I don’t care about your opinions; keep them private in public places

Despite being a student and arguably a snob when it comes to film, television or any art form; I find myself torn between two worlds. The artistic world; where I discuss symbolism, theme and metaphor, and then there’s my normal guy world. In normal guy world I hate the sound of people discussing theme and metaphor, be it cinema or novels. It is a grating sound that grips your brain in a thumping chokehold as media half-wits engage in a bloody war of words. Each over-baked stew of insight thrown into the ring against their fellow scarfed opponents comes out as attention seeking nonsense; in which they look into minute unimportant sequences to find some grand symbolism. As in, yes a film has this theme, but a close up of a man’s toe nail does not connate Communist oppression in Russia, dolts.

Not to say I don’t exam (and enjoy) in detail the craft of an author or director’s work, but finding meaning in something that is meaningless is top of the agenda of the fancy student body. My deepest worry, is when I’m in my art world, I sound like them. I hope I don’t, when I talk to “civvies” I always dumb down my artiste knowledge, as to not sound like them. And now I’m coming off that way just by writing this thing!

Perhaps worse is the artful-look-at-me-I-go-to-Uni suck up who drool over anyone who has any sort of artistic output. I was heading up Glasgow town the other day to purchase some new comics with my freshly earned doh, in which I took the delightful travel of the underground. A collection of 3 artistes stood about looking stereotypical when they caught attention to a young 30’s man with a shaved head. He walked past and responded to the attention to the guy artiste out of the two girls. It looked as though they would part instantly but a strange friendship bonded as he hung around with them and even got on the train! Now, he was a stranger, yes, but familiar; and the realisation bell hit me as I heard them talk. He’s some sort of art world celebrity.

I couldn’t figure him out, but he seemed oddly familiar in a mind trickery kind of way. The whole journey had them fawning over him like they wanted to bare his children, kiss his feet and plaster his kitchen. I heard them discuss a project with strained forced interest of “wow, you’re so awesome!” Our mysterious bald headed mini-celeb told about his current project that was about terrorism, to which the group collectively widened their eyes as if to say, “Wow so deep, like man, its like current!” Then Mr. Bald Celeb hit out with, “I mean, everyone is so scared about it just now, that something might happen.” Congratulations social commentator, you’ve hit a completely obvious insight in the head with a blunt 5 year old hammer. I really needed you to point out this enigma of a theme, and you proudly announcing it to your minions on the subway only solidifies the fact that you take a certain better-than-you self pride. Enjoy the smell of your own farts, sir. I know the pretentious noses of your peers will.

What is the theme of this little rant? C’mon arty fartsies, talk like that when in class or at the theatre. When in front of the real world, please don’t try to impress. You come off, simply, as douche bags.

If I’ve ever sounded like this, I’m done for!