In Thomas Mann’s novel Buddenbrooks, older brother Thomas has this to say about his younger brother Christian:
Christian is very incautious—undignified . . . something is lacking in him—what people call equilibrium, mental poise . . . self-control and personal reserve are both lacking . . . Christian busies himself too much with himself, with what goes on in his own inside . . . he has a regular mania for bringing out the deepest . . . of these . . . there is such a lack of modesty in so much communicativeness . . .
Max Steele, whose intimate blog entries are tagged: Apocalypse, Feelings are Hard, Imaginary Boyfriends, Music, Nightmares, Pain, Revenge, Romance, and Tooth Drama, is a spiller, too.
He’s a writer, performance artist, go-go dancer and singer living in NY (more enviable bio info here) but I only really know him as a blogger. I’ve been following his blog (it’s so much easier than stalking) for about a year now.
It’s a chatty, lyrical and verbose chronicle that’s often punctuated with unexpectedly candid revelations:
Basically what I'm doing is trying to make art out of the feeling of profound disappointment that certain people won't be my boyfriends. Dated 7/19/10
Too broke to continue seeing a therapist, the blog is also the site of much self-reflection and analysis—a mélange of self-doubt, angst, melancholy and optimism:
Last night I was working on some writing, and getting really down on myself. I sort of was doing that usual "You're a fake, you have no talent and nothing to say" trip on myself (Y'KNOW IT'S CALLED "THE ARTIST'S WAY" OR WHATEVER) and I was so bummed out. I thought: "Great, I'm quitting my job to be broke and have more time to devote to my writing, which sucks and makes everybody hate me." But then I actually had some initial / good ideas and I felt better. So maybe all I need is a little more time to get over my self-hatred, work out some demons. You never know. I think it's a step in the right direction. Dated 7/19/10
In an entry entitled Bad Theatre, dated 10/22/09, Max asks:
Is it fair to ask people to pay me money to hear, essentially, stories? Is that really fair?
It’s worth it, Max. You give good text. (And it’s worth reading the entry in full.)
I sometimes ask myself: Is it fair that people have to put up with my stencils, essentially, graffiti? Is that really fair?
Someone called olsmokey would say it isn’t. Here’s what olsmokey had to say about the removal of a Bansky stencil by Melbourne city council workers who painted over it a couple of months ago:
Someone called olsmokey would say it isn’t. Here’s what olsmokey had to say about the removal of a Bansky stencil by Melbourne city council workers who painted over it a couple of months ago:
Graffiti isn't art, it's vandalism. Big deal, he uses stencils. Oh wow, how artistic. Sandblast the crap off the walls and send the bill to him . . .
But then when I saw the photo of Max in Interview Magazine I thought, Oh wow, it would make a pretty good stencil and I think it’s fair to say he looks great in purple on the yellow pole outside Xplicit (my chess partner reckons it brings out his brooding quality better than the photo). Sadly, I'm predicting he won't last long there, which will be a shame given he's a major improvement on the gents who usually loiter outside the club on venue nights.
(night shot near the bus stop outside Xplicit Gents Club, Separation St, Northcote)
And here's a present my friend Ulrikären bought me a few years ago:
('Max' jug, a treasured gift from Ulrikären)
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