The Mixtape Chronicles — Scott Williamson (1 min. 2002) Directed, shot, and edited by Lester Alfonso as part of his ongoing series on this cultural artifact.
Web Log, Day 53 — If this is what happens to your mixtapes after you die, what will happen to this website? It could just disappear. The physical artifacts last a little longer but there’s a better chance at obscurity. At least on the web, it has the potential of reaching hundreds of thousands instantly. If it means anything to you, I’m cross-posting to Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter simultaneously through Vimeo. That means there’s a triplicate of everything I’ve been publishing since Day 1 (the ones under two minutes are also cloned on Twitter — Copy #4.) Since all of this is on the internet, multiple copies won’t necessarily matter when the inevitable comes when humans will either be stripped of computers or we will strip ourselves of them.
With access to Encyclopedia Galactica always at our fingertips, it just keeps us in a state of constant partial attention. Having existed for millennia without handheld devices, someday we might want to relieve ourselves of the ball and chain that is our black mirror — this “smart-phone” is a miniature monolith — a mock-up of the moon monument from 2001: A Space Odyssey. The film portended the arrival of the monolith in our bedrooms.
“It’s close to midnight on the Doomsday Clock,” says a male deep voice with a British accent. Will any of this noise — this scattershot of seed — reach a fertile listener or a quiet earth?
This is what happens to your mixtapes when you die. Would anyone bother to give them to Goodwill now that mixtapes can’t find machines to play them anymore? They’re nothing more than cultural detritus to be dumped with “a bunch of old junk.”
Each video from the archive glides to me on an imaginary conveyor belt to be inspected. What message does the past have for us today? What happens to all our to-be-organized “stuff?” The only thing we have is a story. We’re lucky if it’s a love story. We can’t take anything with us when we take our final rest. The videos on the screen don’t have a tangibility that I can hold. All of this only exists only for right now. An image may last in your mind’s eye but I can’t touch it. A story may be re-told but there is nothing to hold. I exist therefore I am (on video.) Forgive my mixtape of emotions, I woke up late this morning and I snoozed the alarm five times.
Dedication:
To Scott Williamson, wherever you are, I’m sending you the love right now that I neglected to give, the peace that I owe, and all the health and abundance you deserve. There is another mixtape episode starring you that has not resurfaced yet so this letter may continue in the future, as this work is ongoing, but I didn’t want to do for another day what I could do today. Peace brother. Much love. More soon!
LA
P.S. If you’re liking these daily posts, perhaps you can consider becoming a monthly donor for a year or making a one-time contribution. It would seriously help a lot. Your money goes directly into supporting an artist committed to continually become the best version of himself. Thank you so much! Much love, LA