You're Only Young Once But You Can Be Stupid Forever

You're Only Young Once But You Can Be Stupid Forever
You're Only Young Once But You Can Be Stupid Forever

STAY STUPID FOREVER, BY HERE NOW!

OPTION 1

If the people in charge are smart, I want to be stupid.

The world is pretty fucked, and it's the supposedly smart people who've largely gotten us here. They are the people in the government, the ones in charge, the CEO's, the illionaires, the ones we adorn with glowing covers and adjectives.

The point is not to be stupid, it's to draw a clear distinction, a dramatic line in the sand, between yourself and those and that which is the problem.

Critical to note that this is not absolution. You don't get to throw your hands up and exclaim that since you're not a CEO you can't possibly do anything.

Critically, the realization should be the exact opposite - they are one, they are few, we are many.

Boycott brands and companies and media that are part of the problem.

Educate yourself about who they are, stop supporting them, help your friends see what you see and get them on board.

It DOES work.

If the people in charge are smart, I want to be stupid.

OPTION 3

I was reminded recently that I wrote these following words for the Rave 'Till You Cry booklet. It's also pertinent here, and perhaps about as close as an explanation of my work as I'll ever get, not that I'll stop trying.

Burn the damned art labels. Ambiguity is wonder. Information is an affront to expression, a death knell to spontaneity. For if an explanation is required, then a connection has failed to be made. Art should be like an overtone, resonating invisibly with your history to form an ethereal experience. Either it hits you or it’s wrong time, wrong place. To hell with the dawdling interviews and vanity shots. One turns to music precisely because it least resembles what’s in the mirror. Put away the arrogance and pride, and boast and bias. With each word uttered, your mystery wanes. Your shimmer dims. In my nostalgia, your light show is drowned out by the ricochet of soundwaves. Art is best when all else is drowned out. Black as though the moon forgot to come out. Let the night cover my flailing humanity like a veil. Gangly arms tangled, feet aflutter, yet all but silent against the din. This is not an escape. This is me screaming, happily, inside, out through my fingertips. This is my beck and call. Carefully assembled to draw forth some other form of you. May we partake in this moment together, for just a little longer

OPTION 3

Come back soon - unlike most, dead end, covers, this one is a living, quivering, thing. Imagine no longer what would happen if you could come back in the future and there is still a (one-sided) conversation going on.

New OPTIONS are coming soon...