The elites will become cogs in the machine. You will become a bright, silver, indestructible wrench that breaks it. You will become the creator of your own machine, and they will envy you your purity. And the money they inherited, they will give to you. And unlike them, you will have earned it. They will buy your art. They will pay you for your ideas. They will line up outside your club, behind the velvet rope you have a former athlete guarding. They will beg for backstage passes to your show. They will pay you for VIP access to your company. They will always ask themselves, “Why didn’t I think of that?” And you’ll know, “Because you didn’t have to.”
Clayton Cubitt (via mollycrabapple)
I like Clayton Cubitt’s work, what I’ve seen of it (if he’s who I’m thinking of), but: Why are nerds, misfits, etc. so obsessed with this fantasy that after high school (where they’re uniquely unhappy), there’s this 40-virgins-and-a-mule heaven waiting for them because they’re, like, all shiny? This is a strange, sad thing to believe, and worse, an untrue thing to believe. Have people ever just gone to a comic convention and, like, looked around? A lot of people that didn’t happen for, no? The world is indifferent to most everybody, and the science is not on your side— the science consistently says that kids who are well-adjusted in high school do better later in life. Look it up— that’s the science; if you can be a tall extrovert with an appropriate amount of confidence and hair, that’s scientifically the ideal way to go through life. The science doesn’t want to make those findings— what kind of geeks become scientists, poking and prodding at people like that? Those are weirdos of the finest vintage. Those are the last people happy about their own results. They’re all crying and Hojo the Lab Monkey is looking at them like, “What’s going on with that asshole? I love bananas.”
Yeah, sure, there are a tiny number of nobody people who are nerdy who defeated the odds in the arts world to become faaaaaaamous despite meager beginnings(awesome goal!); and whatever it is that weirdos project onto those guys is actually very lovely. I’d defend that. But to look at any successful geek as Manifest Destiny rather than a crew lucky enough to have found an escape hatch seems… unhealthy. It just all seems so unhealthy. Worse, it seems like sales. And— who do people think PAYS those guys? Who do they think runs those guys’s careers? Have you ever seen a movie executive? Have you ever been around AGENTS? (I don’t recommend it). Do people think that the creative personnel are really running the game and calling shots? That’s not true of nearly every creative enterprise I know, certainly not pre-internet at least. If you’re not a person who can say No in their life, then I don’t care who’s lined up to kiss your ass. Heck, it’s certainly not true now— this generation of nerds is churning out Star Wars movies and Marvel bullshit for corporations that keep nerds like pets. Drive around LA at night— a lot of people on their street enjoying the limited life they have in them in actual 4-dimensional space and … they sure don’t look like they all had a rough time in Algebra or whatever baggage this is all about. They’re not the ones holed up by themselves making their own machines because they can’t connect with people in healthier ways…
It’s just one fantasy after ever since forever. Outer space— you still hear nerds talking about outer space thanks to bad sci-fi; a species that can’t figure out how to sustain their goddamn food source long-term and these folks think science dollars should get poured into Rocketry for journeys into vast expanses of nothingness. Virtual reality. The Singularity— bluh. Bluh! And- and- and, those so-called “elites”? They’re going through their own unique journey that’s no less a human experience than anyone else’s. What kind of art does a person think they’re going to make if they fail to recognize that? Every movie is about the outcast who triumphs over society because everybody feels that way— congratulations, you’re an artist of cliche and no insight.
And say, say, say you’re the special snowflake exception that this guy’s talking about, and you get to live the dream. … That’s it? That’s your dream? Sitting in a VIP area doing coke by yourself surrounded by people you hate because you somehow don’t have the stones to have gotten over the ordinary traumas of a pretty humdrum-sounding adolescence? Yeah, that sounds really awesome, 1975 David Bowie.
I get wanting to have these fantasies. I watch a lot of porn— the things that I think are happening in our nation’s astronomy classrooms… I have a very distorted view of higher education in this country. But expecting some reward for being alienated… the reward is BEING ALIENATED. I mean, have you ever got out of your car while driving around LA at night? Get back in your car and drive! DRIVE! LA’s popular teenagers are embroigled in a twerking scandal right now! Drive and never look back. They can’t catch you cause you’re innocent…
I mean, I had to reblog anything with “Sitting in a VIP area doing coke by yourself surrounded by people you hate because you somehow don’t have the stones to have gotten over the ordinary traumas of a pretty humdrum-sounding adolescence? Yeah, that sounds really awesome, 1975 David Bowie.” But also, this is great.
Too much LA though.