Subliminal and Subluminal Conversations.

From past experience, I know there's little chance I'll actually be able to recover and rewrite this post from memory. They say, that a complete rewrite like this can only help to improve the original work. But I've always hated them, and their bullshit advice. Nevertheless, let's try this again...

Unfortunately, the site has gone the way of stale melba toast as of late--certainly thin and dry, but more soggy than crisp. I could blame this on the recent confluence of graduation, the planning and execution of the after-party, and the bloody (and still unfinished) Aristotle paper I've been working on, but instead, I'll just remind everyone that I never have been very good at forming habits (good or bad.)

My favorite explanation is that I'm just a lazy shit, but I've been told that self-assesments of this kind are counterproductive.

Consequently, I'm left thinking about the most recent refrain muttered by my ever-present chorus of insomnia inducing whispers (and also about alliteration as an avenue of anxiety articulation.) They've (yup, another 'they') been chatting about how incredibly long it takes me to accomplish things, and how nothing I undertake ever accurately reflects what I intended. Wookie, had he not deleted his post (tsk..tsk..shame...), might suggest that this sounds characteristically defeatist. He's probably right, but take this site for instance: I designed the "n/a" logo some 7-odd years ago. Originally, the I was going to set about creating a sort of repository and community for artistic expressions of all sorts (hence the "nous/aisthesis" line in the blurb.) Now, obviously, it is something much less: a kind of self-obsessed public conversation about nothing of real consequence. I really should do something about that--figure out a way to be more relevant and interesting--but one has to sleep to dream.

Keep in mind as well that I still don't have a real understanding of why I'm writing this blog. Maybe by tossing these words into the æther I secretly hope to molest the Fates in an appropriately inappropriate manner. I doubt it. In fact, it sounds a little too much like a certain essentially unemployed new age arm-pushing, palm-pinching, head-rubbing wanna-be guru twink that many of the local crew know and try to avoid like the karmic plague he claims we're all carrying. Maybe, with luck and guile, I too can take on such a career upon my arrival in Boston. Sadly, however, I have a feeling that such cluckery only goes-over here in Boulder...and maybe Berkeley...and parts of New Mexico...and anywhere in the midwest so long as you cast it as evangelism or prophecy. Don't forget to ask for donations for "services rendered."

Of course, the medium isn't just the message, it is also the massage.

For whatever reason, It all just makes me want to reanimate McLuhan's corpse and get his updated read on things; like major news outlets (and then some) paying and/or giving attention to any idiot with a blog because they've (apparently) grown tired of actually doing the work of journalism. More importantly, imagine the revenue potential!

From day one we could televise the entire event! The reanimation of his corpse. The death of at least three researchers and several of his devoted followers in the days that follow. Eventually, after he's had his fill of bra-a-a-a-ins, we begin to catalog his thoughts and remarks as his soulless, but camera-friendly shell aimlessly wanders the United States oozing new McLuhanisms and maggots. Hell, we could turn it into a series--a reality TV series! And not just that, but if we made sure to record all of it digitally (and why wouldn't we) it could be marketed as a self-reflexive meta-reality reality television series WITH ZOMBIES!!! Now that's edu-tainment.