Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

Friday, October 01, 2004

The Law of Familiarity

The law of familiarity. More on this idea.

Had recently stayed in the worst dirtiest sleaziest motel on South beach that you could ever imagine. Really gross but really cheap. Truth is that I am flat broke. Haven't been broke in over ten years, but I am now. but that's a different story. The point is that at first this hotel was so gross to me that I couldn’t even fall asleep. Couldn’t bear looking at it. but after a few nights I became accustomed to it. I just woke up one day and noticed that I was starting to feel comfortable there. and I have been thinking about this theory for days now. about how when you go to use a public restroom and someone has left something in the toilet for you because they didn't flush and how totally gross that is that it makes you want to throw up. but when you look at your own feces in the toilet you don't get grossed out at all. what is that? weird right? it’s just because we are already familiar with it. or at least because it is ours, it belongs to us, we tell ourselves that we are already familiar with it. it’s ours. but when we look at someone else’s feces in the toilet and because we tell ourselves that it is not ours and therefore we are not familiar with it, we imagine that there may be other things there that we may not expect or something.... or when we look at someone's hands and they look so foreign and strange to us, and yet when we look at our own hands they seem so normal. We see right through them almost; as if they are not even there. This is the law of familiarity.

The transfer of goods. While we were moving this weekend Bas gave away his old crate and barrel table and chair set that he had bought with his ex girlfriend a few years back. he just didn't want it anymore. So there the table sat on its side in the truck and the chairs one on top of the other, looking quite discarded and lonely. I asked the driver of the car what he was going to do with the set and he told me in a very broken English with a thick Jamaican accent that he would be giving them to these old ladies he knows who live in a trailer in his neighborhood. ‘They will love this table mon,’ he tells me, they will use to play cards in all day and night.’ I stood there and thought of the fate of our goods and wares. How they trade hands, going from person to person. how one year a table and chair set can sit in the window of crate and barrel and cost hundreds of dollars and a happy young couple can save their dollars and charge the set to their credit card and spend months and years paying it off, and then years later it can be given away for absolutely nothing to someone as if no one in the world cares about it. and yet, if the set really does wind up in the trailer of some nice old ladies who will sit there playing cards in them through their long and leisurly days.... its this transfer of our goods that is fascinating. And when one by one the old ladies pass on from this world, what next will happen to the table and chair set? When people rent and then they leave the rented property often times landlords just throw all the stuff out on the curb, which I have always found fascinating. How we can buy stuff and then throw it away.

When we moved our offices from the lavish 5000 sq foot building we once occupied to a much smaller executive office suite set up, we ended up with over twenty desks and chairs and computers and monitors and just tons of office furniture. Cleopatra casually advised to throw it all away. but I had been to used office furniture warehouses and I knew how much this stuff sold for. In fact much of this same stuff she was advising me to casually throw away we had spent thousands of our hard earned dollars on purchasing from these same used furniture warehouses. After storing the merchandise a while on my own dime I started calculating how much the warehouse fees were costing me each month to store this stuff that I may or may not ever use. You could go on and on. Its really a fascinating concept to think about.

I still have five boxes of approximately three thousand cassette tapes that I don't know what to do with. No one wants them. if you go to eBay to look up cassette tapes, they sell for pennies a tape. so they are truly an unwanted item, even though at one time I had paid probably over ten bucks a piece for them over the years. I even offered them to a few school who declined them because they said they didn't have cassette players. Unbelievable.

Same thing with records. I have thousands of them too. but word is that they will one day be collectable. So I don't spend much time worrying what to do with them. Collectable is the term used to describe our goods that we could throw away now because they have no value, or hang onto for twenty years because they will suddenly and mysteriously become valuable again, but not for the same reason. Again, fascinating.

I remember Mr. T, the ultimate junk man who at one time had over twenty warehouses of his own filled to the roof with what anyone else would call junk. He had some warehouses filled with nothing but just newspapers. At the time it seemed ridiculous. Especially when he would force me and the boys to transfer all the stuff from one warehouse to another. We always felt like it was a complete waste of time of course but for obvious reasons we were at his every beck and call. (is that right? or is it beckon call?) anyway, over time, he began to sell his old wares at auctions. Pretty soon he was selling newspapers from the seventies for hundreds of dollars per paper. and then he was selling old commodore 64kb computers from the early eighties that you couldn’t give away ten years earlier for hundreds of dollars. And it went on and on like that. he would sell old antique radios for thousands of dollars and he had this whole warehouse filled with old cars from his high school years ---- I'm talking a warehouse about the size of a football field --- filled with cars that he once owned and he others he bought for pennies that were just total heaps. And now he was turning around and selling them for tens of thousands of dollars per car. fascinating. This is the life of the intelligent junkman.

Yes, the transfer of our goods is a fascinating concept indeed.

At the airport now. sitting outside on a bench waiting to go through the gate. And I noticed I was connected to the Internet via a wireless network. Its amazing how you can connect to the Internet now from almost anywhere without even having an Internet connection of your own.
--------------------------------
Brought to us by the courtesy of Rob Breszny:

"You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change
 something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete."
  --R. Buckminster Fuller, *Critical Path*
 "No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an
 uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit."
  --Helen Keller
 "Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."
  --Ralph Waldo Emerson, *Essays: First Series,* "Essay XII, Art"

Wednesday, December 17, 2003


Not working enough. But trying to. Need to catch up before I leave for the holidays. For the record, this is the week where a whole row of keys on my laptop don't work. They go in and out. and it is truly hilarious trying to decipher what I type. See below. Band sounds great. Show on Saturday. Found out today that the sleep with you album is charting on a lot of different stations all over the country. In all these cites we have never even heard of. We are all so happy. 

Listening to Wayne Dyer every night as i go to sleep. I Love him. Especially this tape he has called real magic. At this point i would rather work on being happy and fulfilled and just walk around le m floating rather than being cool.  Thn perhaps that  spent too much time worried about being cool. What s cool? Being happy and fulfilled. That's cool being Neo. So I listen to these tapes every night. Process n your sleep. You wake up feeling psyched and energized and confident and ready for another day of manifesting your dreams and those of others.


PS--- found The Adventures of Fishy. For real. Fifteen years of writing that I thought was lost forever. 2 huge boxes crammed with notebooks and journals. Thank God. Finally. [Later in the story I will lose this all again. and it will be found by someone else. I have no idea by who of course. But for now it is in my possession. I will do my best to get it edited and typed in. Why I don't know. What the hell is any of this about anyway???] I did not realize how much writing there was. I had no idea, no memory of how much I wrote. It is quite insane. There are books and books and books filled with notes about every conceivable subject imaginable. It is a brilliant idea for a story. Man wakes up one day, finds boxes. Realizes he is a writer. Never realized it before. [Now what exactly is a writer? Can you just be someone who writes and be a writer? Or do you have to be published writer? Do you have to have people that like your writing? Does the writing itself have to have some sort of social or artistic significance in order for one to be called a writer? Or if a person just writes a lot does that a writer make? Hhhmmmm. I have no time for any of that though. Because I am just too fucking busy writing all the time.] I guess I just always did it and never realized what that actually meant. Bas screams why the fuck don't you take your writing seriously?! I am man. You aren't man. I am too man. I write a few hours every fucking day; you know that. Yeah but what do you do with it all? You just write and then what??? Put it in some boxes so you can lose them and find them five years later???!!!! What kind of a fucking game is that? Look at this fucking box we have found here. This could be a gold mine! We could be living like kings and sipping Crystal right now for God sakes, with hot babes under each arm! Publish this shit man! Do something with it. I tell him, Dude, I gotta sing with the baaaaaand. That's my passion. I write because I have to. I was born doing it. its like my unfortunate mission. But I sing and write songs because I want to bro. That's what I love.” “Whatever man. Lets get rich first and then you can sing with the band. You wrote and submitted one fucking screen play in a week and you won a contest and got published. So that should tell you something. Maybe you can come up with a fake name or something if you want to. so it doesn’t effect your music career or effect the band at all. you know like a pen name... he says. Hhhmmm, I think. What an interesting idea. 

Current Spin: cesare cremonini,  Bagus. I Love this album! and also, Louis Armstrong Christmas.