Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in John Fucking Galt's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, April 20th, 2005
2:21 pm	Column 5 Column 5: Oh, God, did you eat all this Acid? This week it is my distinct pleasure to review the books I’m currently reading, and the psychedelic blend of nonsense bouncing between my synapses as result. After a brief stopover in standardized testing, we shall depart for that fearsome destination of insanity and brilliantly burning obscenity. Firstly, I wish to announce my awe at the power and magnitude of British craziness. Their humor on the whole stands in levels more profoundly absurd than any other culture could hope to reach. This spiel stems from my completion of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency Monday afternoon, and my finding it completely and irredeemably wonderful. The madness contained within those pages moved me so very greatly, perhaps as much as the madness and violence of Fight Club. A comparison between those two works may not be apt, but the underlying message of my current reading project contains an unquestionable parallel with the theme book of modern nihilism. The Illuminatus! Trilogy contains reads much like I expect the original notes from which Thompson constructed his opus fama (rather than magnum {it’s a Latin joke}), and is as confusing to read as those theoretical words would be. That being said, it brings me great joy with its almost lackadaisical approach to chaos. The Illuminati interest me, both for their more realistic description in Angels and Demons, and for their omnipotent presence in this maddening book. I call it maddening because prolonged bouts of reading it produce effects much like that of lysergic acid diethylamide (that’s LSD for those of you not in chemistry), a most entertaining, if not especially safe, experience for someone who longs to liven his school experiences up with a bit of madness and fabricated reality. This work, and everyone ought to at least consider reading it as it is very intriguing, has my most ardent support and devout support as an interesting take on the experiences many had during its Sixties setting. A note for those who search: though printing was on hiatus for a time, it is now produced again, and can be found in most large bookstores. The idea of a society dedicated to the enlightenment of chaos and free love (which means in all truth fucking whenever and whomever and wherever the urge strikes), by means of subtle conquest and cancerous outgrowth, reflects the dispersion of the self-loathing gospel of Tyler Derden and his Space Monkey followers. Their final goals, and even the steps taken in fictional accounts are so very similar. Considering that each was written in a time when the end of mankind by his own creations loomed realistically into life for even the most average man, one can hardly be surprised at their similarities. Project Mayhem represents the application of Illuminati rhetoric to the modern disbelieving times. The first rule of the Illuminati is that you don’t talk about the Illuminati. Doesn’t it just seem so right? (Comment on this)
2:21 pm	Column 3 Column 4: You Better Stop, You’re Making Him Mad… I must apologize for the late posting of this entry; I have been forced by certain events to delay my writing and posting in an effort to focus on school and family matters, none of which have any real bearing upon this column. Hence, I return to my real topic: Sin City and Quentin Tarantino, with a Departure into From Dusk ‘til Dawn. It was my distinct displeasure to discover that Sin City, while an effective experience and feast of wince-inducing sensory input, was not a movie which retained its impact. This no doubt has to do with the nature of the film’s content; the shocking nature of Basin City, once realized, has a much-reduced effect upon the viewer, as they understand, to paraphrase Sun Tsu, its true nature. Thus, Sin City is an excellent movie, entertaining to the end in the first viewing, and irritatingly insipid (and full of rampant overacting by several actors by far too able for such nonsense) following that first glorious try. This is how I understand cocaine to work, though cannot offer my personal affidavit on that matter, having never tried it myself. The matter of cocaine brings me to the other half of my topic for this column, which is Mr. Tarantino, who has added-though I will debate this later- so very much to the medium in which he is a figure. Sin City reeked of Taratino-esque moral duality, catastrophic violence, and utter futility, yet he apparently had very little to do with the actual making of the movie, filming only one minor scene in which two characters converse inside a speeding vehicle (alas, no accidental decapitations here). Yet the resemblance cannot be denied, meaning to me that Tarantino-type outlooks have soaked into our culture. I find the work of Mr. Tarantino to be as mixed a bag as school, and as such my personal feelings may confuse some. While I regard him as a person with contempt for his obsequious mockery of American pop culture, I find his work (including his writing and direction) is both an overrated example of gangster fascination, and a purely ridiculous mixture of so many genres that it creates a muddled mess much exemplary of America as a nation. From Dusk ‘til Dawn is a perfect example of this, as his script achieves fascinating brilliance in the violent and disturbing beginning, and segues unsuccessfully from that height of interest to a mediocre excuse to slay as many unbelievably made-up “vampires” as he and Rodriguez, who actually directed the movie, and whose work seems like a more real version of this part, are able to place on screen. There you have it, a reflection on a decent movie, and indictment of the weak-minded sloth of America’s popular cultural development, and an excuse to write pretentiously for a few moments. Current Music: Saturday Night - The Misfits (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 6th, 2005
8:51 pm	Column 3 This week's topic: Is it English Anymore? Once there existed a language used by every inhabitant of this great country in ways mutually comprehensible. I argue that a universal language today no longer exists as the desecration of our tongue brings separation closer and closer. A language is a method of speaking which is so unique as to be mutually incomprehensible, meaning that it cannot be understood by speakers of another organized system of sounds. Thus, German, French, English, and Dutch are different languages, though they might sound similar to a speaker of an entirely foreign language, e.g. Japanese. To the average English speaker, though they may not understand the finer elements of the language, the sounds produced by the mouths of those who freely speak their language are as understandable as those they themselves produce. This is an illustration of the above definition of language. Yet, in the modern era, a dialect of English has become so utterly dissimilar to the average language tought in the schools of the world as to seem alien. I speak of Ebonics, in this case, though 1337speak and Spanglish fit the bill as ably as the first. This racial slanguage could, and, as this suggests, ought to, be taken as a thing purely itself, unafilliated except by distant ties and vocabulary to its antecedent. This line of thought brings one to consider the linguae francae as being not bastardizations of a more structured language, but entire systems worthy of consideration by the linguist of the era. If we utilize this logic, we have then a group of people speaking not a special and detrimental form of brutish slang, but a street language of its own cloth. Yet the similarities between those lingoes mentioned above and modern English remain a sticking point in a more literal sense than traditional connotation. It is their closeness to English vernacular which will retain their connection until a greater difference developes. Current Mood: Ich ben ein gourd (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 1st, 2005
10:59 pm	I am William's raging bile duct. I feel like ranting, as I need to unload some of the wrath whirling around my otherwise occupied mind or I will simply crack and express my anger in a much less effective manner. With the radio set to the classic punk station, and my hands on the keyboard, it's time for the second entry. My intention at the offset was a simple raving against the utter silliness displayed by several people, who, by their lack of assent, shall remain nameless. I call them silly, yet to take a stance against them is to become exactly that which I loathe. I must therefore circumvent the issue and segue into a more general discussion of another topic related slightly: Humanity's tendency to take itself seriously. I admit openly to be a transgressor in this field no less than any other human, yet I feel the need to mention it due to its constant relevance. Humans need to relax. Were we to take a social "chill pill", with which the sincere and emotionally charged could relinquish their concern and realize that human life is simply a string of painfully ironic events which can only be fully appreciated by removing oneself from the moment. A view from outside the situation will for the most part reveal the painful humor abounding in it. This column failed, I feel, because of my need to be serious in the first place, a fact which shows above any other metaphor I could use the utter stupidity of seriousness during one's life. I will endeavor in the future to include more humor and irony in my writing, hopefully rescuing myself from the hole in which I dug myself with philosophical discourse. Current Mood: I am William's calm demeanor Current Music: Stiff Little Fingers - At the Edge (Comment on this)
Thursday, March 31st, 2005
10:54 pm	Column 1 - 03/30/05 I am William's smirking revenge upon the whole world. I am spacing for emphasis. Anyway, this is the first of my new blog entries, an informal formalized writing area for the expression of my rants, raves, opinions, and a forum for intellectual exercise. Now that the sarcasm is done, I return to my actual topic for the week: reading. Reading is a skill. This is an undebatable truth obvious both to those flabbergasted by the ignorance of the poorly read, and to them who find reading an incomprehensible waste of time better spent in the pursuit of a more rational goal. I myself fall into the category of bibliophile, and am actually angered by the indifference so many have for the accumulated wisdom held within the books of our society. I can think of two people with whom I have either had close ties, or have close ties still, who find reading "classics" to be a waste of their time. My point here is that a book is a classic if it causes the reader to reflect both upon the message of the author, and to listen to the inner opinion which gives human beings so much of their character, charm, and quality. Poetry, music, and movies are likewize subject to judgement based upon their ability to evoke such inner dialogs. As a person who relies so heavily upon books to spark creativity and intelligence, I find the idea of rejecting that awakening to be a distasteful misuse of a processing center granted only to a single species. What is a man who does not understand both the feelings of the great men of antiquity, and his own personal responses to those giant's opinions. A useful member of society must be educated beyond personal intrests, though, to some degree, and able to appreciate realms outside his own perspective. Reconsiling this with the modern worship of stylish ignorance and emotional rejection on the basis of personal feelings has proved to be a most difficult undertaking. How can we maintain a society of emotional wrecks or ingorami (get it? It's the nominative plural of ignoramous). Current Mood: Get funky now. Current Music: The Doors - Something I won't read (2 Comments |Comment on this)