Really, unforseen fires will rage with an ire that you cannot comprehend. They will burn brighter than the north start and devour the world. They will be known as "brit-pop", and there will be no escape.
I've got not much to say at this time, but the mere realization that what I have been missing is embracing that odd world view that I do hold so dear. Something that it is , is the way to look at the world through an eye full of sublime terror, and to see a thing that is wildly humourous and often abrasive. When I feel this, when I connect with it, things seem more interesting, and the possibilities seem endless, and entertaining. Music swells, and the doors open. There I see my love and devotion, there I see saving.
But that is just romanticized babble, coming from a man who hasn't written anything worth reading in 2 years. I've been trying, but I've been on a dry streak, though I can feel something coming back. It feels like there is this thing in the distance that I'm creeping towards, but I'm almost afraid to get there. I wonder what it is, and why I fear, but I can't stop. This is a good thing. When I hit that point in my mind, something will snap into place and I'll fall into gear and make something. That's the way it works.
It's like the death of Dali. When he loved money and not art. He would dab 3 dots of colour on a canvas while in the tub then splash water on it. He would then sign his name, quipping, "well that one will sell for 40k". It is easy to make nothing in a short time and call it art, but hard to really make art.
A mentor once told me that if writing were easy, everyone would do it. I've probably said this before, but when you are really writing something good, when you are firing on all cylinders you will be completely worn out by the end of your session. You will want nothing more than a good bed. This is not pouring over every word trying to make the perfect phrase, but this is pouring yourself out onto the terrifying blankness and creating a whole world in words. That is powerful. Even god had to rest on the seventh day. What he made was physical. Mere mortals like us can only make the ephemeral.
But this is like everything else I love. I put time and effort into it, working to be good, but it will never move beyond something that I love and devote to. I am not sure that I ever would want it to. I mean, I would love recognition, but at the same time I have an aversion to it. My birthday is in a day, and while I want to get people together for it, it is not the reason. I want to see people. I don't want people to venerate me, I've never wanted that. I shrivel in the gaze of others. I prefer the background or the shadows. It's safer there.
But there it is and there it's done. With nothing left to say here, I slink back into those shadows. The writings on this page are publicly private, and I enjoy that. I like people having an eye into how I think. I don't know that I think any differently from people, but it's nice to just throw stuff out there sometimes. It's gotten me in trouble before, and it probably will again. I cannot really make sense of it, and how it fits into my aversion of attention, but oh well. It's here for those who want to peek, it's there for those who don't.
-ccmas
I've got not much to say at this time, but the mere realization that what I have been missing is embracing that odd world view that I do hold so dear. Something that it is , is the way to look at the world through an eye full of sublime terror, and to see a thing that is wildly humourous and often abrasive. When I feel this, when I connect with it, things seem more interesting, and the possibilities seem endless, and entertaining. Music swells, and the doors open. There I see my love and devotion, there I see saving.
But that is just romanticized babble, coming from a man who hasn't written anything worth reading in 2 years. I've been trying, but I've been on a dry streak, though I can feel something coming back. It feels like there is this thing in the distance that I'm creeping towards, but I'm almost afraid to get there. I wonder what it is, and why I fear, but I can't stop. This is a good thing. When I hit that point in my mind, something will snap into place and I'll fall into gear and make something. That's the way it works.
It's like the death of Dali. When he loved money and not art. He would dab 3 dots of colour on a canvas while in the tub then splash water on it. He would then sign his name, quipping, "well that one will sell for 40k". It is easy to make nothing in a short time and call it art, but hard to really make art.
A mentor once told me that if writing were easy, everyone would do it. I've probably said this before, but when you are really writing something good, when you are firing on all cylinders you will be completely worn out by the end of your session. You will want nothing more than a good bed. This is not pouring over every word trying to make the perfect phrase, but this is pouring yourself out onto the terrifying blankness and creating a whole world in words. That is powerful. Even god had to rest on the seventh day. What he made was physical. Mere mortals like us can only make the ephemeral.
But this is like everything else I love. I put time and effort into it, working to be good, but it will never move beyond something that I love and devote to. I am not sure that I ever would want it to. I mean, I would love recognition, but at the same time I have an aversion to it. My birthday is in a day, and while I want to get people together for it, it is not the reason. I want to see people. I don't want people to venerate me, I've never wanted that. I shrivel in the gaze of others. I prefer the background or the shadows. It's safer there.
But there it is and there it's done. With nothing left to say here, I slink back into those shadows. The writings on this page are publicly private, and I enjoy that. I like people having an eye into how I think. I don't know that I think any differently from people, but it's nice to just throw stuff out there sometimes. It's gotten me in trouble before, and it probably will again. I cannot really make sense of it, and how it fits into my aversion of attention, but oh well. It's here for those who want to peek, it's there for those who don't.
-ccmas
posted by CCMAS | 2:50 AM
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