You like ephemeral novelty, following the in the know trendsetters? The folks dying by bang and by whimper must be positively thrilled for you.
If inspiration might only be found in the manufactured, in the artificial and the cultivated, then perhaps you are simply not exposing yourself to enough of the world outside the gates of your community whether physical or ideological. Fuck art heartily, as millions go hungry, millions go without shelter, while entertainment provides nothing but commentary on the natural world, reactions to the natural world or deflections from the natural world altogether; forever incapable of anything meaningful without its contrast, or its foundation.
If you metaphorically gave at the office already and you feel your commitments are squared enough, but paying what you are begrudgingly informed is your fair share to repair a societal ill doesn’t quite resolve a given concern in finite terms, despairing needs remaining unsorted, then the basis of measurement for such matters which you rely on isn’t a tithe tasked with actual problem-solving so much as with pardoning your personalized neglect. Mere products come at a cost as their purpose is to affect your life, whereas culture is a matter affected by life and by grand design could and should be shared freely, but when culture as well comes with a price of admission, what value is life left with?
The content of our character as a value system has become so archaic we’ve now aspiring content creators kept thirsty enough to write down to their audiences, filling their consumpted emptiness with whatever Dymaxion doggerel necessary to keep the show on the road.
The only role permitted any of us is that of receptacle, the only things trickling down being shit and piss and rubbish, while the oxymoronic doublespeak of creative industry is an ongoing pursuit because no voids are actually being filled. Hollywood’s not about to close up shop over a job well done anytime soon. It functions explicitly as a waste of time and resources, carjacking them for the private gains of ego, rather than anything remotely approaching a common good. I have crushed on starlets aplenty, but we must realize that even the most acclaimed entertainers take from us time and resources, without giving us anything that might resolve the plethora of conflicts in our lives. The gatekeeper notion that motivation requires middlemen catalysts is perhaps the only real form of cultural re-appropriation, its popularity due entirely to the convenience of our identities being judged by which following we pledge fandom allegiance to as opposed to what we say and do ourselves.
Token sacrifices meet only with a tokenized peace of mind, all the fulfillment a life-long chain-smoker gets from a single cigarette, as opposed to the real thing where personal sacrifice meets with purpose cutting through the cacophony and endless sacrificing meets with the one and only meaning of life with universal applications. Were a benevolent afterlife to exist, you cannot bring your favorite piles of symbolic pablum with you. And even within the duration of existence in this measurable world of the here and now, if you cannot carry a thing with you then it only holds you back. All the esteem of your peers cannot even fill a colander, the admiration of strangers does not complete a puzzle and the enmity of persons faced with the very same lifetime choices as you will not displace your burdens. But what passes for this society depends fundamentally on your compulsory refusal to ever just let go of the security blanket. Where dancing shadows are cast for the bemusement of cowering personal comforts confined, hang on for all your worth.
Especially were others to need the hand. There really is nothing collective about collecting, whether baubles or stories or scars, but it’s what we are obliged to live for and it’s what we are obliged to die for all the same, by self-interests obsessively bent on masturbating til their own graves are full of it.