GlitchSlapTko

I think that Roddy has nothing to fear. He simply can refrain from getting into airplanes. I, on the other hand, find myself losing sleep over this article on what the Tokyo earthquake will be like. Sure, I've got a plan, but . . .

Jean talks here about his next-door neighbor's masturbatory behavior. Below Jean and Robert reflect on the post and it's related comments over a cup of coffee at Office Meguro.
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Jean: So Robert, you were saying that you wanted to talk about that wacky (pun intended) neighbor of mine. You know, the one who was always masturbating?

Robert: Yeah, wanted to go a little deeper into the whole thing.

Jean: (Reclines slightly) What's there to go into? I guess he didn't know we could see him, and he went at it. End of story.

Robert: But your guess could be wrong, Jean. I mean, this could all be part of the thrill. I'm sure you French speaking people must have a good word for the thrill of being seen. Some kind of antonym for voyeurism. As they might say in America, it takes two to tango, if you know what I mean.

Jean: (Sits back up straight) Well, whatever you say. I just think that's taking things a bit too far. The guy was just spaking the monkey, and didn't know that we knew.

Robert: Oh, I totally agree that the guy was probably clueless, but still it's fun to imagine that something a little more cloak and dagger was going on.

Jean: It looks like you may have way too much free time, Robert. What are you, like a grad student or something?

Robert: (Smiles) Touche! But there was something else that I wanted to mention. Don't you think that blogging itself is comparable to masturbation anyway?

Jean: (Takes a long sip) Where are you going with this?

Robert: (Leaning closer) I think you know where I'm going with this, Jean. Peter commented with the queston "When will people learn to draw their curtains?" and I think that the answer is that they'll draw their curtians when they realise that no one is looking anymore. Isn't that the difference between a blog and a diary anyway? The thrill of indecent mental exposure to complete strangers?

Jean: But my webpage is here to provide information about...

Robert: Right, right. What's going on in Tokyo. But the fact that you aren't from the city has everything to do with the interesting aspects of the page. I mean, in a manner of speaking, you're that lonely Asian guy taking a shower in Sydney, playing with your...

Jean: (With feigned seriousness) Take it back.

Robert: (Seriously) OK. I take it back. I was just trying to get you to see it from the other side. What about what your wife said?

Jean: You're not dragging Yuko into this discussion, are you?

Robert: No, she has nothing at all to do with it at all.

Jean: Because if she did, I'd...

Robert: Well, I can't really say nothing at all, but...Hey, let's just drop it, OK?

Jean: (Quickly) Sure. Sugar please.

Robert: Of course. One lump or two?

Jean: Two.

Robert: There you go.

Jean: Thanks.

Robert: Don't mention it.

Jean: (After a long pause) So...where were we?

Robert: (Clearing throat) Well, I know that I might be pushing things here, but I think that the nonchalance that Yuko displayed (as one of your commenters has pointed out) in asking how long your neighbor could last might actually encapsulate the whole issue.

Jean: You're on thin ice here, buddy.

Robert: (Glaring through his shades) At least hear me out, IKEA-boy.

Jean: I'm listening...

Robert: I just wanted to say that her nonchalance about the display, and the nonchalance of the display itself are in perfect parallel. The only people in your two posts who seem to have been scandalized are you and Peter.

Jean: So you are implying that I'm totally misinterpreting the socio-cultural aspects of the event, and that my wife Yuko as a Japanese person is more at ease with such things, and that she really has a better way of "processing" this event?

Robert: Well, I wouldn't exactly put it that way, but if you put it like that Jean, I guess I'd have to agree. Farting, public-bathing, and love-hotels are three things that I can think of right off the top of my head that would make most Americans squirm in a public setting, but the Japanese don't give them a second thought. They might muse about how long the guy can last or whatever, but that's as "bad" as it'll get. Which by the way sounds to us either childlike or way dirty. Either way we aren't really...

Jean: Interesting, but that just wouldn't cut the mustard back in Canada.

Robert: I know, I know. It wouldn't cut shit where I'm from either, but they do seem to have less hang-ups all around about such things, you know.

Jean: But how can you call indecent exposure a LACK of sexual inhibitions?

Robert: How can you say that the only thing that makes jacking off indecent is that someone happens to see it? All you have to do is not look, right? Then it will be "decent" once more?!?

Jean: Give me a second...

Robert: Which brings me back to my comparison with blogging...

Jean: (Exhales) Shall we order another cup of coffee first?

Robert: (Finishing his third cup) Sure.

Tragedy (a serious play or book that ends sadly, especially with the death of the main character) as a genre is non-existent in Hollywood. I'm no expert, but judging from what I saw at CalArts (which was granted not the front lines of the independent film world, more like it's boot camp) I'd also guess that it's also barely present (for different reasons, naturally which in and of themselves would be interesting to investigate) in the independent film scene in that country as well. So interesting questions would be along the lines of . . .

What accounts for this lack of tragedy in America?

What is the opposite of this genre? Disney? Television itself? By TV I'm trying to refer to a world where there is no pathos, no struggle, no triumph/tragedy (these two have been up until recent times inseparable), no denouement (there is no time for this anymore, and every marketing rep. knows that the commercials that would run before and after would loose out to channel-surfing).

Why is it that we find almost nothing but tragedy in the ancient Greek works? What did they know that we don't know? Or better yet, why did they need it and why don't we? Why do we think that we don't need it when we really might.

Just what does the absence of tragedy SAY about modern times? Granted, there is nothing tragic about existence itself anymore. I mean, it's been too long since or last World War, or our last Holocaust, or our last Hiroshima for us to remember anyway. All that can be done is to go to these places (Germany, Japan, or Washington D.C. where they keep the two "back up" bombs) and try to imagine what it was like. The only problem is that it can't be done. Why not? Well, Schopenhauer (and Berkeley) will never speak to me again for saying this, but we seem very capable of making one thing and one thing only manifest through our blind will at least once every era, and moreover that one thing is the only thing that we can't imagine. The unimaginable nature of tragedy. Here we come to the crux of the matter. It's precisely because we can't imagine the nature of tragedy itself the we are doomed to repeat it (in various escalative manifestations) again and again throughout history. Perhaps tragedy as genre was simply ancient man's attempt to remember, and modern man has given up the attempt? But why? I'm not sure, but it makes me uneasy. That's why I can't let Antonin off the hook when he says Tragedy (a serious play or book that ends sadly, especially with the death of the main character) as a genre is non-existent in Hollywood. I'm no expert, but judging from what I saw at CalArts (which was granted not the front lines of the independent film world, more like it's boot camp) I'd also guess that it's also barely present (for different reasons, naturally which in and of themselves would be interesting to investigate) in the independent film scene in that country as well. So interesting questions would be along the lines of . . .

What accounts for this lack of tragedy in America?

What is the opposite of this genre? Disney? Television itself? By TV I'm trying to refer to a world where there is no pathos, no struggle, no triumph/tragedy (these two have been up until recent times inseparable), no denouement (there is no time for this anymore, and every marketing rep. knows that the commercials that would run before and after would loose out to channel-surfing).

Why is it that we find almost nothing but tragedy in the ancient Greek works? What did they know that we don't know? Or better yet, why did they need it and why don't we? Why do we think that we don't need it when we really might.

Just what does the absence of tragedy SAY about modern times? Granted, there is nothing tragic about existence itself anymore. I mean, it's been too long since or last World War, or our last Holocaust, or our last Hiroshima for us to remember anyway. All that can be done is to go to these places (Germany, Japan, or Washington D.C. where they keep the two "back up" bombs) and try to imagine what it was like. The only problem is that it can't be done. Why not? Schopenhauer (and Berkeley) will never speak to me again for saying this, but we seem very capable of making one thing and one thing only manifest through our blind will at least once every era, and moreover that one thing is the only thing that we can't imagine. The unimaginable nature of tragedy. Here we come to the crux of the matter. It's precisely because we can't imagine the nature of tragedy itself the we are doomed to repeat it (in various escalative manifestations) again and again throughout history. Perhaps tragedy as genre was simply ancient man's attempt to remember, and modern man has given up the attempt? Is it too taxing on us? After all, we've so much to busy ourselves with. Well, for whatever reason, this all has something to do with the reason why I can't let Antonin off the hook when he says that Virilio's pennings are irrelevant. That's an easy criticism to make for someone who's never seen a "real" war. (Of course, it's not Antonin's fault. Real wars aren't supposed to happen anymore anyway.)

Tangential anecdote time. Everyone who knows me well also knows this story. I'm constantly telling it. It was about 5 or 6 years ago. I was in Washington D.C. on invitation by Tina Natoli, dear friend, off-broadway aspirant, and a fellow survivalist of well-meant but poorly aimed parental love. Anyway, my lack of fondness for D.C. didn't stop me from saying "yes" since at the time I really didn't have any other place to go. It was X-mas time yet again and I wasn't really in touch with my family. Anyway, we had a pretty typical holiday time with Tina's folks in D.C. which included some snow, extended family, overeating, and a lot of free time in a house with more doilies than drinkers. So without giving it too much thought we went to the National Museum of History. It was New Year's Day and we climbed the stairs up and out of the public transport. A homeless black guy was lying in the melting snow. We made our way over the the museum, and did the normal "suggested route" (we passed on the headphone tour). When I came to the "back up" Fat Man, I stopped for a while, since I had at the time a burgeoning interest in Japan. Even though we were velvet-roped off from it's bulbous, disarmed hull which was faced away from us in profile, I found myself being drawn closer and closer. I ducked under the velvet rope and went around to the tip for a closer look. My curiosity and the fact that there was only a skeleton crew working that day made me do it. What I saw there impressed into the metal badge rivited to the tip I'll never forget, and it has given me cause for endless reflection. It was one of those "seal of quality" things, with something like "inspected by #(whatever)" and some kind of message of assurance regarding the quality of the manufacturing. I stood there dumbfounded for quite sometime, and then only after Tina called after me several times did I come away from the Fat Man, go back under the velvet rope, and back to reality. I never mentioned it to Tina. Since then, I have tried to imagine many times the face of the man (or I guess it was probably a woman since I have so many images of Rosina Bonavita in my mind) who put that badge there. I hold that person as responsible for what happened at Hiroshima as I do myself for not being able to imagine it all.

If Josh Shaddock or anyone out there who knows him reads this, please get in touch with me!

Now reading works by the following smart guys.

Schopenhauer
Nietzsche
Jean-Paul Sartre
Kierkegaard
Heidegger
St. Augustine
Ancient Philosophy (Plato and his crew)

Least I forget . . .

martyr
1. someone who dies for their religious or political beliefs, and whose death makes people believe more strongly in those beliefs 2. someone who tries to get other people's sympathy by talking about how hard their life is

The creatures that we (in the westernized world) have become are still willing to kill for the beliefs that they hold (as has always been the case), but are no longer willing to die for them. Along the bloody timeline of our military actions, I take as the fulcrum the Viet Nam War, which strikes a precarious balance between earlier, more costly (in terms of casualties), more ideological, and more importantly, more strongly BELIEVED IN wars (e.g. The Revolutionary War, The Civil War, WWI, WWII), and the later wars (Desert Shield/Storm, Op Restore Hope, Operation Endure Freedom, Operation Iraqi Freedom, ect.) that were characterized only costly in terms of total expenditures (in billions of dollars as hundreds as opposed to millions of lives) and the strong DUBIOUSNESS of the ideologues behind them. An interesting correlative to this is the DUBBING OF WARS, where a the trend of an increased level of abstraction can be observed.

What has lead to this situation? I'm not sure. There is a dearth of the man who believes, or a dearth of that which is believable? Is this all due to some Nietzschean impetus? Was the (philosophical) origin of this new species his (in)famous dirge in Zarathustra? And was this more intoned much later (and more succintly) by NMH in the song Someone Is Waiting, or was Jeff just singing about his girlfriend?

Other items include the trepidation I have recently begun to experience due to the arrival of meta-martyrdom that is implied by the current vacuum. What will be it's nature? How will it go about re-engendering martyrdom in the West? What will it give us to believe in that is worth dying for?

meta-martyrdom (def. pending)

Just this morning over a cup of coffee, I had a friend of mine (a Japanese female in her mid-40s) tell me that her マイブーム is trying to find all of the cameras that pepper the city: on trains, in the heads of dildos, in stations, on the street, webcams galore, built into the cell phone of every self-respecting non-technophile (there are no technophiles here really, since everyone is "up to speed"), and wherever else you can (and can't) imagine. I remember seeing some interesting posts to this effect on Roddy's and Jean's blogs the other day. Anyway, what struck me as interesting wasn't the world-wide proliferation of live cameras, but the way in which my friend was conducting her search in relation to the way the the cameras were being placed (i.e. random searching vs. systemic/non-systemic placement). Something in the turn of her phrases gave me the impression that such surveillance and the paranoia that it instills has taken the place (in functional terms) of what surely must have been felt by Thomas when he quotes Jesus as saying, "Lift up the stone, and you will find me there. Split the piece of wood, and I am there." But here the interesting thing is that the preemptive move here is one based in guilt/sin. In Tokyo (at least with folks not under 20), what's being played upon are feelings of shame/honor.
Take for example the subway in three different countries: France, Japan, and America.
In France (and you'll know this if you've ever been to Paris), there are a variety of formidable barriers and objects designed to impede those who would attempt to ride for free. Here I refer to various gates, snares, cameras, turnstiles, and so on which will only succeed in making the members of the bourgeois who aren't unethical enough (or poor enough, as ethics and poverty follow an inverse equation in France) even that much angrier when they are "tailgated" by a young kid in a hood with more "street cred" and actual credit in the bank. But it is a silent anger. The cops also look the other way, even though there are 2 or 3 in the area, some of them with assault rifles. The chase and the possibility of incuring physical harm isn't worth the risk, and they know it.
In America the problem is less complex. First of all, there are no subways.

So it is a loss of soul on the one hand, and a loss of face on the other; each are, in their own way, non-recuperative. (To be continued . . .)

2003.09.15 (Mon.)
here is neu std @ VAL
Midori w/Robert Duckworth (Here is new stud.)
Lozi(ARch) (He isn't really from Russia.)
open/start: 17:00
close : 22:00
entrance fee: 500 yen

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

"WWI" is the Wesley Willis tribute/remix project tentatively scheduled to be released on Tsunami-Addiction early this winter.

The deadline is coming up rapidly, but submissions are still being accepted. However, slots are quickly filling up, so if you are interested in this project, please read over the guidelines given below and contact me ASAP.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

R.

glitchslaptko@yahoo.co.jp
WWI project organizer
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SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

The submission guidelines are simple, in that each selected artist will choose a different track (tracks already reserved by participating artists are given below, along with contact info) by Mr. Willis to "treat" (remix, abuse, whatever). Other than this, there are no limits or restrictions of any kind whatsoever (length, genre, etc.).

If all of this leaves your feet dangling precariously over the gulf of freedom, then perhaps this quote by Whitman will keep you from going over the edge (or perhaps to give you just the push that you need).

Also, if you need a decent place to find out about the man and the songs/lycrics, try the following links.

obituary
songs
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LIST OF PARTICIPANTS

Roddy Schrock
"Casper the Homosexual Friendly Ghost"
roddys@thing.net

HYPO
[???]
mikemicrofono@infonie.fr

Antonin Gaultier/Digiki
"Wesley Willis"
gaultier@noos.fr

Robert Duckworth
"Cut the Mullet"
glitchslaptko@yahoo.co.jp

Midori Hirano
"Fuck With Me And Find Out"
repre_midori@hotmail.com

Brad Breeck
"I Whooped Batman's Ass"
bradbreeck@yahoo.com

Sunao Inami
"Oil Express"
webmaster@cavestudio.com

The Konki Duet (w/Special K. and friend)
[???]
93kumi@free.fr

(Your name here)

When Mr. Donne penned the lines "...any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankine; And therefore never send to know for whome the bell tolls; It tolls for thee" he never saw this one coming. To laugh or to cry? But I flounder, I cannot say that the death of this man has diminished me in any aspect. It did something else to me, but I don't know exactly what at this point.

Anyway, I wonder which one of the big three he was working for. What your guess?

Get the door. [Hit the floor.] It's Domino's. By the way, you can trade blackout stories for pizza on their cute little fucking webpage. OK, here is a story for you. Warning NYC kids, this one might hurt.

Better ingredients. Better Pizza. [Better duck.] Papa John's

Pizza Hut didn't have any cute catchphrases on it's webpage that I could hack.

Update! I just found out that he was working for a local pizza store. Go figure.