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Jamie's Jams Archive |
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Jamie's Jams: Marketing Desire
By James Willoughby Here I am finally; distant glowing futures of iridescent ambient texture landscapes stretching as far as the mind can see. My own man. My own future. My own life. My own love. My own cause. My ownership. Myself. Where will it take me? Where does The Journey end? I don't think the destination is important, for every destination is just another jumping point to something greater. Where will my spiritual quest lead me? Is salvation at hand or are the world's religions just a grandiose hoax? Which is the truer philosophy, Atheism or Theology? These questions seem to be the crux of my existence yet my existence doesn't stop because of them. Perhaps this is the existential truth I've been searching for all my life.
The spirits of wine and the futures of coffee mix together in an inextricable emotional palette better than the finest French restaurant. I wish I could share this with someone. Words are too few and too inadequate to fully convey feelings. Music is the best language we have. The universal language. The language of love. I often scoff at feelings or interpretations. I often scoff at songs. Then I see a song mixed with an image and suddenly I realize. I realize what is expressed. I realize what is missed. I realize what is predicted. And I cry.
Jamie's Jams: My New Life As A Career
By James Willoughby Kill'em with kindness. You only get what you give. What you put in is what comes out. You get what you bargain for and you've gotta bargain for what you get. If you can't get in, then get out. In a world of faceless pawns, in a giant economical chess match, you've got to figure out what you want and then go take it. No one else is going to hand you a fortune on a silver platter. It's work.
Go to a bar with lots of artists and observe them morosely obsessing over what they have become - an effect of the global economy. Oh, the pain! Crying like this - interestingly enough - is a great way to attract all the women you never wanted, or vice versa. Why is it that so many creative individuals are obsessed with downtrodden messages of pain, apathy, sadness and hatred? I for one am determined to turn the tides and usher in a new era of corporate sabotage base on kindness. Kill'em with kindness. Jamie's Jams: The Donkey Paradigm - Redux
Tag lines are for the emotionally weak. Catch phrases are for the attention spanaly challenged. Slogans are for prostitutes. Your audience is always more intelligent than that, and if not - well you're SOL kid, get a day job. Thesis statements are for the non-conformitally challenged. I'm nonconforming as can be - you can wear ripped jeans and black makeup and you'll be nonconforming too if you be just like me. I don't use thesis statements; I don't need thesis statements; I don't like thesis statements. I don't have thesis statements. I don't have a terminal illness. I don't feel the need to rush out and get one - though they do seem to be rising in popularity these days. That was intentionaly ambiguous. The formal educational system is a dismal fraud and failure and I think it's time I stuck up for my rights as a creative individual to say that I can write what I want, how I want and know that people will read it because it's good - not because of catchy taglines or headlines - though they never hurt. Alan Ginsberg said "I won't write until I'm in my right mind." I beleive him, and I know where he was coming from. He was coming from the same place we all come from. The narrative of life: Spiral smoke signal couches cradle me as I think about my future. The time has come! It's always like that for me. When I stay in one place for too long my innards start to preserve and pickle themselves like waking up from a long nap after too much dinner. Metaphors seem to be the only things that are real these days. In fact, my life is one big metaphor for life. Funny how that works. If someone had told you 10 years ago that you'd be where you are right now would you have believed them? I sure wouldn't have, yet here I am. Well I guess that's the reason we keep kicking, cuz we never know. Tears For Gears
By James Willoughby
Why The Tears? We've become urbanite temperamental beasts of burden, wandering amongst a cluttered landscape of utility. We pleasure ourselves uniting communication and artistic expression. Our hunger for stuff makes us gear sluts, thirsting after the newest bio-functionality extensions. How did this happen?... the endless dose of clutter and Borg-ification of modern society. Our world of gear has consumed the best consumers we've ever known and left them withered quivering saliva piles on the floor of Best Beast. We all know that gear is important. Hell there's a magazine named after it. Gear does so many things for us in this life. The new fall catalog is out. Oh look, a new breed of cardigan which wicks away sweat leaving you dry and comfortable while still being breathable and airy yet warm and comforting! Oh, my gosh I've never seen one of those before. These are not at all like the warm breathable sweat wicking plastic cardigans they had last year, I must have one. 
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DPAC* Presents: MAD MEN's Little Helper, Part One.Commercial Worthy - Anyone for Scrabble?Are You Trying to Make Me Laugh?Shea's Photo Album: A Guide for Reason in an Unreasonable AgeAdvertising 2.0's Hip-Rap HoppedCommercial Worthy - Straightaway!Budget's "Underfunded" UGC: Viral or not?"Super Budget Vacation -- The Video with a Heart"Former Rocker Turned Real Estate Agent Turns Video Kerouac'erOff-Off-Broadway Goes 3-D!MARKETING JOBS
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