Another massive corporate disrupt has shuttered down to a footnote in history. The Big yellow and blue box store that offered so many little boxes of happiness, cheaper than the movies and the perfect date to end in your favor. What most strikes me was the marketing, how do you make it a blockbuster night, google it, and have a coke. The relentless significance of your time being defined by corporate America. My weekends have never been warrior so movie night has kinda been my repose from the city stomping I do, but the result is the same (Thank Heavens, it's time to unwind.) Entertainia has evolved though, and I had to disable my netflix account for awhile at least because I just kept marathoning my way through series, and my 2 hour night becomes a couple of weekends where I am completely imersed, and I became worried that my creative output was stuttering from all the options and all the self-inflicted catching up I had to do? Make it a netflix weekend I guess became culturally norm. I started having awful nightmares after I locked in to a junket of 3 seasons of Dexter's murderous rage vigilante. But as this streaming occurs I am reminded how mighty Blockbuster and Tower Records and Sears has been, but our taste changes and like it or not the planned novelty and eventually obsolescence of radios, and television, and taxis, all lead forever onward to more footnotes to history. Whatever I can claim to be a part of by way of entertainment and technology is but a ghost on a sandy beach. Like the Romans to the British, to Americans and back to the
Chinese.... Can you take comfort in this wheel of death to anything that has a moment in the sun?
I'm trying
not freak out even when I lost my job for no real reason on the 1st day of Mercury Retrograde. I calmly skipped into all my social plans and even with no real solution I wobbled my way forward because there is a zen in my bones that has settled from a lifetime of calamity. Also I found the most stupendously well suited companion, in a fervor of bubbles sugar sex and magic that resulted in his rigorously avoiding me. Le Sigh- unfolding that shadow of do we not all want to be happy? Cuddle up on a wintry night to dinner and a movie? The simplified task of making your life beautiful in your work, your relationships, and in your food and your sex? Do we not all need comfort and support? Did I not fit that bill? Communicating gratitude in a sparkling moment flickering away. These are the Hunger Games I guess. Each comfort we take in each other and in our stories is a look away from solving any of the problems we face. One day WalMart will also be a footnote...
Required Viewing :
I made this for my mobile apps as I am awkwardly straddling the design of less with more for better.
I get so sick of stuff though. My love / hate relationship with the everything of creation, the movies, the books, the clothes, the music, the toys, and yet my inner monk sits patiently by the river waiting for me to let go.
This is my new soothing zen force: not surprisingly I want one. Yeash. Trapped like a trap in a trap.
On the another note Lily Allen has offered up an extraordinary quandary of making an anthem of a song with the most uninspired video that reinforces the very essence of what she is doggedly trying to expose? (My Kingdom for some authenticity)
for your consideration:
I myself might have highlighted who really does twerking at zumba class, or the girl working at Starbucks for tips when a stripper comes in and pays for her 5$ coffee in 1s. Or maybe something like this:
or this:
My life is a blur of parties and beautiful people and ideas and making the best, but I still curl up in my little shoebox and long for the something I can never keep.
