Future Mythologies
A Textual Journey with Maxwell Von BismarckSaturday, February 05, 2005
I'm too much of a romantic. A cold, heartless romantic but a romantic nonetheless. A logical, ironic romantic but still too much of a romantic.
Friday, February 04, 2005
The only time I can escape from this oubliette, I then find myself trapped in an underground labyrinth. Wanding aimlessly through darkened corridors gets me nowhere. I retrace my steps and analyze the footsteps; the ones I can see at least, for it seems I don't know where I've been before. Come to think of it, the name "Future Mythologies" is quite appropriate, because everything I do feels predestined. I'm merely re-enacting an old story, like Oedipus hurtling himself toward his destiny unawares.
Did the great ones every surprise themselves? They must have done so. Surely Edison didn't envision the final result of his actions from the beginning, how could he? Even the simpler eccentrics have to let a certain degree of uncertainty rule their actions. Well I can sure do that. No one knows where I'm going less than I do. I say this as I listen to "Ice Rink", 14 minutes of bizarre alien unpredictability. Much like Brian Eno must have felt when he first heard "Get a Job", the most unprecidented but understandable record he'd ever encountered. Martian music. Unfortunately when I listen to "Icerink" I feel like I can hear thousands and thousands of hours of preparation behind it, knowing I'm not supposed to of course. This is spontaneous music, yes, but these people are talented. Who the fuck wants talent? Do you? Well fuck you if you do. Bring me people who want fucking more than talent. Bring me the new visionaries. These icerinkers might be visionaries, I'm not saying they're not visionaries. Dizzie is certainly a force to be reckoned with, but I want total seeing. I want to hear Daniel Johnston singing from a Houston garage. Daniel Miller getting hot off his own car crash. Don't worry, because it's not too far away from us in the near future. Christmas 2005 at the total fucking latest most pessimistic horrible fucking latest. I just need to wait for the excitement of the past to catch up to the wisdom of the present. It's getting nearer.
Did the great ones every surprise themselves? They must have done so. Surely Edison didn't envision the final result of his actions from the beginning, how could he? Even the simpler eccentrics have to let a certain degree of uncertainty rule their actions. Well I can sure do that. No one knows where I'm going less than I do. I say this as I listen to "Ice Rink", 14 minutes of bizarre alien unpredictability. Much like Brian Eno must have felt when he first heard "Get a Job", the most unprecidented but understandable record he'd ever encountered. Martian music. Unfortunately when I listen to "Icerink" I feel like I can hear thousands and thousands of hours of preparation behind it, knowing I'm not supposed to of course. This is spontaneous music, yes, but these people are talented. Who the fuck wants talent? Do you? Well fuck you if you do. Bring me people who want fucking more than talent. Bring me the new visionaries. These icerinkers might be visionaries, I'm not saying they're not visionaries. Dizzie is certainly a force to be reckoned with, but I want total seeing. I want to hear Daniel Johnston singing from a Houston garage. Daniel Miller getting hot off his own car crash. Don't worry, because it's not too far away from us in the near future. Christmas 2005 at the total fucking latest most pessimistic horrible fucking latest. I just need to wait for the excitement of the past to catch up to the wisdom of the present. It's getting nearer.
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