Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Let me pinch my fingers together and desperately try to push something to the surface. As sentences and thought become more and more divided and fragmented you begin to dissect yourself and who you are. The pieces of paper with words written on them signifying who you are, a mother or artist a carpenter maybe or a just happy person. pour your mind on the table and examine it, are the different parts of you as attached as you hoped they would be. Are you a collection. How do you set down the collection of traited that signifys your personallity. Society seems to glorify those who can maintain the illusion of organization. Only when these people prove them selves to be common in their fears do we take particular interest in them. So many times while im writting i just want to erase everything like there is a standard im not adhearing to with my creativity. Like there are guidelines I should follow regarding making sense or constructing coherent sentences that come to some sort of point. I just want to hold a magnifying glass to the boiling well of nonsence and stand as an observer of chaos and admire it for its freedom.
Monday, June 7, 2010
With two big full hands of water I splashed my face clearing away ten solid days of disgusting mess. I don't think water was even splashed on me this entire trip. Just yesterday the last of us had returned from Widespread at the Redrocks. I had been either sleeping on the ground or stuffed into the back of an Isuzu four runner. My arms and face were tanned with dirt and grim soaked into my clothes and hair. I was bathing an a wild creek in the northwestern Montana with five people I didn't know. There was father and his two daughters and also a couple laying together on an inflatable raft. The sun cut through the trees and reflected on the water creating bouncing diamonds all around me. The current was just strong enough that if I lifted my feet from the sand below that it would take me down stream slowly in the waist high water. The tall line of trees on either side of the creek hung in over the water as if shielding it from the sun. It was nearly mid day and as I lay there serenely basking in the cool water I thought to myself about how they called it big sky country, cause somehow the sky could seem so close you could touch it and at the same time go forever in the distance in all directions. I stood up from the water and walk naked to the shore where my towel and other things are. After dressing I walk out of the sparse forest surrounding the creek towards the valley. As I look on into the high hills on either sides of the narrow valley I see people in small groups scattered everywhere all over the side of the hill. Some just laying in the sun enjoying its warmth and couples are laying together on blankets. A mother and children chasing each other through the tall grass of the clearing ahead of me. As I walk barefoot, I hold my sandles and hat in my hands and my shirt and towel neatly folded and under my arm. Im wearing sunglasses and my mid neck lenth dreadlocks are tied loosly back on my head. As I make my way into the clearing i see a great line of people walking in both directions. This is like the main road of our weird gigantic town. One direction leads to the dirt road that will take you back to civilization and what not while the other leads you deeper into the gathering. People are all over the clearing doing yoga and hoola hooping and just sitting together and smoking and talking. I make my way into the crowd and join the traffic heading back into the forest and twords camp. On the out skitrs of the forest there are different camps with four or five tents of all shapes and sizes all surrounding there own camp fire or sharing with a close neighbor. As i passed everyone I marveled at the different things every one was going to occupy them selves. People were sleeping in the grass or cooking or playing music. everyone seemed to be enjoying the relaxing day.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Creativity is a very tricky thing. It comes when it wants to and is no where to be found other times. Sometimes you sit there with a pen and a pad or a computer and just stare at the blankness like if you sit there long enough the dam will burst and suddenly you ll be fucking Shakespeare for an hour. Some times you try to push it with forms of inspiration like drugs or maybe a brisk walk in the park if your John Denver. Sometimes I catch myself laying in bed and thinking to myself about what Im gunna do the next day. Like Im gunna get up and write or play guitar or even exercise. Sometimes though when you laying in bed or walking or staring off into space at work you honestly have a genius fucking idea. You can always tell those cause you get a little tingle up the back of your neck and you may even get a chill. I think thats what the word epiphany must be reserved for. Ideas like that. I really love social networking cause you get to have a glimpse of other peoples attempts at deep thought. Ive noticed that some people cant conceive a single original thing about them. From the quotes to the pictures people use to represent them, some people dont have a shred of originality. Im not saying Im original or its my place to throw stones. Im the first person to tell you that all I am as a person is just a collection of other peoples bullshit mixed with a tad of my own. Id like to think that everyone has the ability to be creative in some for or another but its hard to do that. People make it hard to believe that everyone has the same potential. Are some people destined for mediocrity? Maybe its even a genetic fate that cannot be avoided. Alot of famous peoples children are famous too. Im sure this has entirely to do with money than creativity. I mean think of Julian Lennon for god sakes. There are anomalies though.Some people can waste their entire lives in the persute of innovation. Some people however can throw their lives away doing nothing then one day they will be standing there with their finger in their nose and suddenly bam they invent facebook or soap on a rope. What kind of parameters are required for a super good idea. What kind of ingredients do I have to throw in the pot here. Holy shit I think I just had my super idea. Im gunna teach my dog to laugh at her own farts.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
What is someone Else's ideas worth to you? How well do you remember someone Else's stories when they share them? Sometimes I try to think to myself about one person that I know pretty well. Then I try to think about how much I know about them and their life. How much of you is comprised of stories and lessons learned from other peoples lives. I think for some people their parents must make the biggest impact if they're willing to share. If your smart and if you can, maybe you ll use this as an opportunity cause I know I didn't. I think its important to take what you can from others even if you don't like them. Sometimes its the people you like the least that you can learn the most from, especially if you think you hate them. I just like to think about what comprises who I am. I mean your mind, in my opinion is like a limitless bowl that can never be filled. How much of the bowls contents are your personal experiences? How much of it are stories from other lessons learned from daytime TV or movies or even a song or novel? I think there is a balance we have to maintain here between your own personal experiences and the ones we allow into our interest. I think it would be convenient if we came with a filter to censor out some of the bullshit. It would be interesting to find out the storage capacity on the human brain. Id hate to find out I maxed my shit out with to many episodes of Tim and Eric when I could have been listening to classical music or something. This right here is why people find religion so very important. They don't know what they should fill their bowl with. But who does really anyway?