Erik Stinson
I was born at a Seattle Washington hospital in December of the year 1987, to my mother, Julia, and father, William. My mother was math and science teacher. My father was a mechanical engineer for an airplane manufacturer.
Erik Stinson—
Because you missed it, Zach German and Adam Humphreys’ disquieting short film “Baseball” is now streaming at portable.tv (scroll down to read a review by Jimmy Chen). See me in the credits and in the deleted scene, to be released never. Full disclosure, portable.tv is the former employer of my horrifically terrible [unnamed] ex-roommate, whose writing and alleged Australian work visa make me want burn New York City to the ground and fight to repeal the first amendment.
5
Every day that I don’t give up writing completely feels amazing
I’m not one of those people who feels the need to write all the time, as you may have guessed, from reading my other shit on this website.
I frequently turn over the possibility of permanently ceasing all writing outside of my job. It’s not unusual. I think other contributors have mentioned this impulse. I’ve considered announcing this in some kind of horrifically boring final post. It’s obviously not a palatable idea, because who gives a shit? Certainly not someone similar myself, the self-audience, who is probably too lazy to every submit a single piece of writing to micro-press, let alone establish a relationship with an agent or editor. It doesn’t fit with the frozen vibe. I don’t fear rejection at all. I fear wasting people’s time. I fear over-sharing. I fear talking to an empty room.
Th end of publishing is kind of like a party thrown by a really unpopular kid.
The Merger Of Ghosts
Penguin and Random House aside, it’s not unusual to witness the merger of two large companies – Publicis and Omicom this week, if regulators approve. These things happen, between competitors, in market spaces where the norm is already collusion, diffusion and consultancy.
Media companies and advertising agencies don’t provide value in simple or easily counted ways, though we are told that the services they bill are common, reasonable, or even essential to the operations of their clients, who actually make and distribute products. Mom and pop and factory floor.
Actually, in some cases client companies are as vaporous and high-minded as the agencies that provide ‘creative services’ or ‘brand management.’
IRL by Grant Singer, Patrik Sandberg, others
It isn’t reactive or responsive. That would be another segment of media, another bunch of freaks. You freaks, maybe.
It’s preservative. Like, poison chemicals, shrinkwrap, electrical tape. Cool dairy at a Manhattan bodega. Expired?
OPEN on the horror of being young in New York City in 2012.
OPEN on contemporary nightsweats.
OPEN on a young starlet, Sky Ferreira. Cold dead eyes, perfect skin, broken mind, numb boyfriends.
This film is 15 minutes of shameless, turnt up dread feelings. Photography by Jason McCormick. Hair by Darine Sengseevong. Patrik, who used to do a radio show I listened to before I moved to the Bay Area, wrote it. Grant Singer, with an eye for dark beauty work and terrifyingly empty places, directed.
It’s gross, unrelenting, bleak.
It doesn’t read like a temping short or a paced feature. It reads like a commercial for death. It’s up on your screen for a few minutes, blasting. And you half-conciously consider what is being sold: fucked youth, the unmoored hyper-metropolitan self, art world teen egos grinding up against imagined fame and power, hardened late-20s lust.
Pretty Little Truthers
Pretty Little Liars is a show about the relationships between women. They are young women, living in a small town in Pennsylvania, on a southern California set. It resembles the Gilmore Girls set.
Recently, I find myself uninterested in any other type of show.
There are a series of murders. The outfits are really bad and you can buy everything you see at Macy’s.
I just don’t feel like there is much merit in trying to make art about men.
It’s been done to death. My girlfriend encourages me to watch Mad Men. She wants to see the actors act. I feel like the parts about advertising are funny and sad, I’m a reflected nonsense, when I watch that show. It calms me.
“HIS LAST DAYS AS AN ARTIST”
“HIS LAST DAYS
AS AN ARTIST”
Slash Lovering
60 min
[2011, partial, unpublished bootleg – Erik Stinson, 2013]
Characters
CARL – male, 29
LINDA – female, 24
ROMAN – male, 29, work friend of Carl
SOPHIE – female, 22, a reveler
1 EXT Bushwick, Monday night, in the quiet of the early
work week, walking from the train, then INT at CARL’s
apartment.
Erik Stinson—
Does HTML Giant have eras? Did it? Periods of time where different kinds of writing or types of contributors dominate?
Cost Per Impression: Anti-history of The Persuaders
Nobody really gives a shit about the history of adveriting. This isn’t a complaint. It’s a thesis.