"Cash Glut Hints at Deeper Issues"

From the Tribune this morning: new Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke says there's a "global savings glut".

Which means? Which means that one of the things slowing growth (and I would argue it's not just economic but also emotional, creative and spiritual) is that there aren't enough things to invest in--to buy. The big five oil companies alone recorded $33 billion in earnings in the last 3 months. We're making money and sitting on it because we're afraid to move to the next level and invest in what we really want.

So what was the reason you weren't making that movie, that coffeeshop, that social club, that song? Cross money off the list.

My intention is that White Gold will touch off massive personal and corporate investment in the creation of a mature, fun, real 3 dimensional culture. Not because the folks with money are nice (this is big oil after all) but because they see green.

All we need is some artists strong enough to deal.

As long as people buy what they really want, the profit motive works. Call it the prophet motive. It's when they settle or buy scared that everything goes catywampus.

I've got my eye on an almost pink Ralph Lauren corduroy suit. I don't feel like I can afford it, but if I don't live my own mandates, who will.

Scared money don't make love, Money.

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WhiteG.com

The Last Are Now First

There's a lot of that sentiment around these days with the Sox having won the World Series. A number of columnists have asked, what will the South Side do with the chip on its shoulder now that it's not second class?

I'd ask the same thing of the artists out there. Now that even bad bands get plenty of airplay. Now that every painter shows in at least a coffee house and amateur knitters' creations are gracing the covers of albums and magazines alike.

How long are you going to hold on to your outsider, maligned, misunderstood pose? How long are you going to insist that it's the "man", the labels, big business, the Republicans, that's not delivering the life you want? When kids worldwide copy the bad moustache and 80s concert t-shirts you wore once as a joke. (You were joking weren't you?) How can you say no one's listening? How will you possibly maintain your victim status now? Green Day?

When will you just admit and make what you do want instead of railing against everything you don't want?

The world has changed so much under our very feet that we barely even realize what is going on. All we have to do it let the bullshit go and a world of joy and beauty is waiting to explode around us. Explode! Drop your fears. Do what you want. Get wicked. Do the math. But ignore money, your desire for stability, your sex drive, sobriety, and daily showers at your own peril.

I asked my friend Robert the other day if he was serious about charging $40 for a movie he's planning on making. He said yes. We broke down the numbers and if he sold 100,000 DVDs he'd still have to crawl to Hollywood for money to do his second one. Assuming he also wanted to live soomewhere besides the temporary shelter he's living in currently. And if he wanted to do it right. There are people circling the planet on planes because they're bored and no one will write the truth down (for any price!). If you do one thing, tell the fucking truth. Not the hipster truth (see where it got Kurt Cobain--and Cam'ron for that matter). Not the everything's fine mainstream truth (ditto Enron and G. W.--40% approval rating). Tell the fucking truth! The whole truth. That you're afraid AND an arrogant fuck. That you love babies and get blitzed out of your mind. That you want eveything and are afraid you're evil because of it. Just put it down.

Write what the fuck you want. What you really care about. God doens' t care. Don't you think he knows? That we all know? We not stupid you know. We know you woke up crying. And that you couldn't deal with that panhandler becasuse he was black and smelled. Put it down. That white people drive you crazy with their refusal to warm. With their inability to relax without beer or be happy without coffee.

That you want to fuck that woman you saw at the gym this morning but don't think you'd stay with her because of her butt. (I did too!) Put it down because that's the truth. And if that doesn't work, then nothing matters anyway. Because that's where we are and what we need more than anything is a place to start. Being present. Being human. And that that's progress. You can't get ahead of Jesus and if you try you're a liar anyway. Happy yogi. Always smiling healer. Tell the high school kids to stop throwing their pop cans on your sidewalk and see how it feels. It was driving you crazy anyway.

I'll start: You want the money. No reason to lie because you might not ever get it. But if you're an artist and you don't talk about money as much as you think about it (or fame for that matter, or sex, or god, or beauty or cleanliness), then what are you telling us? How are you informing us of the truth? If you're against--punk, counter-culture, whatever--it's a pose. And one that's been played for years anyway (and I was there). It's in fake museums now. And no one ever goes to see it. Teenagers are losinng teeth. Beating each other out of boredom.

A lot of books are $14.95 because that's what they're worth. We can tell what they're about from the cover. Same with most albums. And the kids care even less than us. They're not nostalgic for that great time when David Sedaris came to town and for a minute being liberal was cool. They don't care. They'll dismiss someone straight away. We're still trying to be nice like our hippy forefathers and mothers. Hipsters are hippies, you know. Punk rockers have beards now. That's all I have to say. Sorry guys. No vulnerability, no love. Failure to transcend. Abort, retry. Wash rinse, repeat.

Speaking of which.. On the White Gold front, things are looking lovely. The book's at the printer with $120 on the cover. Ka-POW!

The album's coming nicely. Got about 5 in the can and the computer fast enough to mix them. I also had to upgrade my music program. The one I was using before (Live) wasn't professional quality. So I got Logic. I'm not afraid of mistakes but I go ruthlessly for the absolute best in production values. This from a guy who just shot half a video he plans to sell for $160 a pop on a $100 cheapo DV camera.. (The second half made it to a $1500 one I put on my credit card and will sell when we're done. If I had any sense I'd charge a $3200 Panasonic DVX100a--maybe for my upcoming music video).

There's an interesting newsletter on the ultra-premium economy over at Trendwatching. I usually don't link to place with lower values but I respect your time enough to not have to copy and paste. They're stuck in the material, and a bit guiltily at that, but at least they accurately chronicle what's going on. Read the whole thing and they go from the very expensive to mass customization to what they call Generation C--who care about little more than what they can create. They, like most marketing people, fail to put the obvious together or come to a deeper understand of what's going on, but I give them props for being honest about what they're interested in. Thanks to my cousin Will for passing them along. And congrats on the new baby!

Trendsetter doesn't mention that all these rich people are hungry ghosts who, despite increasing wealth, parties and social contacts remain completely unable to actually shake a tailfeather. If you've got soul it's a seller market. If you've got money, good luck finding a wway to diffentiate yourself without putting it all on the line. Might as well just go straight for what you really want. You can't be reborn except naked, tender, alone and usually crying.

What else? I guess it's time to make some phone calls to people who owe me money (or results). I don't want to deal with people who don't do what they say. Luckily, the way I'm entering the market, I shouldn't have to worry about that much longer.

I'm sitting here wondering if I should put this half-bile out as usual and just realilzed that no one's given me a red cent for rent yet so why the hell not. One beautiful thing about the way I'm entering the market is that it really doesn't matter. If you don't give me "F*&! You"/David Chappelle money up front you don't even get to know me. (Unless you read my free blog wheree I give you the real deal of course.) I'm also forgetting America's love affair with bitterness. And that it's good to get it out so that my real creative creations are more loviling. Nothing but love, baby.

What am I going to do with this chip once I get on? I'll let the Gold Coast mansion with separate music and painting studios, dope guest house and White G offices next door, my delightful wife, the time and energy to get busy most nights, custom-made White Gold clothing line, full bank account, and Lexus with 18" rims and the WHite G vanity plate, and the knowledge that there is an army of young hustling artists who feel free to drop the real shit soothe my savage beast. My next album will be about sycophants.

Or I'll just vacuum my room, take a nap, and eat chicken and sweet potatoes for dinner.

God bless.

Pay UP!

The neat thing about the video iPod is that it brings us much closer to a time when delivery is of no consequence. Is a fraction of pennies on the dollar.

And, of course, then all anyone has to compete with is content. It won't matter if you're big or small.

Already, being on independent record labels is proving no barrier to success for bands like Arcade Fire and Death Cab for Cutie. Hell, there was an article today in the Red Eye (think a Chicago Tribune lite) about The Shins; the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs; the aforementioned bands; and a couple more I don't even remember. The playing field is so level that being on a major or an indie is as much a lifestyle choice as anything. I still hear a lot of grousing about the cliche "major label" meanies, but I can guarantee you: there has never been a better time to be a band in America! --Especially if you suck.

But we haven't even scratched the surface of what this delivery revolution means. In five minutes we're all going to be plugged into a comprehensive on-demand delivery system. It won't matter if the TV show you're watching is Desparate Housewives or some type of real life Wayne's World from real life Hammond, Indiana--it'll just be another bookmark in your browser. Watch it anytime, anywhere.

Same with music (almost already is), and movies, and probably even books.

In fact it's not too difficult to imagine a day where you'd log on to a site, click on pants in Levi's 501 cut in a certain fabric and matching jacket in a Prada cut, have them sewn and shipped to your house. And there'll be so much that marketing won't work. Quality will show and crud will go.

And then it's on. I can imagine boutique conglomerates dishing out a hybrid mix of talk shows, books, high fashion, magazines, podcasts, music videos, and movies all under their own label. All manufactured and delivered by other companies. But all created from their stable of artists. Maybe the first one will be called White Gold.

I can imagine these corporations engaging in such competition and enjoying such warm advantage over the pasturized, homoginized, processed and cool drivel that comes blasting out of Hollywood, New York, Tokyo, and London, that they charge a healthy premium.

Every artist is a monopoly. And all the "fast food" level cultural concerns are pretty well covered by existing channels.

I can imagine that upon the success of a single example of this new cultural market, say a book called The Love Artist, sold at a single retail outlet, say the Barneys in Chicago, for a significant price, say $120; that several hundred thousand of our most talented and intelligent souls would stop dead in their "trying to be creative without selling out too much but still lying down with dogs and making safe, edgy consumer stuff" tracks and get seriously interested in telling the fucking truth, following their soul's dictate, and learning how to relax.

Why?

Because it would pay!

It pays!

It pays, it pays, it pays!!

I can imagine that group developing the first several billion dollars of this new high end creative economy.

I can imagine businesses big and small paying dearly for even a whiff of this new funk. Of the real reality shows. Of reality, yo!

And starting to turn themselves inside out. Relaxing and becoming human again.

From here I can imagine almost anyone with means--the entire upper fifth of the world's population, perhaps--scrapping any notion of a conventional job then retirement and striking out to be an artist. To find their true meaning. Now that they know their kids won't have to go without food (or braces). And that they'll have more not less stable relationships once they figure out who they are and what they love to do.

And that they don't have to make a Piss Christ or out scream Marilyn Manson to get recognized or make a living. Or spill their guts cheap in front of a crowd of drunk strangers for any reason. Or go on the road twenty weeks a year just to pay their dues.

And I can imagine all the middle management jobs that will need to be filled after these folks find out how good it can be had living the creative life. How relaxing, how enjoyable, how loving it is. How much time you have. How interesting the conversations are. How warm the people are.

And I'd bet there will be a lot of institutions and employers out looking for talented and able people to fill these jobs. That would be willing to train and accomodate new employees in the traditional economy. Because the money's no good. Plenty to live on, mind you, they have to to compete for people, just nothing like the new, creative economy. And nowhere near as fun.

By then, we should have a rich, robust, mature, warm, fun, loving and diverse worldwide culture. And employment for just about everyone who wants it. Paid for not by governments, nor kings, nor non-profits, nor the landed gentry, but by we the people. The ones who want it.

The ones who use it. The ones who need it. The ones who make it.

But employment for the un- and under-employed third of the planet will just be a byproduct. Don't base your decision on that.

Base it on magazines with no ads. TV shows that speak to you, are fun, and don't have ads. Having ten movies that you'd love to see on any given weekend. Two made by friends of yours. A book that changes your life. The time to talk about all this stuff.

Base it on joy. The time to actually be in love and have the sex you know you can have.

Base it on feeling the seasons change. Actually seeing the baby's confused smile in line at the grocery store. And knowing it's for you.

Base it on beautiful clothing made from organic fabrics in time-tested cuts with colors you can feel. Shoes made by someone you know, in the style you want that can be resoled any way you'd like for 20 years.

Base it on getting to know your parents. Your neighbors. That guy who rides the wierd bike.

Do it because there's nothing else to do. And because unless we start creating and consuming fewer, more timeless, more valuable products, we'll destroy this beautiful planet.

Do it so your kids won't have to be punk rockers and try fifteen different methods of blowing their brains out to find themselves. So they'll never even consider black nail polish. So they'll have somewhere to go from day one.

No, don't even do it for that. Do it for yourself. Because it's what you've always wanted. For what feels like an eternity.

Do it because it's right in front of you.

Fall Back..

I got put up over at Worthwhile Mag's blog today. Thanks for the love Anita.

There's lots and lots going on in the world right now. All of it real.

I'm taking it as a gut check. And more reasons to make power moves for the love in my life. (I heard the other day that some Arab religious leaders were starting to question their approval of or silence about suicide bombings). Lots of decisions being made. Lots of corners being turned. Lots of bridges being crossed. I know I'm doing mine.

And relaxing to stay humble as I learn more. I realize I don't want the responsibility of being up in too many people's business. And I like surprise too much. Learn as much as I can and play stupid. Handle my business. A challenge for me because I feel like I've been screaming bloody murder in the woods for a few years to get this thing going. With negligible effect.

The trick, I'm guessing, cause only but a couple have even listened, is to get quiet and relaxed with it. So you don't even care if people care or not. Get used to them changing the subject and follow suit. Talk about the weather casually after you tell them what you've been put on this planet to do. It's not like it's a big deal anyway. It's just what we want.

And if it's what you're here to do, then it's all working out anyway. Just drop the book. $A buck 20$. Go pitch it to Barneys, have your opening, do your love and break. And don't look back like Dylan (without the speedballs, of course).

Lots of love.

If It's Thursday, I'm Out of Clever

A Thread About Premium Pricing for Mass Produced/Distributed Goods That I've Been Gettin' Into It On

Did some shooting with the new camera. Everything is lovely. If we can move this DVD at $160 based on content, y'all better geet started, cause ain't nothing magic about the production values yet!

Hung upside down from the high bar at the park today after being taunted "Old Man!" Did it the first time, impressed the 8 year-olds. Did it again and fell on my head, which impressed them even more, though not the way I had intended, possibly.

Land of nod, here I come.

Back To School Time

Things are coming along nicely. I think I'll be making movies without Mr. Jonze. It'll be nice to keep creative control even if I have to finance it myself. Plus I get all the money. For my empire to grow quickly enough I'm going to need all the cash. Not just screenrighting or even directing money. I've got a world to build like FEMA.

I'm changing the files for the second edition of my book. $120 a pop. Updated White Gold logo. If you've got a $40 one, hold on to it. They'll be worth a mint--I promise.

The documentary is going well. Starting to get into the flow. Starting to capture the fun of this shit on camera. Got a few hours of footage and a line on a decent camera (she just called--WHOOOO HOOOOO!!! YIPPIE KYE--EAAAA!). Thanks you lord! Can't believe I ever lost faith.

Got a new computer on the way (with $14 in the bank--before I bought it). Got my director Robert some transportation and communicationsI'm all in.

Got a couple more songs in the can. In need of mastering--and waiting for new computer and software to do so.

Got a gallery show scheduled for December. The opening should be December 9th and it'll be up until early January. It'll have paintings, drawings, my new Gold Series, the new--buck-twenty--book, White Gold t-shirts, a computer with the web site, a preview of the documentary (and maybe a DVD for sale), a preview of the ALL*MYTEE CD (and maybe cds for sale). White Gold is a way of life, baby.

That's about it. Looking for a date. I don't know if she'll be black, white or orange, but, god, if you're listening, beautiful, ambitious and relaxed as hell. 3-D, please. Did I mention fun, caring, warm, and good mother material and cook? I know you've got the chops, let's geet it on like Marvin Gaye..