Ass-holes

Recently, I have come into contract with a vast array of people who I can only describe as ‘Ass-holes’. Be it politicians, thieves, or the ultra cool elite of London, ass-holes pop up everywhere I seem to exist in and it is starting to grate. Why do these people have to exude this quality? Why do they have to ‘be’? And why do I always come into contact with them? I hope I am not alone in this and it would seem I am not. I always hear the same complaints about the same sort of people. ‘close-minded,’ ‘self-obsessed’ and ignorant. (sounds like ever estate agent I’ve ever met to me!) . Yet this is not just an opportunity to get these troubles of my chest. There is a point to all this. What I want to realise is why people can be such infuriating ass-holes, and I think I have found out why.

What it comes down to is that we are our own biggest fans. When we are alone, we chuckle at our own jokes, we agree with our own opinions and we subscribe to our own moral point of view but as soon as we step outside this all changes. Our opinions and values are challenged by the fact that there are other people who we recognise as having their own values and opinions.

As we walk down the street, lets face it, we judge people. Our high street is own catwalk. Why is this so? Because of other people. Not only do we judge, we feel judged as well, and quite rightly. In this way are values are provoked and we feel the need mask ourselves or present ourselves accordingly. We dress the way we do because we fear the other. We care too much about what people will think of us, that they won’t understand our personalities, that they won’t get us. We are scared that the other will judge us on how we look and how we present ourselves. How do I know this? Well, because I am the one judging you, the same as you will judge me. Have you ever walked down the street naked? No? Didn’t think so. We care to damn much about what people will think of us.

Now don’t worry. I’m not going to go on some existential rampage, all I am try to say is that this is the root off the ass-hole. Yet this alone is not what brings ass-holes into being. This angst about the other transcends deeper than just our clothing; our thoughts, our most deer, precious and private assets are effected by the other. I’m sure I am not alone when I say fear of embarrassing myself or revelling something others may find stupid or weird or offensive have hampered or prioritised my thought processes. As a result we conform. We conform to ideas, a style of clothing, artistic taste, ect… because it is easier and safer to do so. Predetermined values, usually composed by marketing executives (aka ass-holes), set us free from anxiety. We know how to dress and what to like and this is the reason for the ass-holes existence.

Now, before I go any further, I shall give you an example of an ass-hole. They come in different breeds and styles and we have all had run ins with them on a regular basis ( for example the ‘angry ass-hole,’ the ‘religious ass-hole’ the estate agent and David Cameron) but my favourite is the trendy ass-holes. This breed can usually be found inhabiting in only the coolest and cutting edge music bars and clubs that has been pre-determined but their magazines or fanzines (usually the NME or Vice), standing in silent judgement of each other and of any band that plays, too afraid to dance or criticise. These venues usually change every few weeks anyway so it takes a lot off effort to be an ass-hole of this commitment. As quickly as their taste in music changes, so does their outfits, usually overly expensive crap from a second hand shop adorned by a I-just-got-out-of-bed hair cut that blatantly took a good half hour to perfect., hence clearly marking them selves ass-holes. One defining aspect of their kind, a trend associated with most ass-holes, is their over powering erg to show themselves off, as if they are too good to be a secret, they must be seen as being cool! Usually you can see them chatting about gigs they’ve been to, drugs they’ve taken and about their shitty bands or post-modern prog-photography, just loud enough so that anyone in a ten meter radius can hear them and acknowledge that they are cool! God forbid you get roped into a convocation with one. They rattle off random band names that you have never heard of and smile smugly when you confess you don’t know who they are. If you offer a band name their flaccid eyes roll back and they will, as if possessed by an NME review, rattle off what ‘they’ think of that band.

I complain about these chodes but ultimately I’m to blame. If I never existed, there would be nothing for them to bounce their personalities off and prove who they ‘are’. The fact is that all these people are scared. They feel a need to conform and buy into a role in order to feel secure. The estate agent acts out the role of an estate agent because that is what is expected of him, as would a music fan of any genre would conform to the trends of that scene because it is the excepted thing to do, hence making it easier for people to be marketed and be sold defining crap. Is it a coincidence that indy kids all ware Converse? Is it a coincidence all rude bois ware tracksuit bottoms or new era hats? They have chosen their scene and subscribed to the approved stereotype.

Apart from the marketing executives defining cultures and personalities, I don’t see much wrong with this and it doesn’t make us all ass-holes but what makes an Ass-hole an ass-hole is the fact that they advertise themselves with gusto! Its as if they need to prove who they are what they like. They are trying to sell you their personalities, likes, dislikes through a medium of hair and clothing, all previously established with a strict code of conduct. They are in ‘bad faith’. Now I’m not saying that we’re immune to bad faith, we are all in it in some way. I act out the roll of an unemployed bum, you might act out the role of a student, or an office worker, or a policeman or a husband or wife. What makes you an ass-hole is when you are overtly conscious off this fact but refuse to believe that you are not an individual, that you are part of something un-organic. Self righteousness or a lack of acceptance of others the reason for ass-holes existence. We are so blinded by expectations of others and by being told what to wear, what values to uphold we have forgotten that not much of it matters. I’m not saying we can ignore the other and not choose how to live, we are forced into choosing a way to live by our own mortality, but we can choose not to subscribe so readily, we can choose not to be marketed to in such a calculated way, we can choose to see the banality and herd mentality in scenesters, we can choose to think that we are not infallible. Choose to ignore this and you will be doomed to become an ass-hole.

dude...that film was surreal!

Recently,I have been watching some major and mainstream films. Possibly the most uninteresting sentence you will hear today but I am unemployed and need something to occupy my brain. One thing has struck me about a lot these films: there seams to be a lot of surrealist undertones.

"so what? Get a life and a job, hippy!"

fair point but to me this is uncharacteristic of Surrealism .The Surrealist movement was seen as a very ‘underground’ and exclusive world at its conception, encompassing such great names of the art and film world like the great surrealist artist Dali and director Andre Breton. Up until the nineteen twenties and even nineteen thirties no one in the film industry ever took too much notice of the surrealist world (despite many collectives and groups having sprung up all over Europe and South America, the ‘Dada’ group being its most profound) either because its depictions of eyes getting sliced by moon light, the sexual undertones, taken from Freudian psychology, or the dream-like qualities Surrealism was founded on, visible in such films like ‘Un Chien Andalou’ and ‘Exterminating Angel,’ were seen as too risky for the times or people just were not aware of this movement. Yet in the nineteen thirties, surrealism had found its way into mainstream Hollywood. This would seem the irrational choice for the direction of surrealism (perhaps that is why it took it!), its founding principles were generally to spite Hollywood and embrace the ‘uncanny’ while embracing Marxist and anarchistic ideologies. To Surrealist directors Hollywood was the epitome of bourgeois values. So how did Surrealism become so visible in Hollywood? Could it be that the Surrealist influence in the mainstream was coincidental? Or could we even find ‘involuntary’ Surrealism in these films? Or perhaps some Surrealist directors had abandoned their political principles?

Hollywood, a symbol to this day of the mainstream, as I have already stated, is normally hated by the Surrealist community. To them it regulates their dreams and has destroyed many potentially surrealist films. But as Hollywood was entering its ‘golden age’ in the nineteen thirties and twenties, more and more producers were looking for talented and original directors. This would have been a very compromising position for many surrealist directors. On the one hand they did not want to conform to Hollywood and its values but on the other the lure of a big film to put across their ideology must have been very tempting. Many Surrealist directors did not take these offers up but certainly some directors, who were at least influenced by Surrealism like Clarence Brown, Josef Von Sternberg and Alfred Hitchcock, did. Despite not many surrealist directors not wanting to be part of the ‘production line’, Hollywood could not regulate all of its expansive regions so mavericks and non-conformists stepped up and filled the void

Yet despite this intake of surrealist directors, many films still have seemingly surrealist moments and views. Is this just me seeing things or 'involuntary surrealism?' Involuntary surrealism can be identified in two ways in mainstream films: accidentally or ethically. Involuntary surrealism comes more from a moral side, in that it is up to the individuals consciousness to recognise what is surreal and what isn’t. To non-surrealist directors, involuntary surrealism could be seen as a problem. Different interpretations could ruin the message of the film and make it be seen in a different light, disturbing narratives and opening up themes that did not mean to be opened and therefore leaving the film with an inconclusive message. On the other hand, involuntary surrealism could give the film a new perspective. It opens the film up to ‘irrational enlargement’. Irrational enlargement is an arbitrary question that helps you look at a film in a new dimension. So, if I asked ’at what moment did a snowfall take place in the film’? Even if there was no snowfall, the question induces the viewer to see what is invisible in it. Another example is: ‘in what location outside the action does the film take place?’ The answers are no less arbitrary than the questions and do little to tell us about the film itself.

What it does do though is take the viewer away from the obvious points of the film and engages their imagination as well as encouraging an acceptance of the ‘uncanny’. So say If were to ask the question ‘in what location is the film ‘vertigo’ (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958) set in and where did the action take place?’ The answer would be San Francisco but really the action and the set are in a studio in Hollywood. San Francisco is the place of desire, where the ‘desiring lens’ of the viewer wants the action to be taking place but in actual fact it takes the viewer to a place where neither are true, (the film is not in San Francisco and the studio is not the reality) but yet, in a sense both are true, as, for the viewer, the belief allows him/her to think the film is set in reality and therefore the set is breading truth.

Other than deliberately looking for Surrealism, some genres of film gave Surrealism a breading ground and a chance to flourish. comedy, horror and love are the most key genres for surrealism inside the mainstream. Comedy, in particular, was a fantastic platform for surrealism. Such actors like Charlie Chaplin (despite not being a surrealist, his films could be arguably surreal with or without th help of involuntary surrealism),Harold Lloyd and the Marx brothers all brought their taste of anarchy to the set, creating what has been called a ‘custard pie morality.’ The ideas that surrealism were founded upon can be seen in the ideas and thoughts of these comedy greats. Groucho Marx agrees:


“We hold the theory that we shouldn’t be suppressed. When we see a pompous fellow in a high silk hat swelled up with his own importance and sniffing and sneering at folks as they pass, we do exactly what the rest of the world would do. We heave a ripe tomato at the hat. If we suppressed that desire we would not be normal.”

Here we can see one fundamental points of surrealism: freedom from suppression. This could be seen as surrealism with in comedy at least. Despite not being an out and out Surrealists, acts like the Marx brothers do highlight a surrealist ethic.

Horror was again a breading ground for Surrealism within the mainstream. Horror films confronted the audience with such prominent themes of surrealism like death, hidden desires as well as examining our morality. The horror genre confronts us with our worst fears. It scairs us with thoughts that the fragile comfort of hard working societies will be ruined, that nothing will remain of the ordinary circumstances of humanity and that death is impending. King Kong would be a great example. the miraculous nature of a giant gorilla bring the infallible New York almost to its knees confronts us with a thought that the miraculous in life is out to get us. Also the model of King Kong with the way it moves is surreal enough, showing off another theme of surrealist film: embracing the uncanny. Models and claymation are favourates with Surrealist film makers. Look at Tim Burton if you disagree.

Love, again was a topic that surrealists could easily manipulate. Contrary to a traditional Hollywood love film, Surrealist interpretations of love usually shows it in a negative light, full of strife and longing along with Freudian undertones. Blue Velvet is a great example(Ok OK tequnically a thriller but still). An all American boy with a suppressed love for a foreign, crazed woman, who should, by societies standards, choose the beautiful all American girl. Not to metion Frank, the crazy sadist of a man who screams out "MUMMY!" when he comes.Freud! I've found you your birthday present!

So what has been the point of pointing this out? who cares wither surrealism has got a grasp on the mainstream? If you dont really care about these thing I wouldn't expect you to but I recon to understand a film, to fully enjoy it, to get the most out of it, its good to ask these questions and examine films properly. If you disagree then I suggest you go watch 2012 or Sex in the City or some shit.

The Beautiful Cult

Don't be thrown by the title, there is a beautiful cult. If I were to utter the feared syllable 'cult' to you, I'm sure images of collectives chanting and praising a foreign and alien cause pollutes you brains. Every synapses of thought breads a negative connotation at the mere utterance of the word 'cult'. Yet during this summer the biggest cult in the world has once again reviled itself as a bringer of hope, love, tolerance and passion.

I am, of course, talking about the cult of football.

I know, I know, football isn't technically a cult, its a sport, surly? Wrong! Football is as much a cult as anything else I can think of. The irrational loyalties, the sporadic indulgence of pleasure, the chastising of individuals and the view that a singular brain dead, charismatic, egotistical person can be elevated to a status of a god are all a defining feature of cults. Football is no exception.

I urge you all to look at football at South America, in particular Argentina. There, football is not just a past time, it is a way of existing. From the age of five, boys are given a football. Not a crucifix, not money, not a flag, a ball, and they worship it. The masters of this circular object become written into folk-law. If you speak to an Argentinean about football, their reply will be "Maradona!". This cheating, ego driven, turd of a man who's mind is fuelled by the fact he can kick (and punch) well and warped by the multiple drugs that have ruined rationality and his grip on reality is the undisputed leader of this cult. He even has his own church for fuck sake! Hero is his playing years, God in his managerial era, a failure in many respects, he is supremely respected. Recently in a bid to gain popularity, Cristina Fernandez, the charismatic (by which I mean HOT) president of Argentina, commissioned a statue of Maradona in Buenos Aires to get a sceptical public on side.

If you were to compare Maradona to other Cult leaders like Jim Joans, L Ron Hubbard and Toney Alamo you will find they share a common ground. They all possess Superficial charm, manipulation skills, (how Maradona convinced a referee he didn’t use his hand is beyond me.)a grandiose sense of self and lack of remorse. Its not just Maradona that posses these qualities, look at Eric Cantona ("I am not a man, I am Cantona!" Knob.) and Jose Morinio, the self professed 'chosen one' who, much like L Ron Hubbard, ran off with a load of money when their promises failed to materialise.

Every team like every cult has its own ideology. Admittedly a lot of the time its WIN or MONEY(another aspect of cults) but if you cast these aside and scratch the surface, you can see all teams, big and small, have ideologies and out looks to rival most cults. FC Barcelona is a great example. It is a symbol of freedom and rebellion in the Basque region of Spain, of beautiful football, big names, egos and promises of glory and superiority. It’s motto: ‘More Than A Club’ says it all. For the city it is not just a mere football team, its an obsession. Citizens parade around the streets of the ‘Camp Nau’ (even the name sounds like a commune!) uniformed in red and blue. This overt existentialism shows who they are, their values and allegiances. They chant in unison , display banners, hand out leaflets and magazines. Sound familiar? Maybe because cults use the same approach to show you their values, their promises and superiority. Go round any football stadium and the same things are repeated. Clubs are eager to recruit new fans and members, even more so than most cults.

Ever tried to challenge a cult member on his beliefs? I don’t recommend it. A torrent of abuse and double-back flip metaphysical , fantastical ARSE TALK usually follows. Now ever told a football fan his/her team are shit? Again, I don’t recommend it. An example I will give is from a football match I went to: Arsenal vs. Everton. Great game! Goals, drama, crunching tackles, finesse, gasp equalisers and deafening support from sixty thousand fans. (a rarity at the Emirates I can tell you!) After the game, while Everton fans trudged off to their coaches to take them back to the nasal and flem-ridden city of Liverpool, a lone gooner (Arsenal fan) showered them with abuse. Within a space of seconds the gooner was on the floor with a contingent of toffees (Everton fans) standing over him, eyes bulging, to transfixed on this man who dare insult their illustrious, faultless Everton to notice the group of gooners running in to protect their brethren and, to put it bluntly, fuck shit up. And fuck shit up they did! Now to me this is far worse than a barrage of words from a conventional cult member, this was GBH! Perhaps Scientology would fuck shit up a bit more sneakily with their private investigators and blackmail but I doubt they would at a drop of a hat kick seven shades out of a random person for saying the wrong thing and the wrong time.

I’m sure many of you now feel that football is even worse than you previously thought but I am in no way lampooning it. I myself am a proud member of this cult! This world cup I was promised greatness, redemption and glory from the English national team. I adorned myself in red and white, chanted the songs, the prayers of a man blinded from truth and rationality. We were going to win! All hale Capello, saviour! Creator of talent! Knower of all things round! But no. Just like all cults, disillusionment set in. England, a team who couldn’t kick themselves out of a wet paper bag, of course, underachieved being knocked out by four goals to one by ‘ze Germans’ .

So what have we leaned? Firstly football is a cult. Secondly it is very similar to a lot of other darker cults. Despite the similarities, there are a lot of differences as well. Football brings people together in more positive ways than, say, the ‘children of god’ cult, who’s idea of ‘bringing people together’ was full blown child rape. Football helps create community, promotes tolerance, keeps you healthy and gives you something to talk about down the pub. Football fans are usually articulate, witty and rational people (most of the time). I am yet to meet a rational cult member from any other cult. Football, the beautiful cult, is a passionate and great affair. I’m sure most other cults say the same about their cults but their wrong. My cult is the best, the ONLY cult worth following! After all, bare-faced denial and ignorance, who can beet it!?

wasting my youth

Wasted youth. A topic I am sad to say, I do not really have much licence to comment on. In order to paint a picture of this topic, I turned to the most debauched people I know: my housemates. The true spirit of Deionises flows through their veins, either that or endorphins, so who else better to tell me what wasted youth is?

Over the course of knowing them, they have regaled me with stories of unspeakable darkness and personal destruction. One contingent of my house once fell asleep in the depths of winter, in the snow, down a dark ally due to a culmination of substances. Eventually he was found by a passer by who mistook him for a dead body. After the police and ambulances arrived, he was promptly taken to get his stomach pumped. To celebrate the fact that he was not in fact dead, he repeated this act the following night, this time passing out in a grave yard, in the snow. Another strapped coke bottles filled with petrol to a firework. Why? “I liked explosions” was the answer. Due to the added weight, it veered off, smashing into his parents’ living room. Needless to say the damage inflicted was enough for him to try and run away to Southampton. ( I have no idea why Southampton.) Clearly I am in the presence professionals!

The descriptions of wasted youth perpetually brought up when I quiz these lords of debauchery on the topic of wasted youth are pikey teens loitering outside off-licences, guzzling down flagons of ‘White Ace’, burnouts smoking mindmelting skunk in their colleges,in only the most dank and decrepit toilets that no sober mind would enter, or the individual rebel, the ultimate outsider, who has read ‘the basket ball diaries’ one too many times and has decided that’s the life for them.

True, these are all what we would classically define as wasted youth, decades of film and media since the nineteen fifties, since the emergence of the ‘teenager’ have reinforced that drinking, drug taking, sex and moving in societies outside the status quo are all sure ways to ‘waste’ your youth. Yet, at the risk of sounding contrary, I do not believe that these pictures of wasted youth are correct.

To prove my point I shall tell you the trials and tribulations of my youth: Nothing happened. My youth was horrifically normal. I turned up for school, studied and got OK grades. Your typical middle class, middle of the road kid. I never really pushed boundaries because why should I? Its bad to push boundaries and its far safer at home than at a dangerous party where bigger boys are taking (duh duh duuuuuuh)…DRUGS! I tried to throw away my youth; once when I hung around some punks that used to sniff glue. (I know, painfully cliché) This was to be my road to a ramshackle life! But no. I was too much of a pussy to keep it up. I was going to work hard. I was going to avoid trouble. I was going to achieve.

I can hear your internal monolog; “ Hang on, what was the point of this description of youth? You sound like a little prick that pussied out on his adolescent years! Hardly Jack Kerouac were you?” Well firstly, blow me. Secondly That is my point. I wasted my youth. These other kids who spent the best years of their lives off their faces on chemicals stolen from chemistry class, telling adults to go fuck themselves weren’t wasting their youths, they were embracing it!

Looking back I now realise how pointless most exams I took actually were, how unnecessary most of school is and I now realise that my parents lied about pretty much everything to do with drugs, drink and sex, or they just said nothing at all. The amount of time I wasted in GCSE home economics or D.T boggle my mind now. What possessed me to stay? I should have been doing what all the smart kids were doing: Bunking off. I should have been down the park drinking pure ethanol, while fingering a girl with one hand and happy slapping a small child with the other, of course with my hood up! Call me crude all you want, I would have been having fun, embracing my youth. In stead I was too busy ‘achieving’.

Now I’m not saying that all adolescents should pick up a crack pipe and disregard education. I don’t want a society of junkies, after all, zombie films creep me out. What I am saying is all I got out of my youth was a few mediocre A-levels. I can’t regale you with stories of coke and sex parties. I cant tell you of times I almost got busted by the police for anything. The first time I got drunk was when I was seventeen, only leaving a meagre year of underage drinking. Pretty poor I know. I can’t say I grabbed my youth with any vigour, in fact I threw it away. I wasted it. I never really lived in my youth, I merely existed.

I think it is important to experiment while your still young. Upon leaving home and entering the unforgiving bright lights of London I had no idea where to stop with indulgences, because I had never really indulged in anything leading up to this point and this can be dangerous. I’ve had my fingers burnt a lot of times because I am still learning. I wasted my youth as well as opportunities to learn life lessons.

So I say to the youth of tomorrow, before it is too late, go out! Explore! Push boundaries! If you don’t you are in severe danger of wasting your youth