Sometimes I think that all the time I think the same things come from the same places, and it becomes jaded and stale. I find myself wanting to create a lot of things that are eerily similar to something that already exists, but then I came to the realization that instead of trying to copy these already existing things, I might as well just steal them. I mean, no idea is original, so why not steal all the good ones and take credit for them? It seems like an easy concept, I don’t know why nobody has thought of this before… Oh, wait. Is this an original idea? “I don’t know, I wouldn’t work with people to do things. I would just collect things from the internet. It’s there. It’s out there you just have to find it, you know.”
WELCOME TO BULLY MAGAZINE I don’t own any rights to any of these images or content. Sue me.*
*Please don’t sue me. 3
Media needs things to say and people want to be told what to do, they think that we have the secret. So we’re selling illusion and glamour, and everybody who works in this industry knows that it’s not necessarily true. I don’t think that fashion is art. You don’t? I do, and I think the designers I work with would be really destroyed if people didn’t see them as artists, because all of the designers from Vivienne Westwood to Paco Rabanne I think truly consider themselves artists. They’re artists in that they’re creative. They’re creative people. And I think that some fashion is art. But most is not. 1 I always tell them [the artists] not to look at each other’s work, not to do peergroup learning, not to think that the person on the left knows what they’re doing because you’re insecure. Technically they’re all insecure because they’re all creative people, and all creative people are insecure no matter what they may say on the outside. But, of course, it all goes in one ear and out the other fucking ear and before you know it, they’re all doing exactly the fucking same work! It’s the search for harmony that matters,
to make objects better when they’re grouped together. I try to give them a better place and bring them to the attention of people. To make people live in a better way, that’s the important thing. 2 I have made some sort of personal investment, years back, with certain people I thought were very talented and with which I shared similar aesthetics and a certain vision of things. I feel that in many respects we grew together and established a language as well as a way of working that will never be surpassed by someone new that would just drop in. 3 Art is a serious issue, but serious doesn’t mean you have to make a serious face when contemplating this situation. Art is about questioning rules, the world and about enjoying and sharing. The problem of our art world is that it looks at itself too often as academics and philosophers studying and reading theory. But the reason why people are finally attracted to the art world is definitely not only for its academic side, but for the joy of being part of a unique cultural moment. 4
will have complete confidence in my ability to make money. I write everything down, and when I see it all laid out, then things become obvious. 5 What we’ve found out, of course, is that most designers don’t have the mental agility (or the discipline) of someone like Karl Lagerfeld to do more than one thing well. And what was wrong, anyway, with doing one thing exceptionally well? Experience now rules – and what is experience but the slow evolution of time and understanding? 6 Balenciaga never gave an interview. Martin Margiela never spoke to anyone. He kept a very low profile. He made a choice about who he was going to be, what kind of designer. Are you going to be the thing you want to be, or are you going to be something else? 7
I just always worked. And I always spent my money. Even now, I spend most of it. I’ve always had and always
BON No. 18 A/W 2010-11 Acne Paper No. 11 Winter 2010-11 3 Industrie No. 2 4 Acne Paper No. 10 Summer 2010 5 Gentlewoman No. 2 A/W 2010 6 A Magazine No. C 7 Self Service No. 33 A/W 2010 2
RO UND TABL E
An all-encompassing discussion that has been directly sourced from a myriad of publications, but thanks to Bully, now exists where it rightfully belongsó amongst friends.
Cathy Horyn put it eloquently in saying, ìAre you going to be the thing you want to be, or are you going to be something else?î
DEATH IS ALWAYS THE WINNER
CACTUS MAKES PERFECT
SCA LPER SCUM fuck you, scalpers. holy shit. this here is just to say that we were more than taken aback and surprised about the speed of ticket sales for the april 2nd msg gig, as well as the effectiveness of scalper pieces of fucking shit at getting their hands on said tickets before fans could, and it’s knocked us on our asses. no—we didn’t have a smart paperless ticketing system in place, and no—we didn’t have the pre-sale worked out very well, but this is simply because we’ve never sold anything out so quickly in our lives, and certainly never sold out anything as big as msg. i personally thought i was being bold in suggesting to our manager that we might sell it out “in 34
10 days”. that was my bold claim. everyone laughed at me. it’s us and liquid liquid. that’s it. we had meetings and meetings about the “other band” we needed to “fill the place”, as we were definitely considered to be nowhere near big enough (most of these bands were, like, way bigger than us, by the way). we didn’t sell out hollywood bowl, and that was with both hot chip and sleigh bells. there was, i repeat, no expectation of our selling this out either. my main concerns at the time were things like ticketmaster charges—how they were going to make the tickets ridiculously costly… we never dreamed some shitbags would try to get thousands for our show. it’s insane.
but it happened. we all looked at each other in horror and sat there. i mean, aren’t you supposed to be psyched? your band sold out madison square garden! i live in nyc, and that’s the place. i saw the jackson’s victory tour there when i was a kid. but there it was—the shit was gone, and people—not just people, but fucking proper fans—were pissed. nancy from the band tried to buy tickets. failed. i tried. failed. our best friends—not wanting to hassle us for guestlist spots tried—failed. i bought 2 tickets to my own show for 3 times the value like an idiot to see if real tickets showed up. my family got burned. it was, to say the least, weird. we tried getting another day at msg. i’d
mentioned this before and most everyone kind of rolled their eyes at me. “2 madison square garden shows, dude? really?” i thought, well, just in case, you know? maybe some people would fly from other places or something. but msg, being one of the most popular venues on the planet, was unsurprisingly booked. (for the record: just because it doesn’t look booked on the internet, doesn’t mean it’s available. just saying.) we tried calling our lawyer about the ticket scalping. “it’s legal”. no joke. it’s fucking legal. i tramped around with friends and band getting insane. i wanted to buy some expensive tickets and then track the seller down to beat him. i acted stupid. i did some classic, shakespearean vain “fist shaking”, etc. i made angry tweets. (i’m wondering now what on earth could be less effective and more of a first-world spoiled idiotic move than “angry tweets”? jesus.) i read conspiracy theories about how this was some cashgrab i orchestrated. i read that there are 50,000 seats at msg (i think our show will have 13k). i read that people had already bought flights, hotels. wanted to bring their kids. waited in the cold. i read that some people thought this was one of the reasons we were calling it quits (check). i read that this was a media stunt we planned. i read very funny comments from my friend aziz, one of which was taken seriously (that msg had given me 30,000 tickets personally for guest list). i read that i was giving all the tickets to my “new celebrity friends” (aziz is about the closest thing i have to a “celebrity friend”, and we met at terminal 5 watching hot chip when we were, well, not very “celebrated”). i read that we should cancel the show and put the tickets up on sale in a better fashion. i read that we should not do that, for fuck’s sake. i read that we should go fuck ourselves. i read a lot of stuff, waiting to hear if we could get another night at msg, which seemed like the only option. but it failed. then i kind of sat in my house, trying not to worry for 20 minutes, and made a very, very good coffee. i don’t know what people think about us,
really. i’d love to say i don’t care, but i do. these people in my band—they are my very good friends. i love them very much. i love this band very much. everything about it. i’m very proud of it—of us, and i get defensive when people talk shit about us. i feel like we’ve been able to do something sort of special for 9 years: making music we like the way we like it. going on tour and playing, no computers or bullshit. no in-ears. a bunch of weird substitute teachers just trying to play something like the bands we loved growing up. whenever anyone said shit about us being sellouts or something, it stung, because i consider this entire thing—the band, everything—to be a communication between us and whoever is listening, and not just a thing unto itself. i remember being a fan and seeing bands, thinking “this is us. this is you playing and me/us watching” and how real that connection was, and i always wanted to honor that strange relationship with our band. so when someone felt wronged or hurt or outraged, it stung. it stung because, on some level, regardless of the “you can’t please everyone” stuff that gets rationally said to you when this shit happens, it meant that i’d failed. i’d failed to communicate. on the other hand, i’ve had my world turned upside down by a lot of amazing things people have said about us, or to us. i’ve met fans and made friends, and felt very strongly how that relationship actually works—and how we brought ourselves, each other, finally here, to where we play our last show—and biggest show ever—together, at this amazing place. and then,this fucking ticket thing happened. so to the point. you can’t make everyone happy, and i’m sure this will wind someone up somewhere (“but i paid $600 for one seat at msg!!!) or seem like some shitty “plan” to someone else (“they were gonna do it all along!!! it’s all a big retirement money plan to bilk the fans!!!”) or something else that someone who theoretically likes our band thinks (why are you trying to buy a ticket?? how could you even listen to a band that you think is capable of some of this shit!??) but we’ve
come up with the best solution i can think of, as quickly as possible so as to deflate the market for those scalping scumfucks. we’re going to play 4 shows at terminal 5 in nyc leading up to the msg show, and they will include most if not all of the songs we play at msg. the farewell run-up to the last dance. it’ll be the 28th, 29th, 30th and 31st of march. obviously we’re going to look seriously at the way we sell these tickets. not “paperless, (i’ve been advised that the “paperless” thing is apparently now illegal in ny… seriously—don’t ask me) but there are some ideas floating around that could be just as effective (though it’ll take a minute to get folks in the door.) we’ll announce the shows officially early in the week, and tickets will be on sale soon after. we’re announcing all the shows at once, and if they don’t sell out, i don’t care. i just want to give people who actually want to see us a chance to see us. for a reasonable ticket price. and i want to drop the price of the msg tickets being sold by piece of shit scalpers. oh—and a small thing to scalpers: “it’s legal” is what people say when they don’t have ethics. the law is there to set the limit of what is punishable (aka where the state needs to intervene) but we are supposed to have ethics, and that should be the primary guiding force in our actions, you fucking fuck. and to everyone else: thank you. you rule. don’t let the shitbags win. i feel like conan o’brien. james
Dear Sister, You are like a sister to me! haha. Anyway we have come a long way. I am so glad we are close again. There for awhile it seemed like we actually hated each other. But I am glad we are past that. You are one of my best friends. I am glad you are growing up into such a great young woman. You are going to do awesome in life. I cannot wait to get back home so that we can hang out more. I love you little sister. Have a great day, Craig
eh sino pa ba? there’s only one who still means a lot to me. i just won’t mention any name. but if you could read this, you should know it’s you. you being gone was just so sudden. one day we’re just happily planning dates and hang outs, then next they tell me you’re in the hospital. what sucks is that i didn’t even get to visit you. everything went by like a blur. after one week, they tell me you’re gone. i was like, “WTF? that is so not a good joke.” but turns out it’s not one. a joke, i mean.
and i’d be yours to your prom. it was supposed to be a perfect and magical night. but you left me alone. and so i had no choice but to have a really lame prom date. i blame you for that, you know? i wish you’d come back. i think you’re the only person who can put me out of my misery. you’re the only one who really knows how to love me. you’re the only one that made me feel special and that i deserved to be loved. you loved me. and i still love you. -M.
up to now, i still hope it’s a joke. that even after 4 years, they’d tell me it was all just a joke. you see, you left me so heartbroken. just when i was falling for you, you were gone. and i guess because there was no closure or whatnot, i still have feelings for you. i’ve had boyfriends after you were gone, but i have to be honest. i never loved anyone as much as i loved you. you were my first love. heck, you were supposed to be my first boyfriend. you were supposed to be my prom date. we already planned the prom remember? you’d be my date to my prom, 36
EP ISTO LARY Dear Neighbor, I appreciate you letting me borrow Assassins Creed II, I really do. But WHY in god’s name are you still in bed at 4 o’clock? I don’t even feel bad about waking you up. Don’t you have finals tomorrow or something? Get out of bed. Come on, man. Get your shit together. A Little Confused, Grant
i think i should break up with you now.. you made me so addicted to you. i always miss you and everything about you.. i dont think you have a good influence with me by now.. you know what? its our major exam this week and you keep on running in my head instead of my accounting stuffs, ethics stuff, and all other academic things. look tumblr, the day i met you was really cool, but now, i think i have to leave you tumblr, i never want to.. but i must.. yess. i must! :) PS: lets break up for this week ok? that’s clear enough. i hope when we’re back together everything will be the same. :) nothing will be lost. PPS: for just a WEEK! :) LOL (Lots of Love), junanee
Dear Todd, Why the hell would you bother to unblock me, and have a conversation with me, if you were going to just reblock me for a stupid reason? You may not have liked what I said, but I didn’t like a lot of what you said, either. All I did was point out that you don’t know what it’s like to be in my position, and that you still had all your friends and all your family there for you. You didn’t like that, which is absurd. I didn’t want to fight, I just wanted to say that and drop it. Then you bring Sherilynn into it. You have no idea how guilty I felt and still feel that she got you to talk to me, only for me to fuck it up. Although I don’t see that as being my fault. I still see it as being your retarded, misguided justification.
I’ve been avoiding ending this for a long time. The past two entries, though, couldn’t even be finished because I began to become restless and unable to wait to end this. I’ve relied on this for way too long. You left my life so long ago, and I honestly miss you. Reading and looking back at everything from the era of our best friendship makes me really nostalgic. I miss having someone to relate to. I miss having someone to spend my nights on the phone with. I miss having your problems to care about. I miss having that closeness. I wonder why we grew apart. Sometimes, I feel like you chose J***** over me. And that’s fine. Sometimes, I wonder how differently things would have turned out
The stupid thing is, I’m not even mad at you. I know you, and so I know exactly why you’re being the way you’re being. You’re forgetting that no one’s ever taken the time or had the patience I had with you, the same as you did with me. I had all your silly habits memorized, I still know your face like the back of my hand, and I understand why you do some of the strange things you do. How most times, you’re just trying to convince yourself you’re doing the right thing. This is one of those times.
you broke up with me. I just wish you would see how wonderful we were, and that we’ve both learned a lot from the mistakes we made. I think we could have it all like we always wanted if you’d just wake up and realize no one else will ever give you what you want like I will, and vice versa. God, just man the fuck up already. love, Sidney.
I know that you love me. That you miss me, and wish things could be different. You told me so just last week. But you’ve got it set in your mind, and you’re sticking to it - I still remember when you said that to my face the day
if J***** and I never happened. And sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if that one make out session in your car had turned into more than one. I realize now that you’ve become my audience. For the past couple of years, I’ve written for and to you. To be honest, you’ll probably always be my audience. I can’t feel much. Not genuinely, anyway. But I have felt the greatest love for you, even though it was only platonic. You are the one person that I accepted - flaws and attributes. I loved you no matter what and defended you no matter what. You’re the one person I placed above myself. You were never there just to fill a void. You were my best friend, the person that helped me connect with
the rest of humanity and helped me to fill my own voids. I honestly wish this love could have been romantic, but I just couldn’t feel that. I don’t think you could either. However, I also realize that for you, I was someone to confide in. You came to me with your issues. You came to me for help. Because I played this role for so long, you never expected me to have issues. When I did have them, I didn’t express them. You still don’t know half of me. I haven’t even shown it in these entries. When I expressed even the smallest problem, you freaked out. You forgot that you were me for three years. We played our roles, we played our parts. And I still love you, I hope you
know, even though you’ve simplified and I refuse to because I disagree with it. I still feel like I’ll know you all my life. Sincerely. P.S. When you’re done with this, give it back to me. To remember is to understand, and I can’t remember if you have all my memories.
Dear Cheril Longdong, HI BEST FRANNN :) today is your 19th birthdaay!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I’m bout to see youuuu in 2 hours. :) Man, where do I start… it’s just crazy to think we first met when we were 4-5 years old and now you’re turning 19. Looking back to all those years, we’ve had soooo many memories.. it would take novels and novels to write them all. For as long as I could remember, you were always my “#1 BFF!”:) Friends came and went, so did the boys. But the one thing that always stayed certain was you being my best friend, and you always being by my side wherever we went. No matter what, you always supported me and backed me up.. you were and always will be the older sister I always wanted :)<3 In elementary school, we’d always play tetherball and double dutch. In middle school was when we practically lived at Lollicup, and go to hangouts, “Are you going to so and so?” “Eh..I’ll go if Cheril goes.” all the time. and vice versa :) Then in 8th grade, I kept crying and crying because this one boy kept being a complete douche to me. And you went up to him and told him off :D Then came freshman year, my favorite year out of high school, because all we ever did was walk around after school and have our own little adventures.. I’d always look both ways before I crossed the street, but then I look straight ahead and you’re already halfway to the other side!! Hahaha!! And then we had that Secret Santa with our group, and we found out during our gift exchange that we picked each other, what are the odds of that?! I thought that was the most special thing ever cause I believe there’s no such thing as coincidences :) And us and boysss…omg we were boyyy crazyyy! If there was a cute boy around, I’d give you a ‘look’ and then you’d give me a ‘look’ that you knew exactly who I was talking about, LOL. Then, in sophomore year we got into badminton, and were so thrilled we made the team together :) Every now and then we’d have to play against each other, and I would always lose. Then last year, during our tryouts we found out we had
to play against each other, which we always dreaded :( As usual it was an intense match, and everyone was watching.. but this time was the first time I won and I remember the first thing we did was run to each other and hug each other afterwards because it didn’t matter which of us won, it was about us growing and improving, and supporting each other as we both got better at our abilities :) I’ll always remember all those homecomings, where it was a tradition to go over to my house and get ready :) Mann.. how our dates have changed over the years hahaha!! x) My dancing partner always & forever! & every single year, since middle school, no one could write in our yearbooks unless each of us signed each others’ first. :p And omg.. haha, last year, our senior year, we wrote in each others’ yearbooks…we sat near each other while we wrote but we didn’t read what the other put. Finally, when we traded… we realized we wrote the exact same things! Same memories, same stories, we both wrote “No matter where we are in the world, you’re always going to be my best friend!” Craaazzzy! <3 Although these are just a few memories out of a bazillion, it makes me realize even more how lucky and blessed I am to have an amazing best friend like you<3 my rock, my support, always there for me to catch me when I fall. Looking back at these memories makes me so happy knowing we were absolutely inseparable, and still are! Even though we’re in college now and we don’t see each other every day like we used to, it still feels like nothing has changed every time we catch up :) That’s when I know I have a true friend that I’ll never dare to let go. You’re one of the most sweetest, most kind-hearted people I know, always caring for other people before yourself, being the “mommy” of the group, but so strong-willed and independent at the same time too. You’re loved by sooo so SOO many people because your lovable and compassionate personality is always there to brighten anyone’s day. You’re absolutely beautiful inside and out and I’m soooo so proud to call you my best friend (: And like we said for years now, “You’re gonna be my maidof-honor!” :) It’s so crazy we started saying that when we were like, 12! And now that we’re older it’s starting to feel so real because, out of all the things I’m uncertain about in the future, I know FOR SURE you’ll always be my best friend and you ARE going to be my maid of honor. Bahaha :) And if I have kids, you’re gonna be their favorite Auntie Cheril :) Teeheehee. <3 I LOVE YOU so much, Cheril!! I can’t wait to create more memories with you and watch each other grow as we start our college journey, and even beyond that :) Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, I could never ask for a better best friend. <3 Love, Steph :) 39
Still coming to terms with the fact that i am anti-social/socially inept. trying to understand the fact that i am intimidating and that, inadvertently, i make myself unapproachable. the fact that i have only like three friends and those are the only people i ever want to hang out with or be around ever. the fact that i get angry and emotional when my friends and i are at a social event and they are surrounded by other people, being friendly and fun and outgoing, while i am left alone, standing there awkwardly behind them, feeling unwanted and like a burden. the fact that i often come home from social events crying because i am jealous of my likable extraverted best friend, wishing i could be more like her because everyone really loves her and couldn’t give a fuck about me. or the fact that people have to FIGHT to become my friends. like, i still can’t fathom why anybody would even want to be friends with me, and then just the amount of sheer diligence and determination it takes to get me into a real conversation with you is admittedly not worth the effort and is an unbelievably arduous and time-consuming process. when i say conversation, i mean a genuine connection of a conversation… not the typical social niceties and lame bullshit smiles and laughter. i can do that, in fact i do it all the time nearly everyday, but that’s fake and that’s not how i want to be or how i feel things should be with other human beings. there is a wall between me and everyone i meet. i am so weird and awkward and afraid. i want people to like me while also keeping a safe distance from me. even the people i genuinely like or perhaps even want to be friends with, i don’t know how to interact with them in an unsuperficial way or how to be social and get them to like me… they have to do all the work to get to that point of comfort and openness i expect in friendship, and it’s a painful thing to watch. i wish, sincerely, that it didn’t have to be like that. but, maybe once i recognize this about myself and accept it in myself - that this is just my personality and that there is nothing wrong with the way i am and that not everyone can be a fucking vivacious social butterfly or is expected to be - maybe i can be a little easier on myself. so, for those of you who have ever had the displeasure of meeting me, i am incredibly, incredibly sorry… it’s not you, it’s me.
hey girly, it’s your thirty something self passing by, saying hi and writing you a letter. i know that you’ve got the attention span of a hyperactive lemur, so i’ll keep this nice and short. you’re probably feeling a bit blue after your disasterous sweet sixteenth birthday party. just so you’re aware, this theme of party disasters will take you through until you’re thirty three. your thirtieth will be the most memorable but that’s it. you have dreams of becoming a successful journalist and that’s great. stick with them but don’t expect to be the next mary kostakidis because it will never happen. you’ll make it in the field of radio, have the time of [your] life and then go back to being a nobody. best prepare yourself by getting a job in customer service. you’re a masochist. you’ll get paid to be bullied by others. it’ll be like school except you won’t be able to hide in the library and read dostoevsky novels. you’ve got a crush on that cute year eleven guy who looks like morrissey, yeah? steer clear of him. he’ll end up in jail. don’t stress too much about finding love, you’ll probably date a couple of sleazes that you drunkenly met at the casino at after work drinks and that’ll be it. you might even get engaged and watch that fall to bits. please don’t feel too bad about your life. all these disasters will occur in your late twenties. crying about it now means you’ll be able to handle all those disappointments later. do me a favour? never ever give up on that one secret dream of yours. if you do, i’ll bloody well go back in time and kick the shit out of you. your life might be a major disappointment in the future but never give up on that little dream. ok. i’m done. you can go back to swooning over pics of morrissey now. peace out, your thirty something self xox
DOWN THE INSTITUBES 42
lyptic, terminally pauperized landscape, complete with irradiated A&R zombies and mutated eyeless bloggers. It’s always been a bit of an uphill battle. But it got worse and worse. At first it was fun to figure out ways to get people to check out our music. But once that’s done and you have something resembling an audience, it becomes apparent that this is not really your
job. Your job is to reconcile the public with the very idea of buying records. All the power to you if you can bear it.
The fact that ours is a struggling industry, where 90% of your time is spent “staying afloat”, obscures an important fact: we are still playing by the rules that got us fucked in the first place. The way we do business is defective: our values are defective, our contracts are defective, our post-Napster economy itself is defective. I just read an article by a label owner who states that “anything we can do to stay afloat should be condoned”. I don’t think so, no. Staying afloat by any means necessary is a meaningless pursuit. The only honest way for a record label to make money is by selling records. We’ve always been uneasy about selling anything else.
We’re closing shop because the operation is losing too much money, this much is clear. Most of what we could have done to prevent or delay this outcome reside in two words: lifestyle and branding. Investing in t-shirts and cobranding, scoring “collaborations” or sponsorship deals with deep-pocketed companies. I have but a regret: we actually did it sometimes. We should have said no more often. Bands struggling to get together with brands, artists and audience deriving more validity from corporate interest than from anything else, bands happy to learn that in the future they would have to “take charge of their own promotion”: this wasn’t for us. In other words, on our small scale, we should have been able to
And our current cultural economy isn’t healthy either. Consumer practices are fucked. You don’t need me to tell you that music is devalued. Not only because we no longer sell shit (and even when you do, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re selling free shit), but also because tracks are peaking faster than tumblr memes. In our historical moment, music is everywhere but second or third or tenth to many other interests and areas of culture. Fashion, Apple, video games, “devices”, social media, etc. And that’s cool, I guess. But I don’t want to have to be a function of fashion. Nor do I want to urge an artist to publish half-baked tracks every month in order to stay “relevant”. Depleted accounts is one thing, but depleted attentions?
“We never lived those halcyon days some industry elders tend to rave about.” So, the next Institubes record is not coming soon. And I can’t tell you how much it pains me to write these words. We’ve released many records in our (almost) eight years of existence and managed to introduce a number of excellent artists to the world. Good times were had and accolades garnered. I’m not so conceited nor high on my own supply that I’d try and talk up our “legacy” but I don’t think that in five, ten or twenty years I’ll look at our discography and cringe. Now I get to tell you, Institubes fans, friends and allies, that we have to wrap it up. Party’s over. I could write ten pages about the realities and difficulties of the music business but you’ll only get about two paragraphs and not much whining. We never lived those halcyon days some industry elders tend to rave about. We always moved through a post-apoca-
carve a non-capitalist niche within the larger corporate world. I thought, being young and naive when we started, that “underground” meant just that.
ADV ICE FROM THE
Get dirty. Get fucking filthy. Get poor. Get off your ass. Get desperate. Get dangerous. Get vilified. Get vile. Get romantic. Get fucked. Get moving. Get productive. Get pro-active. Get started. Get your own life. Get doing something. Anything. Because before you know it you’re 40 with kids, a mortgage, and responsibilities that cause your fun to come second. So before cancer, before children, before 50 hour work weeks, before back and knee problems, before school loans, before you lose your sense of humour… Fight. Fight and fuck and run and smile. Smile because the older you get, the less you will. So yes, “quit being such a goddamn pussy,” because bitching and whining and worry never made anything better.
If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs. And maybe your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance. Of how much you really want to do it. And you’ll do it, despite rejection in the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods. And the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is…
Youâ€™re obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack of all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. Thatâ€™s the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world.
AN ARTIST’S EARLY WORK IS INEVITABLY MADE UP OF A MIXTURE OF TENDENCIES AND INTERESTS, SOME OF WHICH ARE COMPATIBLE AND SOME OF WHICH ARE IN CONFLICT. AS THE ARTIST PICKS HIS WAY ALONG, REJECTING AND ACCEPTING AS HE GOES, CERTAIN PATTERNS OF ENQUIRY EMERGE. HIS FAILURES ARE AS VALUABLE AS HIS SUCCESSES: BY MISJUDGING ONE THING HE CONFORMS SOMETHING ELSE, EVEN IF AT THE TIME HE DOES NOT KNOW WHAT THAT SOMETHING ELSE IS.
I AM ALWAYS DOING THAT WHICH I CANNOT DO, IN ORDER THAT I MAY LEARN HOW TO DO IT
I’VE BEEN ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED EVERY MOMENT OF MY LIFE - AND I’VE NEVER LET IT KEEP ME FROM DOING A SINGLE THING I WANTED TO DO.
When one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself
I SPENT THREE DAYS A WEEK FOR 10 YEARS EDUCATING MYSELF IN THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, AND IT’S BETTER THAN COLLEGE. PEOPLE SHOULD EDUCATE THEMSELVES YOU CAN GET A COMPLETE EDUCATION FOR NO MONEY. AT THE END OF 10 YEARS, I HAD READ EVERY BOOK IN THE LIBRARY AND I’D WRITTEN A THOUSAND STORIES.
I’VE WANTED TO KILL MYSELF A HUNDRED TIMES, BUT I STILL LOVE LIFE. THAT RIDICULOUS WEAKNESS IS PERHAPS ONE OF OUR MOST PERNICIOUS INCLINATIONS. WHAT COULD BE MORE STUPID TO PERSIST IN CARRYING A BURDEN THAT WE CONSTANTLY WANT TO CAST OFF, TO HOLD OUR EXISTENCE IN HORROR, YET CLING TO IT NONETHELESS, TO FONDLE THE SERPENT THAT DEVOURS US, UNTIL IT HAS EATEN OUR HEART?
Without the sense of kinship with men of like mind, without the occupation with the objective world, the eternally unattainable in the field of art and scientific endeavors, life would have seemed empty to me. The trite objects of human efforts - possessions, outward success, luxury - have always seemed to me contemptible.
SO MUCH WORKING, READING, THINKING, LIVING TO DO. A LIFETIME IS NOT LONG ENOUGH. NOR YOUTH TO OLD AGE LONG ENOUGH. IMMORTALITY AND PERMANENCE BE DAMNED. SURE I WANT THEM, BUT THEY ARE NONEXISTENT, AND WON’T MATTER WHEN I ROT UNDERGROUND. ALL I WANT TO SAY IS: I MADE THE BEST OF A MEDIOCRE JOB. IT WAS A GOOD FIGHT WHILE IT LASTED.
Dear _____________________, I want to warn you of an upcoming hyperbole in a vain effort to not disappoint you. No, I will not “die” to smell your coffee breath, nor will I “beg” to kiss the floor you walk on. At most, I might consider getting on all fours should you require a foot stool. Yes, I do admire your work, insofar as to say my admiration goes beyond an average human being’s. But to call myself your number one fan would be overkill. You’re right, there are probably millions of other kids that would kill for this position — each one less sane than the last. I’m disposable. I get it. Basically, it boils down to this: I’m talented. I will work hard for you and be half the annoyance those other dirt-for-brains nitwits that call themselves your fan will. Call my bluff and you’ll be forever sorry on heavy rotation through careless fucks.
LOOK AT THIS COLLEGE I MADE hey fuck tits, why the fuck do you require 5+ years experience for your “entry level” job? goddamn. you’re seeking an unpaid intern that can work 40 hours a week for your no-name company in the middle of shitfuck georgia? fuck you, bitch. just because i’m under 70 years old doesn’t mean i know how to fix your PC from 2001. try turning it off and back on or somehting. i don’t know. suck my dick. why am i done with the work you gave me? because i fucking finished it so i could smoke a bowl in my car before lunch. sorry about your miscarriage, i’d want to die too if i had to live in there. i look unprofessional? bitch, how can you talk shit about the way i look when your thick ass panty lines are busting through your pin stripe lane bryants all day? you want me to wait two weeks to pick up my check because you’re having money problems? not my problem, give me my shit or i’ll punch you in the dick. fuck it, i’m going thoreau on all your asses.
(look at all the fucks i give) 59
Just… I’m exhausted. So my dad’s like mad into terrorism and has problems getting into the US. Not really. He once did business within the US without a visa. So ever since then, whenever he enters the states they pull him into secondary for like 45 minutes of questioning. It’s a pain in the ass and I refuse to stand in the same customs line as him. Anyway. That happened when we went to New York earlier this week and my mom ‘stood by his side’ so to speak, no…literally actually, she literally stood by his side in customs and they both went to secondary. We’re going to BC in like 3 weeks so my dad can buy this vacation condo on Vancouver Island, which I personally am vehemently against, but not so much that I won’t accept a free 4 day vacation on the parental dime.
Vancouver are we gonna have to deal with this again?” I’m like, “No mom, it’s only the US that’s pissed off at dad.” “But it’ll be at the airport.” “Yes mom. I know. But we won’t be going through US customs. So it’ll be fine.” “What? But it’s the airport.” “Mom. BC is a province in Canada. We live in Canada. We’re not crossing any borders. It’s fine. Nothing will happen.” “I don’t want to have to wait again. Maybe I’ll bring my Zune to listen to in case I have to wait.” “NO. MOM. okay, fucking…. okay”
ANYWAY. Jesus Christ I can’t get to the point of a story to save my fucking life. My mom goes, “When we go to
It’s like…I’m just exhausted, you know?
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