Neon Codex

Where digital meets classical.

Filtering by Tag: change

—By a Thousand Cuts

—I fell off the map somewhere back in October, judging by the dates on my most recent blog posts. I realize now this was right before my grandmother’s funeral, which I unexpectedly flew to Buffalo for after she spent a weekend in the hospital, intubated and comatose, finally passing away in the night before my mother was able to reach the hospital, taking a Red Eye flight up from Dallas.

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July in Retrospect: Car Fires, Utopian Visions, and the Fourth

There's this quote at the beginning of The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin, where it gets its title. It essentially states, and I'm paraphrasing, that in Genesis the rainbow was a sign sent from God, a solemn promise, that He would never flood the earth again. That next time, He would simply set it on fire. Pardon my sacrilege, but that always struck me as kind of a fucked up trade-off.

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The Temptation of Saint Anthony

His story becomes a living human parable, populated by impossible creatures and events, such as the ones I've described, illustrating a grander psychological reality. And the idea passes down through history, transforming naturally with the passage of each era and in the translation through each unique artistic voice. The Temptation of Saint Anthony has been immortalized for the past six-hundred years by master painters from every generation, stretching all the way from Bosch to his twentieth century descendants in Dalí, Carrington, and Ernst. Even the Renaissance Master Michelangelo's first painting, when he was just 13 years of age, was a rendition of Schongauer's copper engraving of Saint Anthony.  And it's influence of course hasn't been isolated to the world of painting, Gustave Flaubert alone spent the years of his life from the ages of 24 to 53, just 4 years short of his death, drafting and redrafting his novel based on the story. He considered The Temptation of Saint Antony his greatest achievement and, quite literally, his life's work. 

And it's in these transformations and mutations down through time that I think the real magic lies; the true fulfillment of Saint Anthony's lifelong journey, his walk across the delerious desert landscape which stretches now endlessly, along with his ultimate triumph, through the infinitude of human expression.

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System-Shock/Fragmentation

The broken people, the fragmented people. Subjected through information and technology to thousands of contradicting ideas and narratives, no main thread of consensus, no guiding principle or system of values. So many options and yet so few, left crippled in indecision by information and stimulation overload. Hung out on a limb by previous generations whose incentives were things; economic stability, financial comfort, jobs, college. Things which are in shorter and shorter supply, and are of less apparent intrinsic value. Everything is chaos now, fact is fiction, fiction is fact, the overwhelming urge is toward peace and understanding but what's manifesting in the world is destruction and ignorance. More and more people are suffering from depression, anxiety, and mental illness, as they struggle to articulate themselves socially, intellectually, and emotionally in an increasingly confusing and disorientating environment. I've decided I'll try and do something to address this. This terminally paralyzed and frantic generation, of which I am very much apart. The aspiring artists and entrepreneurs who've spent the first quarters and thirds of their lives reading book after book about their craft and trade, trying to learn how to live through the buffers of instruction manuals, without having taken a single step. The children of online self-help and routine inspirationEcho and Narcissus made one.

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Love in the Time of Kali-Yuga

My input is kind of all over the place tonight, I bought a copy of the Beatles film Help! today at work and now I'm listening to Kamasi Washington on Spotify, fucking finally, and I'm delighted to find that he is everything I've been told he is, an emerging vanguard of modern Jazz. Possibly the last one, it's really hard to say, he's either going to lead a brilliant resurgence of the genre or he'll be the dignified caretaker of its final days--a last outburst of urgent noise erupting from his sax as a hot, stifling death-rattle. Part of me believes that there's just too much strength in this man's ability and style, too much passion, for the genre to simply wither on the vine as long as he's around, but tastes have moved on by and large. It seems like most of my favorite musicians are flying low on the radar, while bigger, markedly simpler, acts dominate radio-play and larger territories in the collective consciousness wired into internet, TV, and magazines. They have the modern attention span for the moment, however so fleeting. But then again, who the listens to radio anymore anyway? 

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Los Angeles in Abstract

Who could one be, as he or she slips through the eye of this needle? Alive one moment, not the next, bounding between sleeping and waking worlds, dreams and reality, in confused instants. Blurring the two together, indistinct of time or place. A city of angels dancing on the head of a pin...

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