Description:

Exploring the devaluation of what we think is valuable to us. How everything is infinite, except the things that aren't.

​

A. W. R.

Against West Records wasn't so much a record label as it was my teenage ideals to express my concerns. 
It was a statement, a name, I put on CD's I made for friends. Whether was complete albums, extended versions thereof (with EPs, B-sides, bootlegs, what have you) or compilations or mix tapes. 
I felt it summed up my values at the time. I did not do any of that to infringe on copyrights - it was a perfectly legal at the time - there was no commercial intent. 

 

In a similar manner, I had repurposed an older pair of trousers into a shoulder bag. Trust me - having pants pockets in a bag is, well, like a having a second pair pockets for your things.
Obviously that was a time before you need to carry at least 1 cell phone with you - if anything it was optional. 
 

Having spare room in your pants for a discman, or later MP3 player, was already a luxury at the time. Besides, having pockets big enough to carry a large-than-cd-sized object, was also something
that clashed with my fashion sense. Or lack thereof. 

My favourite part of the bag however was the stitching on it: I am a racist - I hate the human race. 
I don't recall anyone noticing it. I don't think people cared much at the time. I don't think much has changed. 

Neither have I. Whilst I stopped making such CD's a long time ago - no one has the equipment to play those anymore. Laptops and tablets don't. My computers don't - my teenage nonsense prevailed. 
Evolved. Disintegrated. Survived. 

Whilst I have lived a comfortable life, for the most part anyways, with lots of things and stuff. To this day. 
The values I "spoke out against" in my late teens, early twens, are still present. 

 

Consumerism is bigger than ever. Leave people locked at home - they will fill it with more things. Things they had never needed, and probably still don't. But still do. 
More time at home, meant more stuff to distract oneself. In the first half of this year I only heard 1 person say "nah, I don't want to burden the postal services with additional parcels". 
Make no mistake - that person wasn't me. It wasn't even anyone I know. I am talking of hearsay, of course. Also, I'm not.

 

It's not the first rule of Fight Club. It's not any rule of it - as far as I know. But it's a line that I am pretty sure came early on in the movie:
The things you own end up owning you (or something to that extent).

Everyone you ask knows the first 2 rules of Fight Club - many of them never read between the lines. Many of them never read. 
There may be even some that can't read - others took that away from them. If they don't have a thing to have taken away from them - take what's left. 

Last I checked, it wasn't against Fight Club's rules to talk about what you value in life. There are other reasons why most of us don't do that. 
One of the big ones: we simply don't know. 

We struggle to make time for that. For anything. Not the talking about values - we have all the time in the world for that - and technology has given us ample means for that.
By giving us the toys, it took away, or at least keeps chipping away, our only tool: the clock. 

There's limited time for all of us. If you don't know who you are, ask someone else "who am I supposed to be". 

If you have no one to ask that, there are plenty of ready-made options available. For sale. For profit, probably. For your benefit, that's what they say. 
Meaning of language is constantly changing. Literally means the opposite. 

Self-help is the same. 

Pay for someone's guide to your happiness - that way you won't have to deal with it. Time is money. Not the other way around. Not for you anyways. 
Both time and money are both available to us - in increasingly limited quantities - for most of us. 
And even though one is finite, and the other endless. Our comprehension of how precious that is, the time; we value money more. 
 

Time can't buy us shit - money can. Time will tell, money talks. We prefer the quicker option. 

Life & death are equals now - in both instances we prefer the quicker option. 

Long after my bag fell apart, am I still a racist?
I don't think I ever was.

At various times, I have been described as anti-social, or a variation there of. For lack of a better word, to this day, I prefer the term misanthropic. 
It sounds better, more mysterious, maybe - but there's a leap to 'hatred' I never quite understood. Maybe it's time to find a better term.

It's a shame, though, I have neither need nor time for such a search.

Instead I'll let them to it, let them pay someone else to do it. I am sure that's going to work out fine. It always does. It's how it works. 

Good to know: the system works. Mostly people. It's what we do. 

It's what we're taught to do. It's time we learnt. 

The only problem remains, is 'who pays for the bill'.

Fucked if we had time to figure that out...

​

PS: this is not a review of the book Fight Club, nor the movie based on it. This is just another gameplay trailer.