So I came home late tonight after rambling around to various scenes and seeing what's up. Swingers is on Jeremy's cable, and seeing Jon Favreau skulking about in a wife-beater gives me some cause for reflection. I'm thinking a lot lately about how culture reverberates. It's something of a professional obsession, being that we're attempting to manufacture enough of a shudder in New York and California that we can tap and modulate the rattle, transmit it through music and websites into the heartland.

So knowing everything, coming back here now and seeing this film on the flicker box, it makes me think about how the whole picture gets formed, how in independent film poking fun at a scene that was mostly over in Los Angeles could be so impactful on my mind as a kid about to graduate high school in Oregon; enough to put me over top to creating fake IDs and started throwing cocktail parties. And though that's no longer who I am, it is an important element of where I come from, and now I'm in the mix trying to shove the whole mother-humping Leviathan in my own way. Freaky.

Shudder shudder pingback. Every little thing counts when you're trying to start an epidemic. Throughlines are important though; quality will still have it's fucking day...