please stop tickling me

In which we laugh and laugh and laugh. And love. And drink.

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Otium cum Dignitatae

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Everything Is Temporary

So, in case you've been wondering where I spend my weekend evenings, the Project continues apace.
It's teevee, baby, and boy do we have some ideas to share with this here ol' world.
The idea, at base, has gone from being a pointed parody of the news media (which I was kinda saying is being done better by people far more talented than us anyway) to an almost Twin Peaks-esque soap opera format in which attractive people wander around talking about issues never addressed in your average soap.

We've been doing quite a bit about the Federal Reserve, the stock market and the abstraction of capitol. We filmed a fake PBS-style interview in which I describe the Fed as being a basically Fascist (in the economic use of that word) aspect of what so proudly describes itself as a free trade economy. I describe corporate churches as 'an abomination'. I point out that the twin hipster kids from the future who have filled my head with these ideas are worth listening to regardless of whether or not they're time travelers because "I've heard a lot of decent theories, observations and statements from people standing on street corners pissing their pants from too much malt liquor, too."

(Back up: Twin Hipster Kids from the Future?)
Yes. After we meet Rich Bachelor three years ago, on the eve of our invasion of Iraq, we establish that he is the renegade scion of an obscenely wealthy family (mostly media and resource-extraction based wealth. For some reason, they're Danish), and has gone into hiding. He is a degenerating alcoholic who is lucky enough to have an administrative assistant named Zero from some shadowy org. headed by an even more shadowy figure named the Human Resourceress. It is also noted that a comet the size of a small planet is headed for the sun that evening (true, by the way; there was). It resembles the Eye of Horus.
Last night we filmed the scene in which I stumble into the back yard, drunk, and see two incredibly attractive young people emerging from the forest: they have static where their eyes should be.
The girl of the two steps up to me and slaps the cigarette out of my mouth. She then asks if 'they've taken the internet yet'.
I mutter some lame shit about broadband, and ask what she's talking about.
"Can you still look at porn on your computer?"
I say yes.
"Good. Then we're not too late."

Art and Life keep crossing over in their usual way, in this production. Rich Bachelor is trying his damndest to not destroy himself as he notes that, however many battles he's fought in the past, there will always be more, and they'll just get bigger. He is being aided by a far more organized assistant who he secretly has a crush on. He alternately wants to hide, and wants to muster the forces to fight the hideous evil he sees on the way. He knows that saying the right-sounding thing in the right place will change minds, and also that humanity is Asleep, and enjoys being that way. He knows a lot, and knows too that that might not necessarily matter.

For this production, I may have to just make myself healthier: it's what the character becomes. In the three years being described here, he goes from a lazy, socialite garbage fly to someone who is the spokesperson for a movement, and can beat The Bullshit Engine at its own game.

I know that grace and flexibility are required, and have been doubting whether or not my magic is functioning, of late. I feel old and tired, but the brain is still working in here. I have been feeling sorry for myself for far too long, and I knew it, but I'm just not sure where to take it next.
And there is magic in the world, by the way; nothing you haven't already noticed. The power of Words, for example. We all know that you can do anything you want with them, and the most devious of us amongst you will deny to the end that they're anything more than stick figures with which we poorly represent ideas. They're more than that, though: they're triggers.
That again, is the thing. Simple as stepping off the sidewalk and into the street, and every bit as dangerous: once you've noticed it, you can't really go back.

I ended up feeling a little better the other day after talking with an ex. I was forced to note yet again that she is emotionally unavailable until she decides to be a Pest. Her magic and illusion are strong, but once you notice what's been in front of you the entire time, there's really no other way of viewing it.
And this was in response to a pretty cold thing said to me in that conversation. I often whine that I wish people would just be nicer to me, but actually it does seem to be abject cruelty I respond to in the most dynamic way, and even more darkly, people seem to like me better when I'm being a mean ass bastard. I'm trying to draw a usable conclusion from this.

We're getting near a place where we have enough footage for a first episode to be podcasted. The impulse here (and this has already been a problem) would be to fine tune the damn thing ad infinitum, and never actually reach a final product that can be shared. We are, at various points, going to be discussing just about everything that can be discussed, so the impulse is understandable. I intend to suggest that we get to a rational finishing point, and release the first salvo. It should be titled, I think, "Everything is Temporary".

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2 Comments:

Blogger Jacq said...

When you said "People seem to like me when I'm a mean-ass bastard," damn, I couldn't agree more. I often try to use the "Silence is Golden" approach rather than to speak loud and say nothing. But then again, people respond better to my Bitchy persona. Go figure.

1:32 PM  
Blogger George said...

This is a beautiful post. Too much to respond to. But as to people liking the mean bastard, well, of course, people respond to power. And you've always had more than the average amount of personal power in any given room full of people. I'm not sure their appreciation of is of value though. I think I appear to be a bit of a simp at times now-a-days and, frankly, it's fantastically freeing to be underestimated. My friends know me. That's good enough.

I actually think that's more or less the truth and isn't just a pose.

12:26 PM  

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