic that eats at my soul like Mel Gibson chews a phone line. Social-fucking-Media...in this case, Facebook. I've learned that there are a few good things about it, but more bad things than good.
What is Facebook you ask? It's a website that you go to, to see how much better or worse you're doing than your ex-girlfriend or high school buddy. It's a place where you can write "I NEED COFFEE!!" and 20 little Thumbs Up icons with the word "Like" will pop up underneath it 20 minutes later.
But, mostly, it's a place to reconnect with people that you intentionally lost contact with to begin with.
"JOHNNY!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!" - "Trying to fucking avoid you for the last 20 years....seems I'd make a horrible secret agent."
It boggles my mind that people I went to high school with (minus a select few) want to contact me, when I obviously didn't like them then, and I got the fuck out of my Podunk Town as fast as I could. Not one of these people searched for a number to call me at, or an address to write me for nearly 15 years. Yet, when "We're getting our graduating class back in contact!" is as easy as plugging in a name, and clicking "Send Friend Request" enters the world...then every knucklehead you ran from, all of a sudden wants to see your Photo Albums.
Oddly enough, that isn't the part that irks me the most. Nope, I can deal with Stupid better than most. My big gripe is Religion in Social Media.
Here you have people that you had too many differences with, that you left behind to find friends of similar likeness, posting their ideas, thoughts, and feelings on a daily (sometimes minutely) basis. The friend that befriended you on Facebook that goes to church every Sunday. The friend that came out of the closet in college. The friend that went to war in Iraq. The friend that...
Each went their own path, and created a new existence, a new pack of animals to run with, and a new family circle....but then.....it happens:
"May God bless me today, because I am about to cut the grass, and I want to do it to His liking!"
I know what you're thinking, "He's going to say 'What in the homemade fuck is that shit?!'!!", because I'm an Atheist, aren't you?
No, that isn't what bothers me, it's that, as I've said before...opinions are like assholes...everyone has one.
The part that pisses me off is that it creates a rift, when the opinionated person has to write "Keep that shit to yourself, I don't want your Bible Knockin' bullshit on my Facebook.", and then incites a riot of comments from the Church Going types, to everyone else, ultimately ending in someone being deleted.
I get it all the time. I'm an Atheist-Straight Man-that embraces Gay people and their right to get married-Ethnic Equality-and drinks scotch like it's going to put out a fire, and smokes cigars like they're made of pussy....and so you can imagine the types of comments I get from my posts. Not to mention, I was born without a verbal regulator.
I let my friends be who they are. Muslim, Christian, Baptist, Catholic...Gay, Straight, Little, Fat, Pothead....whatever....it's their life...just don't infringe on others. You see, we weren't MEANT to be friends with hundreds, or thousands of people. We are a PACK animal. Apes, don't have thousands of other apes around them. (mostly because we're a virus on this planet, and we're killing off apes, whales, dolphins...until there are only hundreds of them in existence...look it up). Why? Because that many people in your life isn't necessary. Not only that, but you can't possibly divide your pea brain between that many people. So, it is a place to attack others, as well as befriend them. It's a place to "compare lives", and a place to feel inadequate, or superior. We all have the friend that posts his/her pictures from their travels from around the world in excess. Why? "Because I'm better than you."...that's why.
Granted, you can occasionally find someone (rarely) on Facebook that you normally wouldn't have known without it, that you have similar interests, and you now consider a friend. But, who needs 'em?
Look folks...we're all different...every single one of us. In all my relationships, I celebrated my differences as well as my similarities. You need to keep that spice in your life, but at the same time, we don't need to reconnect with every asshole that we left in our past. That is not living in the present, nor the future. That is trying to hold on to your youth. Something that ticks away with every click of the clock.
Find (in the real world) a select group of friends. Friends that you can talk to for hours on end. Friends that are 75% or above similar to you. Friends you can actually go have a beer with (at a bar, with people....that you can touch), and converse with about whatever your heart desires. Find someone you love the same way.
But, this garbage website is destroying the reality of friendship. It's making people more pretentious, more egomaniacal, and more bandwagony.
I'm going to go have a beer...and check my Mafia Wars...I think I just got an Energy Pack....
Get Fucked Facebook,
Johnny
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Death of an Artform
Hello dear blog, how I've missed you. And, hello readers, I'm sorry for not posting anything in the last few months. Life has been truly chaotic to say the least.
Yet, excuses aside, there is a raging fire burning inside that must come out in the form of words for your eyes to be scorched by.
This fire is from anger, from sadness, from passion and from ambitions that have fallen by the wayside.
The death of the artist world.
After watching the movie BRIGHT STAR, and reliving the life of John Keats, it came to my attention, that we no longer care about art. Not poetry, not paintings, not sculpture, and definitely not acting.
When Transformers can sell billions of dollars, and Bright Star falls flat, you really have to think about our society, and how it perceives art in our age.
Bright Star is the story of John Keats, one of the most brilliant Romantic Poets of all time. He was poor, homeless at times, and fell in love with a well-to-do woman that returned that love for him, but she was scorned by society, by friends and family alike for loving a man, wholeheartedly and passionately, that could not better her life in any way. The movie is so well acted, the story they chose was so well written, and the dialogue is amazing. So, we have art in it's purest form, twofold in this film. The story of John Keats and his poetry, and the film itself. Neither of which, I assume anyone knew about until now.
Now, I understand we have the Daniel Day Lewis' of the acting world that still consider acting an art form and he makes his movies, and then retires to his life of cobbling shoes. That is a man that gets that he has a gift and wants to share it with the world, but wants to feel 'normal' and human when he's not creating a film. But, as a whole, we put more attention into what Lindsay Lohan is doing, rather than checking our local museum to see what art pieces are passing through there.
We have stopped reading books, and we've stopped appreciating the writers themselves. Unless we actively hear about some book being amazing (Harry Potter, The Secret, The Da Vinci Code, etc.) we will not peruse our bookstore looking for what's new and exciting, and then when you do find a friend that does do so, we look at them with amazement, like they're some kind of freak.
It used to be hard to make a living as an artist (still is), but at least the artist was respected. The actor on a stage, the writer that wrote the play, the clothing designer that created the clothes, the artist who painted the backdrop.
We don't care about any of that anymore. It saddens me, and pisses me off at the same time. Art used to be known as "Culturing yourself.". Creating a part of a culture that embraced the artistic value, and the people themselves that were born with a gift.
Now, an actor with a true talent moves to Hollywood (not to be famous, but to act), and gets shoved aside by a Reality Star that's willing to eat dog shit for 15 minutes of fame on a television show that took up a slot where a scripted show should have been.
No, we don't care. We don't care that a man can create music with a piano that touches the soul in a way only likened to a woman softly touching your face. Because it doesn't have Lil Wayne or T Pain in it.
We are a world of commercials. Our attention span is 15 seconds or less. We care more about Ed Hardy than we do Ed Harper.
What happened to the world that used to look up to Broadway as a Masterpiece of art, and saw it as a ritzy and glamorous showcase? What happened to music that was created with instruments, and a voice, and not with a computer? What happened to the writer that used to write books....and not have to write blogs.....What happened to the actor, that used to be able to at least find enough work to survive on, rather than being bombarded with one million people wanting fame and fortune?
What happened to us people? We are on a downward spiral that is destined for nothing good.
Pablo Picasso said: Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.
I think the bigger issue is, how to we start caring again?
(i fear, that even this blog will be too long for most people to make it through the whole thing)
Let's take back our world. Let's give ourselves class and sophistication again. Let's support those that bring true value to our world, for each artist paints a landscape with his own talent, and it's up to us to find an outlet that can be appreciated by more than just ourselves.
The world would be a much better place, if we would cherish, and hold close, those things that truly have substance, and stop looking for the 'quick fix'.
Appreciatively yours,
Johnny
Yet, excuses aside, there is a raging fire burning inside that must come out in the form of words for your eyes to be scorched by.
This fire is from anger, from sadness, from passion and from ambitions that have fallen by the wayside.
The death of the artist world.
After watching the movie BRIGHT STAR, and reliving the life of John Keats, it came to my attention, that we no longer care about art. Not poetry, not paintings, not sculpture, and definitely not acting.
When Transformers can sell billions of dollars, and Bright Star falls flat, you really have to think about our society, and how it perceives art in our age.
Bright Star is the story of John Keats, one of the most brilliant Romantic Poets of all time. He was poor, homeless at times, and fell in love with a well-to-do woman that returned that love for him, but she was scorned by society, by friends and family alike for loving a man, wholeheartedly and passionately, that could not better her life in any way. The movie is so well acted, the story they chose was so well written, and the dialogue is amazing. So, we have art in it's purest form, twofold in this film. The story of John Keats and his poetry, and the film itself. Neither of which, I assume anyone knew about until now.
Now, I understand we have the Daniel Day Lewis' of the acting world that still consider acting an art form and he makes his movies, and then retires to his life of cobbling shoes. That is a man that gets that he has a gift and wants to share it with the world, but wants to feel 'normal' and human when he's not creating a film. But, as a whole, we put more attention into what Lindsay Lohan is doing, rather than checking our local museum to see what art pieces are passing through there.
We have stopped reading books, and we've stopped appreciating the writers themselves. Unless we actively hear about some book being amazing (Harry Potter, The Secret, The Da Vinci Code, etc.) we will not peruse our bookstore looking for what's new and exciting, and then when you do find a friend that does do so, we look at them with amazement, like they're some kind of freak.
It used to be hard to make a living as an artist (still is), but at least the artist was respected. The actor on a stage, the writer that wrote the play, the clothing designer that created the clothes, the artist who painted the backdrop.
We don't care about any of that anymore. It saddens me, and pisses me off at the same time. Art used to be known as "Culturing yourself.". Creating a part of a culture that embraced the artistic value, and the people themselves that were born with a gift.
Now, an actor with a true talent moves to Hollywood (not to be famous, but to act), and gets shoved aside by a Reality Star that's willing to eat dog shit for 15 minutes of fame on a television show that took up a slot where a scripted show should have been.
No, we don't care. We don't care that a man can create music with a piano that touches the soul in a way only likened to a woman softly touching your face. Because it doesn't have Lil Wayne or T Pain in it.
We are a world of commercials. Our attention span is 15 seconds or less. We care more about Ed Hardy than we do Ed Harper.
What happened to the world that used to look up to Broadway as a Masterpiece of art, and saw it as a ritzy and glamorous showcase? What happened to music that was created with instruments, and a voice, and not with a computer? What happened to the writer that used to write books....and not have to write blogs.....What happened to the actor, that used to be able to at least find enough work to survive on, rather than being bombarded with one million people wanting fame and fortune?
What happened to us people? We are on a downward spiral that is destined for nothing good.
Pablo Picasso said: Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.
I think the bigger issue is, how to we start caring again?
(i fear, that even this blog will be too long for most people to make it through the whole thing)
Let's take back our world. Let's give ourselves class and sophistication again. Let's support those that bring true value to our world, for each artist paints a landscape with his own talent, and it's up to us to find an outlet that can be appreciated by more than just ourselves.
The world would be a much better place, if we would cherish, and hold close, those things that truly have substance, and stop looking for the 'quick fix'.
Appreciatively yours,
Johnny
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