The Overexamined Life of A.V. Phibes

Welcome to my Blog! I kiss you!

Hello, gentle reader.  I am A.V. Phibes. I am probably best known as an artist.  I've made a bunch of comics, I've been in some plays, I've written a play, I've run away and joined the circus. I created Evilkid Productions awhile back.  I still sometimes do artwork and stuff.  If you want to see my cat (which you do) she is at omgkitty.com. I also have a tumblr blog where I link to random things I find amusing. I'm on Twitter, Last.fm, and youtube. I'm also on Livejournal (though I just post the same stuff I post here.)    

You say tomato, I say rape: why I liked “that joke"

So here is the backstory:  On December 17^th, 2010 (the 9/11 of twitter), a twitter user by the name of @slashleen posted a tweet (since deleted) that said:

“I like it when people get offended by rape jokes because that means they’ve been raped and that’s hilarious.” 

 I gave the tweet a “star.” Which is a way on twitter of marking tweets you like. Why did I do that?  Because it’s hilarious when people get raped?  No, genius, because I thought it was a clever joke and frankly, I gave it kudos for audacity.  Since I’m kind of OG when it comes to reading (and occasionally making) morally inappropriate humor on the interwebs, I know where the “line” usually is and this joke just stepped right over that line.  It stepped over the line and then raped it. Would I have gone there? Hell to the no…I don’t have time to deal with that kind of shitstorm. But I was amazed that someone went there anyway.

So anyway, this rape grenade dropped on twitter and some people, obviously (that’s the whole point of the joke… get it?) got offended and started writing outraged tumblr posts.  The lady ones were mostly like “Rape is bad and talking about rape in any way that is not super cereal is like raping all the ladies in the world with your mind-penis.” And the dude ones were like “I will punch all rapists in the face with my giant cock which I use to protect innocent ladies, so form a line on the right, because my cock is large and sensitive enough to protect all of your precious vaginas from harm.” This then started an orgy of self-congratulation in the form of stars and re-tweets and people getting all up each other’s asses (consensually) to show that they are superior for thinking rape is bad, which was a total shocker since I was under the impression everyone thought rape was awesome. 

Now, if you think I’m being too easy on the joke, let’s go into context: if this joke had been posted on, say a R.A.I.N.N. messageboard, I probably would have been appalled, too, since that would be crazy mean and fucked up.  But, no.  It was posted on twitter where people joke about doing PCP and killing hookers and jacking off in playgrounds and people are like LOLSTARS!. 

 Within that context, I thought the uproar was kind of ironic and I laughed and rolled my eyes and lost some followers, and even got blocked (for a joke that WASN’T EVEN MINE).  Then I thought: “Oh god, now the joke just went from audacious to kind of brilliant. BECAUSE NOW IT IS A WHOLE CONCEPTUAL THING.”   But the community shaming/shunning had been laid down and the idea was that “if you don’t condemn that joke, you hate women, think they should be raped and are a terrible person.”

Okay, I might be a terrible person.  I don’t know @slashleen… she (if it is a she) doesn’t even follow me.  I have decided to be the advocate for this particular devil for the lulz and because I love over-intellectualizing shit and I’m kind of  impressed with the major pwnage she scored with that joke.

 Also, I was concerned that people on Twitter were acting like n00bz who don’t understand the internets and still think it’s serious business.

 So even though I think writing long, opinionated blog posts is for self-important tools who are wasting their lives, I am, ironically, writing a long, opinionated blog post and therefore I’m totally being That Guy and should kill myself.

 BUT I like to think that because I am here for the lulz and not to kill anyone’s boner with Very Serous Business, I’m just gonna go with it.  Also, since my blog posts are rare and magical gifts from heaven, I am really just doing this to make the people smile.  I am a carer AND a sharer! 

SO NOW I EXPLAIN “THAT JOKE:”

 Okay, so I can see that people might just worry that making a joke like that means that there will be dullards who don’t get the whole satire/meta thing and and go “hell yeah! let’s go get all rapey in this hizzy! LOL high-five, brah!”

And maybe that’s why it’s okay that it got taken down. But I just want to explain why someone could like that joke for reasons other than thinking rape is hilarious, which I don’t, and I don’t even think that rape jokes are always hilarious.  A lot of people try to do abuse-themed shock humor and suck at it and just sound like creeps.  Anyway…

 So here’s what some people think the joke is:  “Violence against women is funny.”  Do I think that?  I’m a fucking woman, what do you THINK, dumbass.  Also, men get raped, too, you sexist fuck.

Here’s what I think the joke is:  “People get really offended by rape jokes, so I’m going to acknowledge that and then follow it with a rape joke calculated to get people super offended as an illustration of the former while simultaneously flippantly negating the outrage which was anticipated and created, thus creating this clever self-referential loop.”

 So, Reason #1 that I like the joke: It’s postmodern. It’s using a taboo to  parody and remark on human behavior and social mores. We could view it as a piece of shock art where the thing and the reaction to the thing meld to create a more dynamic whole.  And so the fact that people reacted in the predictable way to it means that it is now a two-part spectacle:  The joke was merely the jumping-off  point  for the more interesting drama of the reaction to the joke (which was foretold in the joke.) 

 And here’s what the n00bz don’t get:

 Reason #2 why I like the joke:  It is a perfectly executed troll.  If there were a trolling Olympics and I were a judge, I would be holding up a sign that says “10.”  Sure, trolling is dickish, but it can also be kind of brilliant.  Go read this article about trolls, to learn more but if you were offended by “the joke” I would strongly recommend you don't spend too much time on Encyclopedia Dramatica.

Still, I would like to requote the quote on that page:

 “Trolling is throwing a plastic bone in a cage with hungry wolves – they’ll fight for it to the death just to find it’s not edible.”

 So the whole point of the joke is that it was formulated to cause a shitstorm, and then it actually caused a shitstorm. Meaning that people totally fell for the troll, which is the whole point of trolling, so the troll wins.  People wasted their time arguing the wrong point with someone who doesn’t give a shit.  This is known as “being pwned.”  Therefore, @slashleen wins at the internet.

Things I am not going to use in defense of “the joke”  because I think they’re too obvious and possibly douchey:

1. The first amendment

Evoking the “right to free speech” is basically what people do to make themselves seem like heroes when people call them on their shit.  Not that the first amendment isn’t rad and all, but getting flag-wavey over a tasteless joke seems like overkill.

 2. “Everyone has a right to their opinion… if you don’t like it, unfollow.”

The above statement is usually just a way of high-horsing your way out of an argument, and this was never an argument. This isn't about "opinions."  It's more about me making fun of people who front like they’re all edgy and then turn into facebook grandmas when the shit hits the fan.

3. “I or someone I know was raped, so I know what I’m talking about.”

I’ve seen enough awful things in real life to know that words on the internet are not the same as actual atrocities. I also think using personal tragedy as some trump card to shame people into letting you say whatever the fuck you want is douchey, as is the “my tragedy makes me more special than your tragedy” game.  Also, people who are all like "I tell tasteless jokes on twitter, but let me tell you this serious story about my life to show you that I am sensitive and deep" have already made tumblr a total drag.

So at this point, I think I’ve said all I need to say and if you have read this far, then you are obviously a rapist. PWND!

Why ladies love Severus Snape: A detailed primer. (chock full of spoilers, in case you care)

 All images used were culled from our friend, the internet.

So I was sitting around playing Marry/Fuck/Kill with the Potterverse and was like “I’d totally fuck Snape, obviously.” Then it occurred to me that, among the smorgasbord of cute young boys, why would the “obvious” sexual choice be a gnarly old goth who’s a dick to everyone?

Initially, it doesn’t seem to make much sense, since, in the novels, even though he’s a fairly complex character, there’s not really a drop of sex on him and he’s mostly described as being mean and ugly. In spite of this, HP fandom is bursting at the seams with ladies who are hot and bothered for Snape. Some fervently embrace it, others feel strangely confused about it, but it is nonetheless true that ladies love cool Snape, and-- fear not-- I’m going to tell you why in a convenient 5 point format:

1. Alan Rickman’s Voice
A huge portion of Snape lust can be simply attributed to the casting of Alan Rickman in the movies. While Alan Rickman is an average-looking dude and kinda over-the-hill, it is an anecdotally observed phenomenon that the timbre and tempo of Alan Rickman’s voice triggers some sort of primal mating instinct in females. Reviewers—female ones, that is-- have used all sorts of metaphors for Alan Rickman’s voice: Velvet, silk, chocolate, red wine…basically, stuff that ladies love. Have you ever listened to audio of Alan Rickman reading stories? Well I have, and I cannot tell you a single plot point of any of those stories because all I could think about is having hot sex with Alan Rickman who is old enough to be my father and not at all my type.

Guys don’t get it (which I hypothesize is why he tends to be cast as a villain in guy movies and a romantic object in chick movies). It would seem you have to have a vagina in order to experience the aphrodisiac qualities of Alan Rickman’s voice. It’s almost a rite of passage into womanhood: You get your period, you have your first kiss, and you have the first time you go see a movie with Alan Rickman in it and leave feeling all funny, thinking “wow, that guy is such a… um… good actor.” because Alan Rickman’s voice just totally made sweet dirty love to your ear holes.

So now, thanks to the Harry Potter movie franchise, there is a whole new generation of adolescent girls who hear things like this and then feel all strange and confused about their inappropriate longing to make out with a guy practically old enough to be their grandfather. Fear not, young ladies: You can’t help it. It’s just science.

2. He’s dark and Mysterious
This one is so obvious as to almost be cliché. It the same reason chicks dig vampires. Ladies often respond to strong emotions and fear and confusion can be strong emotions. If you combine this with an initial attraction, a young lady who doesn’t know any better can easily presume that maybe she’s madly in love with a guy just because he’s a little scary and confusing (See also: Twilight).

So let’s look at Snape: Is he dark? Yes. Along with the severe black outfit, he’s got a titillating air of menace and danger. Mysterious? Definitely. Is he a good guy? Is he a bad guy? Where do his loyalties lie? Does anyone really know what he’s up to? So many questions! How desperately we ladies want to uncover his secrets! The “scary and confusing” factor, aside from being exciting, can also totally disrupt a ladies sense of control over a situation, which can also be stimulating if attraction is involved (which it obviously is because, duh, Alan Rickman’s voice). Leading us to…


3. The whole S&M vibe
It is not a mere coincidence that the interwebs contain about ten million smutty fanfics about what transpires when Snape keeps students after class for detention. Consult a list of the top ten female sex fantasies and you will see “being dominated” and “teacher/student” sitting right next to each other. The character of Severus Snape is a teacher… A very strict teacher. When he tells you to do something, you do it. These kind of power/control fantasies are pretty common (and hot). Add “dark and mysterious” and the wanton suggestiveness of Alan Rickman’s voice into the mix and you’ve just created a perfect storm of female masturbation material. Under these circumstances, having Snape say lines like “I shall attempt to penetrate your mind and you shall attempt to resist me” is almost too much to deal with.

4. He’s a jerk
We’ve all heard the old saw “Women don’t like nice guys… they like jerks” usually being muttered by some jerk who thinks he’s a nice guy. The truth is that women DO like nice guys, BUT, they also like jerks sometimes. As someone who’s dated my fair share of sociopaths, I’ll try to shed some light on this for you.

One thing to establish is that most women don’t like jerks because they want to be treated badly. Rather, they want the guy who’s a jerk to everyone but them. They’re hoping for the victory of biting through his hard candy shell and getting to his sweet tootsie roll center. Jerks possess the alluring qualities of power and confidence… although usually taken to a dysfunctional level. Since most of us have to be nice most of the time, the jerk can also provide a vicarious, liberating thrill as he brazenly breaks all the rules of social propriety.

So when Snape goes around being an asshole and not taking anyone’s shit, it’s actually kind of a turn-on. (Some women also labor under delusions that they can “reform” the jerk, although this is usually a recipe for disaster. )

If I may, however, give some advice to the youth of America, it’s this: Don’t have relationships with jerks. I’m not saying you can’t have hot flings with the occasional jerk in your experimental youth, because, truthfully, they ARE pretty exciting in the short term, but any guy who’s a jerk to everyone else will eventually be a jerk to you. Trust me. To put it in HP terms: fuck all the Slytherins you want, but if you want to get serious, find a nice Hufflepuff.

5. He’s all tortured and misunderstood and crying on the inside and shit.
Okay, so maybe after a long day of antagonizing Harry Potter, insulting his students and generally sneering and being curt, Snape goes down to his room in the dungeon, turns on The Cure’s “Disintegration,” and cries while hugging his pillow, because deep down inside he’s all wounded and sensitive.

Remember what I said in the last bit about the tootsie roll center? Well Snape’s is a doozy. He came from an abusive, neglectful home, got bullied in school and then watched as his BFF/love of his life kicked him to the curb and married the guy who bullied him. Now she’s dead and he feels responsible, so he’s sworn to save her son’s ass from Voldemort even though he partly hates him because he looks like the dude who pantsed him in high school. Meanwhile, everyone just thinks he’s a dick because of the cold, stoic façade he’s constructed to hide his inner turmoil. But he’s secretly doing good…GOOD, DAMN IT! So much heartache! So much angst! So much wounded inner child desperately needing the right woman to hug his pain away!

 

Chicks often dig romantic fantasies of being the special, insightful one to understand the misunderstood guy, thus breaking through his misanthropic exterior and being rewarded with all of his ardent, pent-up passion. Combined with the Jerk factor, this would seem to present a situation where you could have your hot, rough, pinned-against-the-wall sex and your sweet butterfly kisses, too. In real life, this typically doesn’t result in anything but a dysfunctional relationship, but it seems pretty sexy on paper.
 

 

In Summary:

Okay, so we’ve got a dark and mysterious guy with an air of danger and a dominating personality who’s in a position of authority. He’s a total jerk and doesn’t take anyone’s shit, but it’s only because he’s all emo on the inside. Top that off with a voice that makes EVERY DAMN THING sound erotic and BAM: Ladies love Snape.

And so I hope that this sheds some light on why I would obviously fuck him… although I’m totally marrying Hagrid…and killing Peter Pettigrew. That guy is worthless.

Confessions of a professional artist. How I did it and how you may or may not be able to do it, too.

 So, here's the deal:  For the past ten years or so, I've been a "professional artist," in as much as the bulk of my income comes from illustration, design, or licensing of said illustrations and designs.  If you know me, you know that this has been a mixed bag.  It's still pretty standard for people to be all impressed and say things like "how lucky you are to do what you love!" and I've certainly had occasion to say "NO, I HATE IT!!!" but, ultimately, it seems to be what's worked for me.   As such, the youth of America sometimes asks: How can I do it, too?  

First, I have a confession:  I sometimes feel guilty about being a professional artist.  Why?  Because I know that there are lots of people who are better artists than me and who probably want it more badly than me and there are people who got college degrees in it, for god's sake... but I'm the one getting the checks in the mail.  I'll admit up front, I'm not a terribly amazing artist.  It's not that I don't have any skillz (I am good at what I'm good at), it's just that I constantly see tons of artists who can draw and paint circles around me. In fact, my hand-drawing skills actually seem to get WORSE with time.  So why do I deserve what I've gotten? Isn't it just evidence of cosmic injustice?

I'll also admit: when I see people who are good artists who just do it as hobby, it throws me off a little.  I'm like the prostitute standing there saying "You do this for FUN? REALLY?  Don't you know you can get paid?"  But, truthfully, I'm not that jaded.  I remember what it's like to make art just because you want to see a picture from your mind take shape in front of you. Honestly, it's a more satisfying process, but I've crossed the Rubicon and now, for better or worse, I can never do art without thinking about how to make money off of it.

But, I am fortunate in that I'm good at making art that is "commercially viable."  I make art in a way that seems to appeal to people on kind of a shallow level and, frankly, I'm okay with that. I was one of those shy kids who had trouble relating to my peers and found that drawing them pictures was one of the only things I could do to curry favor (After reading Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography, I think this psychological profile might be kind of standard for cartoonists.) Basically, I learned to do art that would please other people. That is one facet of why I've been able to do this.

The other facet?  I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again:  In order to do art as a business, you have to know how to do business as well as you know how to do art.  You've got to be a hustler, and by that I mean you have to be the sort of person who's always looking for the angle to make a buck.  When I started, I wasn't as savvy as I am now, but I was organized and I knew how to make a plan and figure out what I needed to learn to pull it off and I was willing to learn those things.  

I was also willing (or naive enough) to take whatever risks I had to.  I invested in some costly promotional activities on credit and I haven't had health insurance in ten years. For me, this is not really a sacrifice and I don't consider it particularly courageous.  I'd rather face an unknown future with a lot of freedom than face a known future that's limiting and unsatisfying. I suppose it's a personality thing. It's also because I don't have kids or assets or the proverbial "anything to lose." I guess you also have to be a bit of an optimist.  You have to believe that the unknown future has a jackpot waiting in order to keep gambling. 

I also had the benefit of good timing.  If you underestimate the importance of that, I recommend you read Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell.  I launched my career in a time and place that was creatively booming, so success was easier for a scrappy young hustler like myself to stumble back-asswards into.  Also, my "success" has been very roller-coasteriffic.  I have never had the same income from one year to the next and my jobs and projects are very random and inconsistent.

Rather than ramble on, allow me to clarify what my points are:

Things that (I think) you need to become a professional artist:

1. An organized approach to planning and execution.

2. A part of you that likes to hustle for money and constantly look for fresh opportunities.

3. A willingness to learn a lot of things on the fly (how to build a website...  how to use graphics software... how to read and write contracts... etc.)

4. Low risk-aversion.

5. An ability to give people what they want.

6. Luck

So, sadly, it's not about being the best artist or having a degree. It's really about all of the above combined with the decision that you really want to do it. So, long story short, that's how I'm a professional artist.  Results may vary.

Why cats like closets...

 

 

Eco-freak tote bag? Yeah, Go fuck yourself.

Oh, hello there tote bag.  What's that?  You're saving the planet?  And implying that I'm not?  Well listen to this "green" tip:  Go fuck yourself.  Yeah, you heard me, bag.  I don't need your fucking self-righteous attitude. 

Look,  I'm just trying to browse this stationery store and you have to go and get all up in my face with your attitude.  Who the hell do you think you are?  You think you're better than me?  What am I doing to save the planet?  First of all: NOT BUYING SOME ASSHOLE BAG THAT'S MADE IN CHINA LIKE YOU!

Oh, I'm sorry, where you shipped from China in a boat that's fueled by eco-friendly unicorn jizz?  Is that why you're so fucking special?  Is that why you're all up in my grill acting like you're saving the motherfucking world?  You know, I have a closet full of bags I can use. I dont' have to BUY a smug fucker like you.  YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!  

Oooh... you're "reusable," big fucking deal.  Like my other bags aren't?  I'm supposed to buy you and act like my shit don't stink?  Well, news flash, bag... if I were to actually carry you around, my ass would be kicked so fast it wouldn't know what hit it.  Anyone who buys you is going to have their ass kicked... and therefore is an idiot. So what the hell is your point?  You're just being a dick.  Nobody likes a dick, bag.

Look, I'm just trying to be real with you.  This holier-than-thou shit you have going on is not cool.  You are not going to get anyone on your side that way.  If anything, your attitude makes me want to feed styrofoam to endangered species just to spite you.  You're a bag... you don't have to be a DOUCHEbag.  Seriously.

Can we just establish something, here?  Basically, you are just another piece of bullshit made in China, so I don't know where you get off preaching like you're some kind of fucking messiah.  You're a fucking bag.  PEOPLE ALREADY HAVE BAGS, ASSHOLE.  So where do you get off?  What is up with your self-righteous shit?  You know what... fine... you're saving the planet.  Let's see what you do when push comes to shove, bag.  My guess?  Jack.  You aren't going to do Jack.  Why?  Because you're a fucking bag. What are you gonna do?  TOTE away the problem?  get real.

Yeah, that's right.  I said it.  Now shut the fuck up and knock off the attitude.

How to look good on the internet: part one in an ongoing series! Photoshop! Photoshop! Photoshop!

 

 Okay, internet, remember how I told you how I wanted to be real with you?  Well, it was a half-truth.  I'm going to be just as fake as ever, but my resolve is simply to be completely transparent about my fakery.  We're co-conspirators in this whole illusory internet business!  And, really, nowhere is fakery more rampant than in the notorious userpic.  When you join a community, you pick a picture and then that picture is "you" as far as your "friends" or "followers" on said community are concerned. So the above is my Twitter avatar.  I was shooting for something accurately representational and "casual" which nonetheless conveyed some wry avuncularity.  Since the point of my twitter was to hone my one-liner skillz, I figured I should look comedian-ish.  Still, this pic is totally photoshopped and I am going to tell you how.

Why photoshop?  First of all, since most celebrity photos are photoshopped, I figured, "why should celebrities be the only ones who get to look unrealistically good in pictures?" Secondly, because I work in the arts and I've been around the internet block enough times to have a sense of "professionalism", I know that I want my online pics to look a step above "taken with my own outstretched arm in the bathroom mirror." The irony, however, is that this picture WAS taken with my own outstretched arm in the bathroom mirror.  But I felt like it had to at least LOOK sort of like a real headshot.  So here is what the picture started as:

 

So, rather than have you search out all the differences like some game in Highlights magazine, I'm just gonna run them down for you:

1. First and foremost was just to adjust the color/brightness to get rid of that yellowness that says "I took this pic in shitty incandescent light."

2. Second step was jacking up the redness of my hair and cleaning up those stray strands to make it look neater. Not only does this look punchier, but it's been my observation that nerds tend to have a thing for redheads, so it couldn't hurt to blatantly pander to my demographic in this particular way. 

3.  Next, was getting rid of those telltale signs of age.  Lose the eye wrinkles and the line at the corner of my mouth. Cool kids on the internet can't look old! Aging is for losers (unless you're trying to cultivate an persona of "wisdom" and "experience"... but still, that shit only works for dudes. Let's call a spade a spade.)

4. Okay, so then that left shoulder/arm?  The one that is obviously holding the camera?  How 'bout if I just push that down a little so it looks like this picture might have conceivably been taken by a "photographer" and not by me. 

5.  And now, my masterstroke!  I read somewhere that dilated pupils were a subconscious signifier of sexual arousal, so I MADE MY PUPILS BIG.  Oh, sure, I could have just put a pic of myself with blow-job lips and cleavage hanging out, but that shit's for amateurs.  If I am going to make my pic look "sexier," I'm going to do it like a fucking ninja.  BECAUSE I AM A FUCKING NINJA! 

So then I shrink my pic down to twitter avatar size and notice something amiss... my eyes actually look TOO large.  So then, irony of ironies, I photoshopped my eyes a teensy bit smaller so they wouldn't look photoshopped.

   

 Basically, reader, I want you to be in the loop.  The internet is full of chicanery and I'm exposing my own chicanery in hopes of illustrating the prevalence of chicanery. It's not 1998 anymore, so none of us needs to fall for this tomfoolery.  

A.V. Phibes' top ten albums of the decade (plus ten more)

So, if anyone is qualified to give a "top ten albums of the decade," it is probably not me.  I have no pretense of knowing jack about music, but I DO listen to a lot of it!  Now, I'm not saying that these are the BEST albums of the decade, but they're the ones I probably listened to the most (the WHOLE album... not just the two best singles or whatever. Singles are a whole other story.)  

Now, while I wouldn't assume that anyone would give a rats ass what albums I listened to the most, back when I was making mix CDs, some crazy kids were actually into them, so maybe... just maybe... you suckers want to know. If you don't, well, at least I can use this for my own future reference.

Now I can't really rank these into "favorites" because favorite-ness tends to wax and wane and appear and disappear on the waves of time and mood, so I'm just gonna organize them chronologically...

How to transport a pizza on an airplane: in which we take a pizza from New York to Mexico City

The trouble is, these are the sort of challenges that me and Richard love.  So when we were planning to visit a friend in Mexico City and we asked if he wanted us to bring him anything from New York and his response was "I'd say a pizza, but I know you probably can't do that,"  well, we had to rise to the challenge...

I'm getting back into life, but more importantly: Andrew W.K. is a creative force to be reckoned with.

 

What happens when someone, for no reason and without warning, just FREEZES and doesn't respond for 20 minutes?  That's when the fun begins.  That's when entertainment becomes an unpredictable, interactive, and memorable experience.  I'll get to that in a minute...

So it started earlier in the month when I decided that I was going to spend an entire week celebrating my birthday. I scheduled a week of things to do and events to attend: Talk! Rock! Comedy! Parties! Foods! Drinks! BFFs!  

It seemed apropos, then, that Andrew W.K. the guru saint of the philosophy of partying, should somehow be paid tribute to.  Turns out he was going to be part of a panel discussion at the Pomp & Circumstance Post-Apocalyptic survival party with Author Tony O'Neill and comedian Matt McCarthy. That sounded pretty interesting, so I made plans with a friend to go.

The day of the event, however, my friend had to work late, so I was basically confronted with the choice:  Go alone or not go at all.  The thing is, I pretty much never go to events alone.  It makes me anxious and uncomfortable.  Since seeing his CMJ lecture, however, I'd been inspired to approach life with a more WWAWKD? attitude and what that meant in this situation is that I had to not be a fucking wimp.  The very fact that the situation made me anxious and uncomfortable meant that I ought to do it.

So I went to the event alone and I was feeling kind of awkward, so then I thought "maybe I should just go start talking to people."  Again, this is something that makes me anxious and uncomfortable, so I made myself do it and talked to a bunch of people, even, yes, I talked to Andrew W.K... in for a penny, in for a pound, right?  As with many anxieties, I found that it was not really scary at all. It actually doesn't even make much sense since I'm pretty much the hostess with the mostess when I'm in my own home or general comfort zone.  

So the panel discussion starts and I'm in a good mood because I wasn't a fucking wimp and I was being a boisterous audience member because there's nothing worse for a person onstage than to have a reticent and unresponsive audience, and hip, artsy Brooklyn crowds can often be too much on the "I'm too cool to show enthusiasm for anything" side.  It turned out that Matt McCarthy couldn't make it to be on the panel [and, as an aside, see Matt McCarthy if you have a chance, he's a hoot.  Also, yes, I know he kinda looks like my boyfriend.]  So there was an empty chair and about halfway through the panel, since I had just been shamelessly begging the emcee, Lianne Stokes, for a can of Miller Lite, I was invited to take the empty chair and join the panel.

 Now what's kind of ridiculous at this point is that I think it's perfectly reasonable for me to be on the panel since it's not like I've never been on a panel or otherwise in front of a microphone speaking to the youth of america, but since nobody knows who the fuck I am, I'm basically just some drunk chick from the audience. Whatever...I'll be the best drunk chick from the audience I can be!

Okay, now I'll finally circle back around to the thing I was talking about in the first paragraph:  So at a certain point in the discussion, Andrew W.K. just freezes. He's sitting stock still and staring and not responding to anyone. This, here, is why I tell people that if you only know Andrew W.K. as the "party hard" guy, you're missing out on a cornucopia of treats.  He's actually morphed into a delightfully provocative and compelling figure. He's basically become this bundle of paradoxes who is constantly subverting expectation and even his own public image. Asking a random sample of Andrew W.K. fans to describe him is like the Blind Men describing the Elephant.  Some people have even conceived crackpot theories that he's not a real person.  He can seem, at different times, like a rock star, a philosopher, a clown, the big brother you wish you had, a geek, a virtuoso, a madman... In short, you are never 100% sure what you're going to get from him, so it's always interesting and fun to see where things are going to go and how, as a spectator, you are going to be engaged or made to feel and react. In a sense, his all-white "costume" has become a metaphorical blank screen on which people are invited to project.

And, really, this is why I like conceptual art in general: because the art becomes this unpredictable synergy between the artist and the audience, with both sides coming together to create the whole...but back to the panel and the frozen Andrew W.K: So the first reaction is confusion. We don't get it at first. Nobody knows what's going on. Do we try to snap him out of it? Do we play along? Do we ignore it?  The situation is amusingly disorienting.  When the panel finished and broke up, he continued to sit there frozen. He's still there? How long is he going to do this?

At a certain point, with the few people remaining there by the stage, things went in another interesting direction: If he's going to behave like an inanimate object, we can treat him like an inanimate object. We all posed for pictures with him.  One person pretended to drink from his glass. Another commented "he smells nice."  

 

 

 

Eventually I wandered off to get another drink and talk to more people.  At a certain point I glanced back and he wasn't there anymore.  Still, I really enjoyed the whole thing, as did my friends when I told them about it later. I think that what Andrew W.K. started back in the early 00's with his music has now become a more multi-faceted approach to provoking emotions and creating experiences... and this is why I urge people to take note of Andrew W.K. and go see him in whatever capacity you can if you have a chance!

Also, I would encourage people to not be a fucking wimp, because if you aren't, you just might have an awesome night and meet lots of interesting people.

From the vault: The "wacky drunken roommate" comics.

So some people still bring up these comics, and since I realize I haven't had them online in ages, I figured I'd repost them here.  The roommate in question is still a friend and still the world's most delightful person.