What our modern art tells us (1 Viewer)

Is it any wonder why, in our society, that billionaire BDSM seduction novels are such a hit, while violent teen pornography is also the most popular?

It's like men and women express what they really want to do through their media, while trudging along in a hopeless reality of beta males and missionary in the dark
 
Is it any wonder why, in our society, that billionaire BDSM seduction novels are such a hit, while violent teen pornography is also the most popular?

It's like men and women express what they really want to do through their media, while trudging along in a hopeless reality of beta males and missionary in the dark

Hell, and I was in such a great mood today! That all sounds rather bleak, perhaps a new girlfriend and finessing your repertoire a little may lighten your mood???

Haven't got the foggiest what a BDSM novel is?, are you referring to the recent 50 Shades of really, really bad writing.It was complete pants and totally sucked.Couldn't, get passed chapter 2 myself for laughing/crying.
 
Let's see: a 27 year old SELF MADE BILLIONAIRE who is also the most handsome man on earth, (all women turn their heads when he enters a room); who ALSO has mastered classical piano, flying jet planes, flying helicopters, cunnilingus (sp?)...and a myriad of other things that would take a normal person 20 years each to master (except cunnilingus); who has an absolutely insatiable appetite for extremely "dark" sexual rituals, yet becomes instantly smitten and then monogamous with a plane-jane ordinary college student.
It's bad writing from the perspective of a lonely woman imagining her dream lover.
And yes, the purported "kinky" stuff is just rote bullshit that any self-respecting teenager would have tried before they were done with middle-school.
 
Let's see: a 27 year old SELF MADE BILLIONAIRE who is also the most handsome man on earth, (all women turn their heads when he enters a room); who ALSO has mastered classical piano, flying jet planes, flying helicopters, cunnilingus (sp?)...and a myriad of other things that would take a normal person 20 years each to master (except cunnilingus); who has an absolutely insatiable appetite for extremely "dark" sexual rituals, yet becomes instantly smitten and then monogamous with a plane-jane ordinary college student.
It's bad writing from the perspective of a lonely woman imagining her dream lover.
And yes, the purported "kinky" stuff is just rote bullshit that any self-respecting teenager would have tried before they were done with middle-school.

So, you hated it right to the end:wb:. Didn't make it as far as the sex, so couldn't say,the writing was pitiful.
 
I didn't make it to the end. I made 3/4 of the way through the first book and was shaking my head the entire time. Even the sex scenes were less than memorable. The parts I remember the most vividly were the ones that a girlfriend would relay to me after she read it. I gave it my best shot though. Just wasn't enough there to keep me reading. The thing I remember most is that it became so predictable. Every time they fucked the guy had to first "rip open a celophane package" (condom), and I remember thinking to myself that this alone made the scenes seem so rote and repetitive that I couldn't even get my mind into the sex scene which followed. There was no rhythm to her writing.

That was her first deadly mistake. The other deadly mistakes were too numerous to mention.
 
Let's see: a 27 year old SELF MADE BILLIONAIRE who is also the most handsome man on earth, (all women turn their heads when he enters a room); who ALSO has mastered classical piano, flying jet planes, flying helicopters, cunnilingus (sp?)...and a myriad of other things that would take a normal person 20 years each to master (except cunnilingus); who has an absolutely insatiable appetite for extremely "dark" sexual rituals, yet becomes instantly smitten and then monogamous with a plane-jane ordinary college student.

I thought this was the plot summary for Iron Man?
 
I didn't make it to the end. I made 3/4 of the way through the first book and was shaking my head the entire time. Even the sex scenes were less than memorable. The parts I remember the most vividly were the ones that a girlfriend would relay to me after she read it. I gave it my best shot though. Just wasn't enough there to keep me reading. The thing I remember most is that it became so predictable. Every time they fucked the guy had to first "rip open a celophane package" (condom), and I remember thinking to myself that this alone made the scenes seem so rote and repetitive that I couldn't even get my mind into the sex scene which followed. There was no rhythm to her writing.
That was her first deadly mistake. The other deadly mistakes were too numerous to mention.

Actually, this is a very funny post. 3/4 of the book, shaking your head? That is a lot of rhythm.
 
"Ohhh My!!" I gasped!! "What a rapturous relief!!". I've been on a week or so long Quest to find the irony or humour in it, but yes,yes, I can see the point, I can certainly see the point now.(Sorry Otto, I thought it was my rather juvenile and lazy use of this:wb: thing, that inflamed you so.
It did set me thinking about the modern usage of 'emocions' to convey intended feelings rather than better choice of language. Perhaps future editions of books will look like this:
"It was the best of times:), it was the worst of times:(. (A Tale of Two Cities.Charles Dickens)
"By the pricking of my thumbs:oops:, something wicked:jesus:this way comes:eek: .(Act IV, scene 1, Macbeth,William Shakespeare).How much better does that look?
 
Is it any wonder why, in our society, that billionaire BDSM seduction novels are such a hit, while violent teen pornography is also the most popular?

It's like men and women express what they really want to do through their media, while trudging along in a hopeless reality of beta males and missionary in the dark

good post. to me that stuff is symptomatic of cognitive dissonance - when peoples' consciousness (and unconsciousness too I suppose) becomes scattered and pulled farther and farther from their center, they got no boundaries and become more and more confused and susceptible to ... well, the kind of garbage you mention. But where I disagree is that that crap expresses what they "really want to do." It's more like a pathetic compromise between (conspiracy theory alert!) what they've been programmed to do, and what helps them numb the pain for a while. To me there is a big difference between what people think they want (as expressed by their porn preferences for example) and what they really want (which may be buried so deep that it's not expressed at all).

freud at 6:30 am. fuck me. there's a ton of academic lingo and most of it makes me constipated, but the cognitive dissonance concept moves, man. again just my opinion sorry to be the bore :nw:

(except cunnilingus)

twenty years sounds about right ... at least, I was hoping it wasn't longer, since I'm at about year 17 right now8-))
 
You're gonna hate me for saying this. But at least Bukowski had his old man to beat German discipline into him. And if the ol' man's cruelty was predictable as clockwork, it gave Buk a sense of order. It gave him a sense of pride, too, like a manchild who'd survived a combination boot-camp and really crappy fate.

I talked to an MBA in creative writing grad the other day. I know. I know. But he had something valuable to say about Hunter S. Thompson's schooling as a journalist. No matter how blitzed on booze and drugs Thompson got, he had the fundamentals burnt into his brain: who, what, why, when, where and how. So he had form on the page to go along with his Kentucky Hillbilly pride which forbid domestication. A strong combination. And let me emphasize that Thompson wasn't a Modern American Individualist. He was an old fashioned hillbilly. Yes, a rebel.

Bukowski had depth of character. So did Thompson. Most artists aren't any deeper than popular culture, and that's why they're here today and gone tomorrow.
 
But at least Bukowski had his old man to beat German discipline into him. And if the ol' man's cruelty was predictable as clockwork, it gave Buk a sense of order. It gave him a sense of pride, too, like a manchild who'd survived a combination boot-camp and really crappy fate.

that's alot of bullshit to cram into 3 sentences.

well done.

ps - it's not a matter of hating you, just realizing that you're an idiot.
 
Hunter S. Thompson [...] wasn't a Modern American Individualist. He was an old fashioned hillbilly.
And what are we basing that characterization on? I assume you just pulled it out of your ass, since it's quite far removed from what I have read about Thompson, how he grew up and who he was.

You're 0 for 2 so far, and on a single post no less. You're going to have to improve your average or you'll never make it to the big show.
 
Critics. Critics. Critics. I understand, for one thing, that Thompson came from Louisville and that's not exactly Butcher Hollow or Pikeville. After after all, it hosts the Derby. And I understand that his dad was an insurance salesman and his mom was a librarian. So they were probably average bourgeois dorks and Southern Gentility wannabees. Probably, the thing Mr. and Mrs. Thompson feared most was being regarded as feral hillbillies.

But, like baldness, good manners often skips generations. And if Hunter had any recessive hillbilly in his blood, he could easily connect with the spirit of the hills and the faces of the mountain men coming into town to fuck, fight and frolic on the outskirts. In any case, I've always wondered why Thompson walked away from a job at Time Magazine. And why he said, "Thanks but no Thanks" to NYC. The only explanation I could, yes, pull out of my ass is that he saw more profit in playing the hillbilly card. The ace. The joker.

Maybe you'd rather I'd said, "Thompson's Southern Heritage..."
 
And let me emphasize that Thompson wasn't a Modern American Individualist. He was an old fashioned hillbilly. Yes, a rebel.

Don't think you need to emphasize it, as no-one thinks it. There's more evidence (I think) and I'm being subjective here (so hopefully he would approve) that he was an idealist, and believed that America was the great experiment where humanity could have proved itself to be 'better', by not following market mentality, survival of the fittest Individualism.

If you're using 'feral hillbilly' as a term of endearment. then I quite like it, as he seemed a wonderful strange mixture of slightly scary drug toting/gun toting, left wing, reactionary (possibly veering towards survivalist?) brilliant chronicler of America, his writing was fabulous, not sure if he later became or felt castrated (artistically) by his success, as it detracted from his ability to observe and chronicle.
 
You're gonna hate me for saying this. But at least Bukowski had his old man to beat German discipline into him. And if the ol' man's cruelty was predictable as clockwork, it gave Buk a sense of order. It gave him a sense of pride, too, like a manchild who'd survived a combination boot-camp and really crappy fate.

I talked to an MBA in creative writing grad the other day. I know. I know. But he had something valuable to say about Hunter S. Thompson's schooling as a journalist. No matter how blitzed on booze and drugs Thompson got, he had the fundamentals burnt into his brain: who, what, why, when, where and how. So he had form on the page to go along with his Kentucky Hillbilly pride which forbid domestication. A strong combination. And let me emphasize that Thompson wasn't a Modern American Individualist. He was an old fashioned hillbilly. Yes, a rebel.

Bukowski had depth of character. So did Thompson. Most artists aren't any deeper than popular culture, and that's why they're here today and gone tomorrow.

garbage. from what I've seen you're long on 'effete' and short on 'intellectual.' Thompson was a voyeur, as evidenced both by his preference for hallucinogens and his 'journalistic' m.o. No substance there. Kerouac also had no substance, but in a different way. Kerouac was always running away, treating dreams like they're real, hiding out, etc. Not hiding out like a vigilante with guns drawn, though, hiding out like a spoiled child, just trying to 'have fun' and 'live the dream,' careering here and there, 'digging' shit. hemingway, too. hob nobbing here and there, europe la tee da. being able to throw a punch doesn't mean you're not all talk ... sure those guys all had some decent lines, but, like this dead-end culture of ours more generally, the substance wasn't there. the 'fundamentals' that you talk about in my mind that translates to the fundamental substrate of bullshit.

just my personal opinion but i wouldn't pass a day in a kerouac or thompson or hemingway forum. glad you brought thompson up in this thread, though, because he fits it like a glove. just my opinion
 

Yes, "feral hillbilly" is a term of endearment.

I don't know how left-wing Thompson was. I think that he was just surfing the anti-establishment zeitgeist. My sense is that he would've agreed with Nietzsche who said that if the edifice is rotten then push it over. So Thompson wasn't a conservative but that doesn't necessarily mean he was a lefty-idealist-utopian. Like Bukowski, his view of human nature forbid it.

Ken Kesey is another guy who was never completely co-opted by popular culture and the egalitarian left. He retreated to the family farm in Oregon. There was nothing conservative about him, but I don't think he was a "progressive". That's why he remains suspect.

Of course, today's artists are suckers for virtual reality. So are their audiences. Bukowski, Thompson and Kesey are subversive because they don’t represent “man” on his way to being a Global Citizen and blah, blah, blah. They aren’t generic superheroes. They are untamed parochials. And that’s why I love ‘em.
 
I don't know how left-wing Thompson was. I think that he was just surfing the anti-establishmentzeitgeist.My sense is that he would've agreed with Nietzsche who said that if the edifice is rotten then push it over. So Thompson wasn't a conservative but that doesn't necessarily mean he was a lefty-idealist-utopian. Like Bukowski, his view of human nature forbid it.
Don't most of us start out as lefty-utopian-idealists to some degree before life, experience and exposure to the worst of human traits sets in? I think that Thompson became disillusioned very quickly even as he was 'living the dream' of counter-culture. My regret is; that he didn't write more fiction, he was a beautiful writer, even if you disagreed with his viewpoints, you can't deny his skill with words. The essays on American life and politics, will they last as long as fiction would outside the enclosures of universities, for political science or journalism students?

They are untamed parochials.And that’s why I love ‘em.
- Untamed Yes - Parochial No.

I love 'em too.What's not to love, see below:
hunter-s-thompson-rum-dairy.jpg
 
Just to show a bit of balance, a less flattering image of Thomson: done for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, by his friend and frequent collaborator English Artist Ralph Steadman (they first met for the very famous Kentucky Derby piece.) Their relationship over the years is fascinating and lovely, with the reckless, acerbic Thompson and the very modest, gentle non drug taking Steadman. Below are excerpts from an interview with Steadman recently this year, it made me laugh anyway:

The Independant: Life in the old bird yet:Ralph Steadman on Hunter S Thompson, Jack Nicholson's buns and his love for extinct " boids".


SUNDAY 13 JANUARY 2013

When I spoke to Ralph recently," Johnny Depp tells me, "he seemed shocked when I told him how much Hunter adored him. But he did. Hunter fucking worshipped Ralph. Of course he was never going to let him know that. Hunter loved him and he thought his work was – as it is – absolute genius."

If you worked at your best when mentally ravaged to the point of collapse, Steadman would discover, then Hunter Thompson's was a useful number to have in your contacts book. When the pair were sent to report on the America's Cup race at Newport, Rhode Island, the artist began to feel seasick aboard their yacht, and asked if he could have one of the tablets of psilocybin (a hallucinogen similar in effect to LSD) that Thompson had been swallowing "like Smarties". An hour later, Percy V Bradshaw's former pupil was in a rowing boat with an aerosol in his hand, seeing red dogs in the ocean, urging Thompson, whose shoes had gone overboard, to row faster so that he could spray the words "Fuck the Pope" on the hull of the Australian challenger, a 12m racing yacht named Gretel II.

Challenged by a police launch, Thompson detonated his stash of naval flares, setting fire to several boats in the harbour, and the two journalists escaped.

The following day, Steadman landed at New York's LaGuardia airport, where he entered the baggage hall still hallucinating, with no shirt, shoes or socks. ("I told him it was common for people to wander around New York barefoot," Thompson wrote later. "How would he know? He was British. I told him the really fastidious ones wore black socks. Maybe he didn't believe me, but by then I had his shoes on my feet.")
 
I've been reading Rabelais and he plays with the latin quotes. For every inane thing that he says, he has a latin quote from a noble Roman or a pious church scholar. So I had latin on my mind when wrote “esprit de corps”.

Okay, it’s French. I fucked-up. And I made the dizzy statement that “I’m better read that Bukowski”. Which meant to imply a High Bukowskian Truth: scholarship doesn’t make the man. Niether does psuedo-scholarhip which is my forte along with some authentic this and that. Basically, I read Bukowski when I need a corrective dose of raw sincerity. Otherwise, my mind is flush with operatic arias. I like the voice-in-the-wilderness novels. The more vainglorious the better. But there has to be a note of truth and, like I said, Bukowski is the tuning fork and the Big Daddy of All Correctives to a runaway imagination.

A man should never take his own measure. Are the dues I’ve paid long or short? Am I a cunt? Am I a well-read guy for a Detroit Polak? Am I an authetic veteran of relentless clusterfucks? I think that the problem with modern art is the lack of personal experience. In which case a painter or writer takes an off-the-shelf stance recommended by the market, the fashion and the herd. Instead of the stance that’s all his own. Tested in anonymity.
 
Hey JJ, maybe you should just have a wee lie down before you hurt yourself? Stop being so hard on yourself. So what if you got something wrong in you post (it's not a shooting offence I don't think), there's nothing wrong with having a ' runaway imagination' maybe you just need to slow down and perhaps also do a bit more reading of your topic/subject before writing about them (e.g. Hunter S Thompson). Reading your posts is like being on a runaway train, but, like sex in the back of a car: it's too fast, awkward and vaguely unsatisfactory, no doubt you will get better.
 
So cynical! the show pony prose and hyperbole is just youthful exuberance, he'll calm down, either that or require sedating;now I feel rude for saying that. Hope you're ok with that JJPrzbyski?
 
I think that the problem with modern art is the lack of personal experience.

This would've been a good post. But even then it's a cliche and flat out wrong to suppose that experience makes the man any more than themelessly and restlessly reading a bunch of bullshit. what kind of experience is lacking??
 
Love. Love. Love. Hate. Hate. Hate. It’s just a matter of bobbing and weaving through it.

I should tell you about my boxing match in South Florida where the fat-asses in the seats yelled, “Get in the ring, sissy.” I’m sure that they bet against me. After my bout, I saw a White Golden Gloves champ named Jimmy Daniels knock-out a Black Golden Gloves champ named Tony Foreman. A month later, the victor killed his girlfriend. The last bout of the night featured a bozo who danced into the ring. Shadow-boxing. Bowing to the crowed. You could tell right away that he was psychotic. When the bell rang, he wouldn’t go near his opponent. At every brush of the gloves he’d back-off, shadow-box and raise his hands like the Heavyweight Champ of the Universe. Finally, the ref stopped the farce and the psycho hugged his opponent as if they’d just been through a toe-to-toe war.

I was wondering, by the way, why Daniels was so glum after his victory as he shared Pepsi-Cola with his dark haired girlfriend at the concession stand. I’d met he and his dad while getting my hands taped. His dad was a Golden Gloves champ too, and one of those brutally handsome types. When Jimmy busted out of jail, his dad hired the getaway plane in the Everglades . The cops nabbed them both at the last second. You could tell that they were very close, the way that dad taped junior’s hands.
 
Love. Love. Love. Hate. Hate. Hate. It’s just a matter of bobbing and weaving through it.
Now that's a pretty good line for you, young JJPrzybylski, (the absence of vowels here is pretty daunting by the way). Liked the lack of overblown, blowsy, dripping with bling grammar. Is it yours or did you pinch it??
 

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