The faceless books
by Matt Worley
I thought I'd have my first novel written before I was twenty-five. I had to get it done by then because I was going to die at twenty-seven. You see, I was Jim Morrison incarnate, and that was the expiration date.
And then, instead, I did a magazine (which was not a novel, but a big, strange collection of writing and graphics). And by twenty-six, I was a former publisher. I realized I wasn't going to die any time soon, either. Probably not a rock star reborn.
In four years after graduating from college, the prevailing winds went from recession (slighter than the one at the end of the last decade, but big enough to make it hard to get any kind of good job) to boom boom late nineties. We were about to take off for Mars in 1999.
Music signaled the change in the early 90s. Way more than any other artistic medium at the time. Sure there were lots of new writers and scads of magazines (desktop publishing made a mini-publishing boom), but music was a driving force. And culture changed.
But in the 00s, it wasn't the music. It was the delivery of music. It became about the device. The content, which AOL seemed to think was the big deal in 1999, was just something to add or subtract from the device.
Everything became a ghost. You don't own anything. And what you own has no physical shape. But it's on something physical.
I'm just looking for a little revolution. And what I've seen doesn't seem like one. Having all of your music on a little square of glass and metal doesn't mean shit if the music isn't telling you anything. And it's just dance dance into oblivion.
Maybe I'm getting old. Okay, I'm old.
There's no currency in creativity. When everyone is an artist, there are no artists.
You can write and publish your writing and it doesn't cost much of anything. You can be a filmmaker, a photographer, a musician, a critic and a whore. All in the space of fifteen minutes. Everything you want to do can be served up to the world with the click of a mouse.
Of course, no one cares about what you're doing. Because they're doing the same thing and want the same validation. And there is only so much mutual validation to go around. Facebook pages are littered with the cat pictures and crappy poetry we used to see on posters at school.
Repost this if you feel sad sometimes. Or if you know someone who died from (insert disease). And if not, you have no real feelings and are a robot, and I'm going to defriend you.
Please defriend me. Because I'm lazy, and I'll only do it if you post one of those really stupid anti-Obama pictures (which is pretty much just saying you don't like a Black President).
Reading about up and comers, there's always this statement: "and then he/she uploaded it to YouTube and fifty million views later...". But fifty million views doesn't make a legend. Because most of us consume and shit these phenomenons with the speed of lightening.
I just want to feel something real.
I see this a lot. Because none of this feels like a connection. We're more connected than ever, but we never talk any more. Even with all of our fucking phones.
It's all a laugh and a joke and a picture of someone passed out at the end of the night.
What exactly is the point of all this crap? Because it doesn't feel like a life.
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