Dead blog.

Hey, this blog is pretty much dead.  So, go over here: hardworlder.blogspot.com where I imported most of my posts, and will continue putting shit up there about Korea and junk, for the 2 or 3 people that might be interested in that kind of thing.  What happened here?  I don't know.  People got busy lives, except for me, obviously.  Hardworlders 4 Life!  Love everyone that posted, though.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor

I went and saw them play last night in Pomona,CA at the Fox Theater. I took a video of some of their 2hr 15min set.
Enjoy!

Robedoor

This is one of my favorite bands in LA right now. Robedoor.

I Smell a Mean Struggle

It is telling, the great divide between our fondest hopes and our own grueling reality. The chasm is always there, often more actual than...wait. Pretty girl. Uhhhh. Alright. Get it together, Wirtala! We have things to write here. But man. You guys should really see this one. I am rightly beguiled. But hey. Logical consequence? Shit. My nuts are all knocked out. Recent blow. A true connection. So. This other reality, this gulf that stands between Us and our Great Hope. It is there, my friends. No matter what we do, no matter what we scheme, we will never close the distance. This is painfully illustrated by last night proceedings. I tried to will myself into the Love of an eighteen year old girl and woke up next to a thirty-four year old man. Try as I might, I can cannot defeat the Ultimate Logic.

Such is life? Well sure.But hold on. Is this, indeed, life? This particular girl has been coming around for a while now, only when I am dead drunk and completely incapable of even very simple tasks and lo, I repeat the same idiot jokes and go through My fascination of Her and once more I ask her name and she says I know it and the whole thing just deteriorates and I finally loose my long-since-slipping hold on reality and hey, the Gulf is right there: expanding, burping, taunting and yawningly indifferent and I forget who I am and decide that why not? let's get into all of this mystery and into the chasm I dive! and ok, I'll see You on the other side. This little devil appears to me, in a fever like some kind Elf-Witch only in my most base, my most morally deprived states of consciousness. It is like a deep, very convoluted dream. It is fucking fucked up. She is my Black Swan. And I absolutely want her.

Well. good luck! Jesus. But we all know those morals are long gone, eh? I am not here to pull the wool over the Hardworldom's collective oculars. I am here, in fact, to spread the Gospel. And like any True Messenger, I am treading a precarious line. It seems that I am continually undermining my fondest hopes and my college-best efforts. But this is the the great chess game, and my intuition seems to believe it has the key to what's up and what is Wise. And It will summarily drag me by the throat through the River Styxx. my bloated body in its maw and pouring my very own bile down my own blistered throat and will surely set the buzzards all a'circle overhead, possesed by their mindless flesh-lust as IT achieves it's own Satanic Bidding. Intuition. We all obey some master they say.

Hey-ho! If anybody pays heed to all this, in the year, say, 2042, I would like a diorama crafted in the Museum of Natural History, right here in New York, depicting all of this. Me, nay, perhaps my very own stuffed corpse, glass eyes and all, clutching a half empty bottle of whiskey, wild-eyed, haphazard, an expression of disbelief bordering on some kind of mindless maniacal rage, in a stance suggesting some sort of misguided vigor, friend in the corner, shoulders shrugging, their expression somewhere between pity, futility, and utter horror of what's to come. A woman, just staring at me, thinking, "well, what?" all-of-it against a backdrop of the Magical Cosmos- shooting stars, meteoroids, the rings of Saturn- all of it, and some kind of ethereal celestial music stylings befitting of The Eternal Massacre Of The Gods, which, by the way, will be the title of this whole future motherfucking rendition of the Great Struggle. Is this too much to ask?

Very probably. However. The children of Today are the old people of Tomorrow. I'd like to think that our Children's Children will want to know this kind of stuff. I am not an absolute nihilist here. I do have a heart. I, too want to help our human race. If, indeed, they can reap the bitter wisdom that I have to give. Trust me, Future, I am here to help. Right along with all those dinosaur skeletons and space evidence at your discretion at that folky little museum. That incredible masoleum. The degenerate 4th dimension here, at your service. But shit, yo. We are here to ruin the future, here in 2011.Believe it. Fuck. The very twisted stylings of David S. Wirtala, circa 2011. Cool. Now.Let us kill him.

Here to help. So yeah, I am still here, all cylinders and remaining palpitations, hammering and pounding with questionable results and even more doubtful outcomes in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Fashionable place that it is. I am knee deep in this band. And we are going to lunge soon. Whack! Yeah. Not much more to say until the ship sails I guess. But our name is Control. Heavy, right?

Like I said, last night was a rough one, the absolute zenith of all my desire confronting me in my lowest state like that, but I am resolute in my task and am not so easily dissuaded from my own denial. Sorry, Lord. It's gonna take more than that. If I just back up a few more paces, if I can juuuuust manage to intuit the perfect angle I think I may just bridge it all. That little dude in Pitfall managed ok. Though he did get consumed by crocodiles on more than one occasion. But such is the price of the playing the game, eh?

Yimmering and yammering here. And absolutely inconsiderate. We have all of this fresh blood in the mix and I have not poured a single beverage.This is intolerable. I apologize. Not my style. Christ. Look at you guys. You are withering right in front of me. I've turned a blind eye to your thirst in the pursuit of my own truncated eloquence. But no more. Alright. George, welcome! You are a noble man, and a fine addition to our tribe.It has been too long, has it not? Glad to have you here. I am searching the bar and...well, I think gin is in order. Gin and grapefruit juice. I'm putting a little triple-sec in as well, I'm just not exactly sure why. This is your first Hardworld cocktail, after-all. A very, very special occasion! This is why it is thirty-two ounces. Jacob, you are abroad, so I am giving you a taste of Bitter Freedom: a seven and seven. Also thirty-two ounces. That converts to some unknowable quantity in your surroundings. How is all that going, anyway? Shanghai? I admit to a bit of envy. What? Oh, it's cool enough. But the idea of Asia is sounding pretty enticing these days. To me, the Big Money and probably even God himself. You are, de facto, in the Current Fashion. Anyway. On with the drinks! Jeff, I have a bottle of champagne, well chilled, expressly for you. It is refreshing. It is divine. What? Oh, you're totally welcome. Anytime! This is a time for such things. Convivial offerings. Overflowing cup and what-not. We are Hardworlders, after-all. Way more secretive than the llluminati. Boring! Passe, all of that. Genuine deep mystery, right here. Fit for proper secrets, OUR lot. Ok. Joel. I have not forgotten about you. I saved the best. Believe it. So here you are! Hold on a second, this has to be delivered. Alrighty! Three bottles of Grey Goose delivered to your table by a beautiful Russian femme! She will never let your glass get even remotely half-empty. If she does, then let me know. Trust me, she understands the repercussions of such a failure.

Alright. Pardon me while I take a whiff of this stuff. I really should clean house. These whipped cream bottles are close to avalanching.

So, the events of the day. Egypt is revolutionizing, What? Oh, it's right here. Light on up. Sure, I'll take a hit. Wait. Your enthusiasm is infectious. What? Sure, it's cool but now what? Do they democratize, do they elect? It's all fun when in revolt but now that the deed is done where do they go from here? Man. Getting a little confounded here. But that's cool.

And we are all kind of like plants, right? Wait. Planets right? Shit. we're like both. Hold on. (exhales) Oh yeah. I totally feel it. I'm one with both. plants, planets, Earth, Cosmos, God, 3-D movies, ramen noodles, cheese, urinating in public, facebook, all of it.

But back to this girl. Maybe she is just some sort of brain-stem projection of mine. Maybe she just exists in my own grotesque fantasy. A Creature from my Black Lagoon. Wirtala and his Black Swan. It is a very strange place, this wellspring. Wouldn't drink from it! . But this fantasy projection.. is not beyond doubt. I have never laid eyes on her with my real mind. She could even be MORE real than real, even. Fucking Platonic. The never changing Real Shit, yo. Hell, even a fucking underlying symbol, as Monsieur Beautrilland would have it. But hey! Shit. Alright. Hardworlders, I can feel the gears clunking and the jake-brake jamming the Universe into the appropriate Logical Gear and, yes, I am still here in Brooklyln and even am, in fact, a little frightened by the whole motherfucker. Where's it going to end?

Where indeed?

Who knows? Since I'm dropping names here, I'll tell you who knows: Slavov Zizek. But I have no recourse to that Slovenian super-trust fund of absolute knowledge. Man. That motherfucker. . He will give me no advice, he will not be my own private Merlin. Trust me, I have made advance after advance after advance. And that totally blows, 'cause now is the time for a man like that in a capacity like that for a a dude like me who just happens to be me. If he could just be swayed to tend to me, perhaps I could begin to make cogent, well thought-out decisions. Why won't Zizek agree to be my handler?

That son of a bitch. Anyway. Enough of all these digressions! Your time is valuable. and I am here getting too drunk too early here on this Sunday here in fashionable Williamsburg, Brooklyn. And Wright just got here along with Jeremy, my post-fantasy cuddle buddy. And hey, guess what? We're gonna eat some tacos. Do not fret, do not wring your hands, I'll order you guys a spread worthy of your great reputation. You will see and understand how the Real Gods dine. Believe it.

Shit. Strangely, I went to the Real Mexico. I laid in the sun. I tasted tacos beyond my reckoning. It was borderline trans-dimenional...A taco fantasy of sorts. Unicorns. And lo, a reckoning did go down. These things do not happen in a vacuum. Shit reverberates. Even in sunny Mexico, it is, indeed, a Hardworld.

One may even venture to say, especially in Mexico. But fuck, pontificating just gets me stuck in strange spots. My abilities are already hitting The Wall. And I am not an elegant creature. My blood is already carelessly imprinted nigh on just about fucking everything. There is , truly, a bad Moon risin'.

And this Hardworld has got me by the balls, guys. Jesus! I am just blindsided and shit I'm all-aghast and brainlessly righting myself against my own self. A blitzkrieg cauldron of contrary idiocy! A venerable hail of bullets cloaked in various impurities. The world may be against me, but I am it's staunchest ally. But I digress. Understand, I guess. I am using this fucker as a certain sort of therapy.

And it all gets ever so much more strange, and ever so much more twisted. Jesus! The Falcon has made the kill shot, and the flames are intruding from all directions. Me, I'm just hanging, enjoying this moment and this fine view. But the Emperor is here too, and man, he is Lame Company. No matter. Part of the Bargain. So hey, let's relax and make a home here. A throw-pillow here, a Monet there. The coziest little imminently exploding fully-operational battle station in the Universe. Fuck it, why not? I have a round of drinks ready. Let us celebrate. Cheers!

Latin Holiday

Last night I came home to my girlfriend and my pal Seth,who works at Freakbeat Records, setting up to do a podcast. I helped them set up the mic and turntable situation and sat on my couch and listened to Nerds talk about records. Enjoy.

George

Hello From Los Angeles!

A HIKE WITH GEORGE from Brian Outland on Vimeo.

George Jensen here ready to start blogging for the Hardworlders. I am gonna start out with a video of me on my favorite hike. Enjoy!

Travel Time

Sitting here with a Korean face mask covering my face. Gots to keep my face moisturizer on. Heading out of here come February 1st. So it looks like I'll be packing up my shite and heading out of Gangsterfornia. Who knows when I'll return. Come February 2nd I'll be in Shottingham, UK, to stay with Frazer the Amazer, who lives in Robin Hood's old stomping grounds. We'll be looting from the rich and giving to the poor, headbutting our way through the UK. I'm pretty stoked cuz I've never been to the UK in my life. Don't care too much for London. You've seen one major city, you've seen them all. Definitely on the agenda will be some cider and some pub action and some more cider. Cricket and tea time should be good as well.

Then it's off to Shanghai via Istanbul. Yup, going to stop in Istanbul on the way out. Although it's only in the airport, should be cool just to say "hey man, I was in Turkey." I'm headed out to Shanghai to teach at SISU. Hopefully if all goes as planned, I'll be 30 grand deeper in the hole and working on an MA in international Relations at the same time. Loads of work and play in the works. Stay tuned for pics and other fun shits and giggles. The pay will be crap, but maybe I'll get hitched. Who knows? Wish me luck, because my last attempt at China was a fucking disaster.

Here To Win The Game.

If, as they say, we are all God's Children, then I have a very, very disappointed Parent way up there, way up high in the sky. What He must think, sitting there on high, watching His shit-faced hybrid jackal/human/junebug/village idiot creation unfurl and lunge and fall and generally malfunction right in the face of His Divine Wisdom. I'm sure he's seen worse, but man, believe it, it's still gotta hurt. It ain't easy being the Father. I suspect so, anyway.

It seems that I am destined to meet up with you guys under these circumstances.

Staying in the pocket this time. Even, deliberate pacing and descriptions are gonna rue the day. No more of this maniac hacking and unfiltered mental onrush. Content. Discipine! Well, one can dream, eh? My muse is not of that nature, evidently. And my Muse is not pretty: Sharp teeth. Vicious Stench. Steel claws. She is 100% vile, very obnoxious and will one day lord of my Dead Body. What a chronic, violent beast! But, you know, we gotta take what we are given. Thus it is said, and ever thus shall it be.

And if you think The Muse is weird, just imagine The Choir. What a grotesque gallery of Knuckleheads there!

Righto! I am back in New York after heading down to Texas to bring in the Holidays. Characteristic of my style, it was celebratory. I was in the strongest company. It is always cool to Dentonize. Dallas depresses the dog-shit out of me, but there was good people to see in that place too. But here I am. Again. This metropolis.

But nobody here is a stranger to The Metropolis, eh? Tokyo. Seoul. LA. We tend to opt for the fast lane, us Hardworlders. A sophisticated bunch dedicated to High Culture. There's probably a french phrase that would sound and look way cool for that.

Hack, wail, wheeze, moan. Hurray!

And man oh man. Why is it that I approach this business everytime with a heart chock-full of regret? A night bourne of poor choices and marred and maimed by my shit instincts? An awful mourning? It is a sad state of affairs when you are your worst enemy. But lo, Hardworlders, 'tis all mine. So might as well embrace it. All this toppling, all this instability. I had cooler shit in my head for all this, by the way. Then, whammo! Arizona congresswoman down! Then breakfast. The world is moving fast. And I am all drunk in the mix.

And there's the rub: it is a very, very twisted feeling. This wake in the Fierce quest for Absolution. The deep Wellspring, the terrible quilt of guilt and shame. Evidently, they are, both of 'em, intertangled in the ol' noggin. Who would've thought? But Man. There is a hideous purity in this wake Of The Storm. The beach is swept away. You can hear the birds, the lizards, and the apes. Nature is back, motherfucker! And though the shame and sense of self is sulking and the ego is lying all maimed and raped in the hospital ward, the Awareness of everything Eternal is elevated. It's as if you are privy to a preview of the world without you.

Or, it's like, what else can I do to myself? I did that? And I'm still here? Somehow?

But let us not tempt fate, Hardworlders! Never a good idea, that. On a sunny day many moons past, Joel and I did just that, and I found myself sleeping on a roll of toilet paper in a very, very cold cell in Grandbury, Texas. But, in all candor, I do not regret that day. There is something to be said for driving at top speed down I-35, windows down, the stereo cranked to a very appropriate volume, good laughs, good company, and an open beer between your legs. In hindsight, it all gets justified. Enough distance and the screaming...just...fades away.

Yes, I manufactured as much comfort as could be mustered. The drunk tank is never a fun place, but I tried to settle in and make a home out of it. Nonetheless. I really, really, do not like the idea of incarceration. So I gotta ride this line. Once again. It's like my favorite soul animal. the Buffalo. Buffalo meets a ballerina. The elegant Ballerafallo! The Blind Charge segueing into a brutal pirouette. Right there on the precipice. All of it in a dreadful lateral plunge soaked in maniacal alcoholism. A delicious marinade for The Fool Endeavor. Hoofs kicking up a billowing cloud. In this case, a bloody, bilious cloud of Eloquence.

Jesus. This is all getting too cerebral, eh? Maybe even boring. This is also something that I do not want. Not for you guys, anyway. I give myself free license to lame out on the rest of IT, but never ever ever on the shining stars in the Hard Firmanent. Alright. Easing down. Time for drinks. Jacob, welcome to our fine forum. What are you thirsty for? I have no soju, are you cool with whiskey? Maybe a beer. Hell, got 'em both coming your way. Heeeeeeeeeeere you go. Enjoy. Daug, I have prepared you something that I'm sure will do the trick. An Irish Car-Bomb. Chug-a-lug good buddy! Graybill, well, you've probably had your fill of saki, so I opted for something pure and brutal. Here, drink this entire bottle of Everclear. That's it. Don't give me that look. Finish it. Great! What? Yeah I know, they were a really terrible band. Just let me just snort this and I'm going to get down and serious here with this 151. This is, after-all, a serious night. We are deep into the Business. What shall we settle first? North Korea? Is that all empty rhetoric and public posturing or is there real validity in the threat? What about this Arizona congress-lady? Jesus. We live in divided times. I guess they all are, but still...

Alright, on to lighter fare. Have any of you seen Black Swan? My good Disappointed Deity, you gotta. It is fucking incredible. It's like hanging onto an electric fence for two hours. Except it's kind of exquisite, the pain. True Grit was great, but Black Swan will still be around in ten years. Aronofsky. Goddamn. Portman. Good double backflip in slow motion goddamn. What was that? No, I have not seen Tron. I was going to, but now...kind of scared. I may just cruise around on the idea I have of Tron. I think it may be better that way.

Alright. Where was I? One pretty girl winks at you in the street, and The Universe just melts down into dust and rust. Everything just goes fuck-all entropic. The brain instantly goes French, submits to the menace of the Ego and His Genitals. Bones in the ol' clockwork. Anyway. Not your concern. Gotta make an effort here. This a Hardworlders entry, goddammit! Nothing less than the finest locutions will do. How do you live, Joel? This is the regular state of affairs for you. How do you manage to get anything done?

There are other reasons behind this perpetual state. This self-inflicted scorching. I guess that's what this whole shebang is all about. Getting into the mind. Dark rumblings. A very delicate process. Not about the comings and goings of the day, etc. What is there really to say about that? Wake. Masturbate. Eat. Walk around. Discombobulation. Events. Routine. Physical waste. Applied effort, to something. Eat. Strong drink. Deluded optimism. Dissolution. Lights out. Repeat. Over and over. Phoenix from the ashes. This shit happens everywhere. Until it doesn't anymore.

And that's when the real shit goes down. Or not. Who knows? If they yank that mystery out of our lives then man, oh man, are we Fucked.

Categorically.

So, until then, might as well dip into all this murk and all this mire that is the briars and the Great Thicket of the consciousness. It is a painful saga, absolutely, but the only real post-modern choice. When you're situated at the top of the Grand Pyramid, the weirdo masonic Cosmic Eye comes to rest squarely on You. Hm. Hold on. Wait a second- I don't own a Lexus, I sleep on a couch and I am definitively unemployed...perhaps I'm being a bit hasty on the pyramid bit. Maybe I've got a few stairs to stagger up still.

And that's what we call Living the Dream here in this Hardworld.

Struggle. Grapple. Burp. Excrete. Repeat.

Happy New Year!

Thanks for the invite.

So now I'm a hardworlder. I'm honored. Thank you. I'm not in Korea though, but I did make it into Koreatown in LA today for some Galbitang, given account of how cold it has been recently, I never felt a stronger urge to eat some galbitang. Then I went to a Korean Sauna. Now here in Ktown LA, there is an abundance of Korean Saunas. I must have chosen the right one because when I went in, and I got the familiar "Oshosayo!" I instantly replied with "Anyonghaseyo." Then to stir up some shits and giggles, I whipped out my Korean drivers license from when I lived in Korea (I was supposed to return it to immigration upon departure from Korea) she actually scratched her head. So it's not that funny, but she did get some Korean out of me and for humoring her, I got 10 free guest passes. She called up someone on the phone and was like "yada yada weigukin chingu" something something. Then she gave me some "chingu cards," (e.g. guest passes). So I'll be sure to Kspa again in the near future. Thanks for adding me, uh, I don't have anything else of interest to say. If you want to watch some videos I made, feel free.

I like to make movies.

Be brutal.

Welcome to the new member

As the so far silent administrator of the Hardworld I'd like to take one of my few vocal moments to give a hearty welcome to the newest member of this carnal exploration of death, humanity and the outright satanistic practice of listening to metal music. Mr. Jacob!! Come on down sir and welcome to the pack. We're a bunch of lone wolves scattered about the dark woods of the real world, ripping at the flesh and fabric of time and existence, spilling the blood of the guilty and innocent alike, howling and eating the soft flesh of the forgiven. From your unique vantage point in the vast network of the universe we invite you to rip and tear through the minds of our limited numbers, snapping bones, drinking whisky and eating the children of your enemies. Along with the rest of the hardworlders I feel honored to have such a ruthless and fearful individual as yourself in our midst.