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Captain Eduardo Muhammad III
"Life Reincarnated In An Alligator"
Created on 2004-09-07 11:53:22 (#4464023), last updated 2004-10-12
15 comments received, 14 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
10 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | captain_eduardo |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 12-24 |
| Location: | Prague, Czech Republic |
BioGreetings. I caught wind of the Live Journal trend two years ago when a few boredom plagued girls who patrolled my suburban town in tights and mascara, chanting Bright Eyes songs informed me of their new, digital wonderland of teenage self assurance. Bothersome to say the least. Scary to say a bit more. Pathetic to encompass the whole lot of it.
It is painfully obvious that such a service as Live Journal allows those underappreciated, self effacing bottles of teenage emotion to let loose in some type of reasonable fashion (a healthy alternative to shooting up one’s school). Lacan has dubbed such concentrated bursts of emotion as jouissance; riddling the walls of the digital world with well meant pleas for attention (in a side note, jouissance also means to ejaculate).
The derivation of all this madness, or that I shall theorize, stems from our culture’s current need for peer approval. Living in isolated hovels in suburban track homes, a majority of Americans experience a disconnection in those around them, and the acceptance of one’s peers is a necessary, vital tool. We have become the biggest, harshest critics of ourselves and one another, for reasons I can only blame on our constant perversions of ‘celebrity’.
We revere the iconic hunks of Hollywood brilliance as a sounding board for our own unattainable dreams. We honor the likes of those beautiful, accomplished people whose lives are tossed within the public eye for entertainment beyond their celluloid walls. This meshing of entertainment within the scope of reality manages our desires and allows us to fantasize our lives; to add a dash of meaning to where live outside the boob tube takes place.
It is thus I expound my desires at this current trend, to uncover the underlying, insecurity of human kind in blog form. My only fear is that I too shall be pinned to an undercurrent of self obsession, typing away thoughts and intimacies for the world to exonerate.
I have four hundred multi-colored balloons ready to soar into the atmosphere for this key moment in my life. I am about to cut the ribbon. I must say how excited I am. I am very excited. I am taking out my gardening shears….there, I’ve clipped them, they’re gone. One didn’t make it. Oh well. Several are getting caught in power lines. A bird hit one. A stray cat has just eaten a pink one that popped. It is choking. They’ve all gone up now, past to where I can see them. I can now finally initiate my experiment into the heart of the American Social mindset, this epoch in communication. It shall rise as a bird, like my ballons. But then it will die. And then burn. And then from the ashes shall rise as a Phoenix. And then it will poop. And then it will die again. And then get hit by an ’86 Mazda traveling to Arizona to avoid the inevitable earthquake which will wipe out most of Southern California. Earthquake was a great movie.
It is painfully obvious that such a service as Live Journal allows those underappreciated, self effacing bottles of teenage emotion to let loose in some type of reasonable fashion (a healthy alternative to shooting up one’s school). Lacan has dubbed such concentrated bursts of emotion as jouissance; riddling the walls of the digital world with well meant pleas for attention (in a side note, jouissance also means to ejaculate).
The derivation of all this madness, or that I shall theorize, stems from our culture’s current need for peer approval. Living in isolated hovels in suburban track homes, a majority of Americans experience a disconnection in those around them, and the acceptance of one’s peers is a necessary, vital tool. We have become the biggest, harshest critics of ourselves and one another, for reasons I can only blame on our constant perversions of ‘celebrity’.
We revere the iconic hunks of Hollywood brilliance as a sounding board for our own unattainable dreams. We honor the likes of those beautiful, accomplished people whose lives are tossed within the public eye for entertainment beyond their celluloid walls. This meshing of entertainment within the scope of reality manages our desires and allows us to fantasize our lives; to add a dash of meaning to where live outside the boob tube takes place.
It is thus I expound my desires at this current trend, to uncover the underlying, insecurity of human kind in blog form. My only fear is that I too shall be pinned to an undercurrent of self obsession, typing away thoughts and intimacies for the world to exonerate.
I have four hundred multi-colored balloons ready to soar into the atmosphere for this key moment in my life. I am about to cut the ribbon. I must say how excited I am. I am very excited. I am taking out my gardening shears….there, I’ve clipped them, they’re gone. One didn’t make it. Oh well. Several are getting caught in power lines. A bird hit one. A stray cat has just eaten a pink one that popped. It is choking. They’ve all gone up now, past to where I can see them. I can now finally initiate my experiment into the heart of the American Social mindset, this epoch in communication. It shall rise as a bird, like my ballons. But then it will die. And then burn. And then from the ashes shall rise as a Phoenix. And then it will poop. And then it will die again. And then get hit by an ’86 Mazda traveling to Arizona to avoid the inevitable earthquake which will wipe out most of Southern California. Earthquake was a great movie.
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