Late Night Starveling
Quote of the day:
“The whole purpose of the journey was to make this concert for the penguins.”
- artist Pierre Huyghe
another from M. Huyghe:
“We’re going to go to this no-knowledge zone where things have no names, and we’re going to do things down there.”
Who is this Pierre Huyghe?
This evening I watched a film entitled George Washington, about a group of young Southern kids going about their days. It was a strange, almost feverish type of movie. Not feverish in the way of weird camera angles and intentional strangeness, but feverish in a kind of hyperreal style.
It evidently won several film festivals a few years ago (2000), but it never caught on with me. Interesting director, though. He was only 25 at the time the film was made. I got it from Netflix, home to my nearly 500-title obsession (aka The Queue). I thought it was similar to another movie that I didn't enjoy AT ALL - Gummo. Harmony Korine, the director of Gummo, should be force-fed office memos from Fortune 500 companies until he's immobile - only he'd like it and film it. George Washington is a much gentler film to watch, but still has that hyperreal, almost sweaty feel to it that makes me very uncomfortable.
***
I'm trying to get to the point where my days can be captured here with some clarity and some depth. It's the whole reason I started to blog in the first place - to capture my memories, react to what transpires, have a storehouse for my life. It's so easy to just lay flat and go about the week with a lazy detachment to events, to thoughts themselves. It's this disturbing notion that half of your life is waiting for you outside of yourself, made up of other people around you, random chance, whatever.
I stay up in my head so much that it's almost as if I'm sleepwalking through my waking hours. Always thinking, thinking, thinking and then feeling the slack of the thoughts leave with nothing remaining but the sound of my shoes on the pavement. I try and stuff my mind full of books, movies, sounds - toward what end? Who I am supposed to become from all this input? I have this strange idea that by constantly barraging myself with new ideas that something interior will stick and turn me towards the light. But the light only seems to come from another open door as I leave for more media exposure.
Insatiable curiosity. Without form or function - just exposure.
“The whole purpose of the journey was to make this concert for the penguins.”
- artist Pierre Huyghe
another from M. Huyghe:
“We’re going to go to this no-knowledge zone where things have no names, and we’re going to do things down there.”
Who is this Pierre Huyghe?
This evening I watched a film entitled George Washington, about a group of young Southern kids going about their days. It was a strange, almost feverish type of movie. Not feverish in the way of weird camera angles and intentional strangeness, but feverish in a kind of hyperreal style.
It evidently won several film festivals a few years ago (2000), but it never caught on with me. Interesting director, though. He was only 25 at the time the film was made. I got it from Netflix, home to my nearly 500-title obsession (aka The Queue). I thought it was similar to another movie that I didn't enjoy AT ALL - Gummo. Harmony Korine, the director of Gummo, should be force-fed office memos from Fortune 500 companies until he's immobile - only he'd like it and film it. George Washington is a much gentler film to watch, but still has that hyperreal, almost sweaty feel to it that makes me very uncomfortable.
***
I'm trying to get to the point where my days can be captured here with some clarity and some depth. It's the whole reason I started to blog in the first place - to capture my memories, react to what transpires, have a storehouse for my life. It's so easy to just lay flat and go about the week with a lazy detachment to events, to thoughts themselves. It's this disturbing notion that half of your life is waiting for you outside of yourself, made up of other people around you, random chance, whatever.
I stay up in my head so much that it's almost as if I'm sleepwalking through my waking hours. Always thinking, thinking, thinking and then feeling the slack of the thoughts leave with nothing remaining but the sound of my shoes on the pavement. I try and stuff my mind full of books, movies, sounds - toward what end? Who I am supposed to become from all this input? I have this strange idea that by constantly barraging myself with new ideas that something interior will stick and turn me towards the light. But the light only seems to come from another open door as I leave for more media exposure.
Insatiable curiosity. Without form or function - just exposure.
posted by Stefush at 8:09 PM
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