How To Avoid Being ‘The Public’.

Posted: February 9, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I am about to begin detailing a totem pole with a chisel and mallet, and I have three reasons for doing this.

The first two are short and blunt.

  1. I’ll get some blisters, which is masculine, which is attractive to a certain degree of woman, which is a feeling which is just swell.
  2. I get a totem pole out of it, and therefore get a phallus shaped thing with which to out-do my other phallus shaped things (such as that actual phallus I have- had it for years).
  3. This, and such acts like this, are a tremendous way by which to avoid the label of, and very act of becoming, ‘the public’.

The third one is, I believe, the ‘nub’ of the matter. Possibly  ‘the nub’. Maybe even the ‘knub’.

Let me explain why this is essential. Essential like music. Music called ‘knub’.

You don’t want to be the public. Even children don’t want to be the public and they’re the people that the idea is aimed at.

The only people that want to be the public are paranoid stoners that fear that somehow they’re a criminal and now they just want to be back to being part of the public- watching Countdown before the ‘just-because-you’re-paranoid’ police kick your door down and don’t let you finish your cereal.

This kind of collectiveness is what often comes from fear.

That’s why it’s aimed at children.

Because children are not encouraged to do things differently and it’s very easy to scare them. And they have a tendency to do things differently and are brave.

Some people feel a need to put a stop to that. Largely because it’s different, and they are scared of that.

Maybe that could go on the totem pole. Needs an image though. Maybe…a  baby…eating a snake. Perfect. That’s brave, and fairly hip. ‘What an infant!’

I feel that another way to avoid, or regress from, your transformation into ‘the public’ is to indulge heavily in those aspects of life that you will not see on television. Such as conversation.

Be interested, and you will become interesting. Become interesting, and that’s about all you need in life apart from a small fire, a sharp stick, a thick book and a good-sized infant to eat away all encompassing snakes.

This is most unlike ‘the public’- the opinion of which is sought only in bulk. What one of ‘the public’ feels is of little consequence, whereas- on mass- these ants will topple over that much detested (at least amongst ants) rubber-tree plant.

You go walking, or indeed move in any way, and talk to strangers as you go. Your day will then improve. Even if you gained a little strain, or perhaps some woe, at least now it’s a variety of woe that you might be more impressive to those listening- as you list your recent activities to your ‘even-more-recent acquaintances’, encountered via a short stroll.

Today, my ears were sieged by the dialogue of one man who suddenly realised that I would be empathic to the point of sympathy as he let me know about how his headlights were wonky and he had to be patient to straighten them.

This man was one of those men with whom one feels a need to reach for the chalk and board to get across your point of “Good morning”. Yet he somehow saw in me something that perhaps suggested that I too had recent or historical laments with my own headlights, or the headlights of a loved one or work colleague. Or maybe he was just looking to gain a little of that sweet bag of mixed nuts known as ‘conversation’.

Nutty.

I agreed with him in everything he said, guaranteed him that I would be patient too, and patted him on the shoulder whilst assuring him that everything about this was normal and that all he had to do was keep doing what he was doing, if perhaps only in an alternative shopping aisle.

As I left with my sushi, a cat I had endured a disagreement with the night before crossed my path, to which we exchanged similar noises (I’m not sure which of us was copying the other- I like to think that I was the trend setter here)and I gave him my fresh salmon.

The cat smelled it, bit it, took it and then ran away with many glances back with a look in its eyes that let out its sheer terror at the idea that I might possess the audacity to attempt to reclaim my own fresh salmon.

 I did have the audacity, audacity in spades, but I thought I’d leave it there in the hope that, at the next encounter, we might trade some more-conciliatory noises, as well as some more fresh fish.

If all of this hadn’t happened then I would be sad and with two less stories to tell.

Now, this man and this cat are not ‘the public’.

One is a cat, and the other is a ‘madman’.

Good.

Whereas being a cat is no longer an option (since you’ve been a human being for SO long now), the act of ‘madness’ is a viable choice for those that wish to know a little more about the world around them, by assuming there is more to know of a person than their job, address and make of car.

Acts of madness.

Living in a super-tribe of hundreds, thousands and millions, means that people are unable to persist with their natural instincts of knowing intimately every member of what should be your village-sized community of a few dozen people at most.

We can’t even do this at our places of work since too many people equates to too little communication. And that’s why people shoot other people they haven’t met yet.

Now, one may find oneself a niche group of people suited to their particular styles, outlooks and shared history (friends)- something that is increasingly easier with the routes of the internet, but I have a recommendation for dealing with this whilst without friends and away from a computer.

Make it…a little more…funky.

Talk and do. Ask questions to everybody and let them know about your day (but make it funny otherwise they’ll distinctly move further away).

Always help people that are next to you, whether they appear to need it or not. And now, knowing this, when offered help, or when a stranger to you seeks to be one no longer- embrace what they’re doing and be, as we all should, a little more funky.

By decimating the lack of communication bridges with a Golden Gate sized mother-fucker of a conversation starter, you will eliminate the public, and be introduced to a person.

Gather quickly their name and intentions, share yours too, and then make with speed to their destination and help lessen their load and increase the shared information.

This is essentially the best of the internet- without computers.

One can also use totem poles for this.

Carving in the phallus, or perhaps the now famous tree-graffiti symbol I espoused of: “AAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH” should have the ultimate announcement of “SOMEONE’S HERE”. “And we’ve got totem poles”.

Find out more about this here: https://samsywoodsy.com/2013/11/06/how-many-as-is-appropriate/

By sticking up this carved log from the Earth to the sky- you are sticking out the fact that you are here, not one of the public.

“No public here”.

These, and similar acts (meaning anything that the people that refer to us as ‘the public’ don’t expect), are methods by which to avoid becoming ‘the public’, and I recommend them.

Don’t fall into the kind of collectiveness that the term ‘the public’ refers to.

Instead, take part in another collectiveness- but make this one with which you walk down the street and get involved with people, safe in the knowledge that this person is no longer the public. They are now Steve, and Steve knows an excruciating amount about mushrooms, and soon you will too.

You can refer mushroom issues to your good buddy Steve now. Because you spoke.

Be interested and you will become interesting.

Eventually you might even be able to thrill yourself.

My totem pole is unquestionably going to be phallic, and that is the only kind of classiness that we all need.

My totem pole is classy.

How’s yours?

Sam

I Wish This Was Written On A T-Shirt.

Posted: November 1, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I swear I thought of this in the 90’s.

However, I (and probably you too) are likely not the first to have this idea. Most of us alive today weren’t having ideas in the 70’s- when some of the best stuff came our way (the floppy-disk…timeless).

My plan was to write a statement (or at least something that would be interpreted as such) on the front of a plain white T-shirt, perhaps with an accompanying picture. It was essential that the sentence would be taken as a statement, if only extremely personally- to the author/wearer.

The idea was another one that I laid back on my laurels for- leading to its distinct lack of materialisation. You probably didn’t notice that this idea of mine never bore fruit, largely because it had nothing to do with fruit- unless it was on a T-shirt and being witty. There’s a market in making objects appear witty. Just take toilet seats- everyone gets the joke. Or telephones.

First of all, there was the name of the company label. You know- the one you’ve never heard of.

‘None Of A Kind’…..oooh.

These T-shirts are so unique that even they aren’t like them.

There would be nothing like this, and that was the point. Repetition is death in culture- something the easily bored appreciate greatly- once. A repeated statement is listened to, but dull. That’s why they change them.

Then there was what was to be the goal of every piece of produce produced. Let extreme relativity be the essence of the output.

Originality was being moral, a good thing, whilst also making these T-shirts ones that were easy to kill was another.

The idea of killing the T-shirt was harsh, but would mean that the one-time statement could be let out for a temporary-while, allowed to fade from the linen and out of the mind, having done its part, and leaving a gloriously stained canvas all over your chest. Non-permanent ink was a favourite tool, whilst permanent ink also did well because they are bollocks and not in a good, permanent way. We were going to kill the fashion and start over. Naturally.

Tattoos just can’t do this. They take themselves too seriously, and often too shitly.

I understand that this might be a common undertone in the ethos of many other companies- but truly: ‘Allow not one shit-bit’ was something to throw at the wall until it stopped bouncing back. Then again, maybe the ‘bouncing back’ (here meaning- the return of unsightly ideas and repetition) would fire up the engines of the artist, thus equating to an artist ready for whatever might come to them next.

The problem with the tattoo stain is that, whilst being permanent is beautiful in its way, it has a flaw in that beauty. The problem with being permanent is that it can last too long. You’ve probably noticed. You’ve probably been noticing for a long time.

‘None Of A Kind’ was going to be like beach art- it would leave us alone when it was done. Art that would bugger off when you were done with it. This also depended on the month- the sweat of July would eradicate nicely if you let it.

You don’t need to be rich to have an original ‘None Of A Kind’. Let’s be honest- we really can’t appreciate how tough the rich have it because you’re just an average person born to death whilst hopefully wearing a super-cool T-shirt. Aside from hoping your crops grow, what more could you ask for?

Jeez I hope you’re crops do well this harvest. I’m sure that’s weary on your mind. Crops- got to love them.

Also that you birth only males.  I would never wish upon you a legacy of daughters.

Ok, so may your loins only bear sons, may your crops be luscious and fruitful (and the same goes for your sons) and I hope your T-shirts are super cool. I don’t think I even need to suggest you have a nice day- that’s hardly the point. Having a nice day might be one of the worst things that happen to you. A super cool T-shirt; well done….well done.

The price of one white T-shirt, a permanent marker, preferably black and then the mere price of workmanship, although the best part of this was that you’d be doing this yourself. No cost of workmanship, and an extremely personal or appropriate message, this was awesome. A brand name that was to be taken, sabotaged by the individual and therefore successful- you can understand that this whole idea was probably too theoretical and unlikely to be initiated from the get-go. Whatever a ‘get-go’ might be.

‘Graffiti that follows you to work’- was another way of looking at it.

The moral message of graffiti is to alter your environment in severe contrast to advertising and grey corporate bullshit. This is why graffiti is colourful. Doing this, being colourful and righteous from the neck to the belt, meant that your statement of the day could adorn yourself rather than a building, would lead to an extremely low-risk of arrest, and could go with you around the corner.

Remember- it’s not the boring wall, it’s the shitty neighbours. Be a good neighbour by wearing an always-original ‘None Of A Kind’ and we’ve all won.

I really, really wish I’d actually done this. No one’s fault but mine that I didn’t. But I will also say: ‘Fuck the nineties’. That’s better.

If you can guess the moral of my writing today then I recommend that you take up the advice yourself. The moral is: start a revolutionary T-shirt company to initiate the global phenomenon of ‘None Of A Kind’.

You will make no money.

You will get no credit.

But you might just get a cool T-shirt out of it.

Super cool.

Sam.

The Evolution of the Vampire in Culture.

Posted: January 2, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Before we look at Vampires in culture, we have to realise that literature is not inspired only by other literature, for in the culture of our time- a book can be inspired by a film, and a film can be inspired by the preceding culture. Nothing wrong with that. That’s how things have always been, essentially. Stephenie Meyer (‘Twilight’ author) herself states that she wrote the series whilst seeing it in her head as though it was a movie.

However, the first vampire of the screen, and perhaps one of the more horrific, was the ultimate and grotesque ‘Nosferatu’- a terrifying and silent presence that was the immediate benchmark for scaring the good grief out of people in the audiences around the globe. This was Vampirism’s, and indeed Horror’s, most remembered early film pieces.

But let’s go right back to the beginning of vampires in literature. Not so far back as to take note that they were born from the mythology of a people telling tales of unholy beast-like things, but I guess I’ve just done that, so we’ll carry on into literature.

This is important, owing to where the genre of vampire fiction has ended up, particularly considering Twilight. Lord Byron, of literature, mythology and the side of a can of ‘Relentless’, is considered to have been the inspiration for the original vampire of literature- ‘The Vampyre’ specifically, making the nocturnal neck biters an utter ink-incarnation of romanticism. Unbearably beautiful, withdrawn and brooding, moonlight-pale (ironically owing to ‘cure’ of blood-letting), the panache vampire was short-lived in popular culture, till something similar rose from the pit in the form of that iconic identity; and it had a cape.

This is the vision of a vampire indulged in by the Halloween-ers each October, the standard of Vampirism: slick hair, cape, fangs and, of course, pale. This is all thanks to the hugely popular cultural offering of Bram Stoker. And so from there, Vampires have become an aspect present as a character or metaphor in mass culture, rather than mere mythology.

Here, the evolution to ‘Twilight’ becomes clearer in its roots, but it is still a great leap from the evil and emotionless character drawing blood from the throat of a (typically) white-dressed virgin on a cold night in an alleyway, all the way to the high-school setting being the transformed castle of a misfit that no-one can possibly understand and isn’t good at sports.

By this, I am referring to the manner in which the teen-drama has penetrated the genre like nothing else has ever been, even to the extent of spawning near-identical television series such as ‘True-Blood’ and ‘Vampire Diaries’. Though all these share the same teen-focus that fuels them, and makes the box-office intake immense. It is the latter point that is most important here, as its box-office success is of such substance owing to the inspiration it received from movies.

Take, for example, ‘Lost Boys’, in which pretty boys go through the trials of teenage life, avoiding social situations and stakes. Modernised. Appealing to the young. A perfect breeding ground for what would follow a few decades later.

But why teenagers? Thinking  led me to the revelation that the link between the vampire and teenagers is what might be the most blatant aspect of them both. Nothing can ‘brood’ quite like a teenager. The need to stand out/away from the crowd of people being ‘pathetically’ happy is in abundance with the teenage population of every population. The premise of the idea is that most teenagers actually have no reason to be outside of the norm- they are very average owing to being essentially still children and therefore rather dull- the opportunity to escape from the awkward reality of adolescence and for an hour and half just pretend that there is a good reason to be moody is…bliss.

And this, noticed by the regrettably  talented people that write and produce these new vampire stories, is only too easy to achieve, particularly when this idea is twinned with another of being able to have a beautiful cottage for absolutely no reason (see the latest ‘Twilight’ movie.

But ultimately, I must note that the reason that Vampire literature and films are the way they are is owing to very simple key business equation. Find the audience that is similar, or make the product similar. And now here we are. But it’s not a bad thing- as the culture is simply extending, though more for profitable reasons that artistic, but then the greatest films and books of all time wouldn’t have been made if they hadn’t had an invested interest.

So now we have Twilight, enjoyed by millions, but as well as this we have another aspect added to the culture. We now have something to mock, hate, and hold as a standard of what we don’t appreciate in culture. If it weren’t for this we wouldn’t have a low-point to keep ourselves from.

I’m not going to watch it again though; no matter how much she wants to.

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