... In almost six months, I have finally completed a finished piece of serious art.
Most of me feels indifferent, but part of me feels accomplished and slightly regretful that I haven't been doing more in the last months. What to do, what to do...
School was great, don't get me wrong, but it really sucked the joy out of making art. It spewed me out more learned and cultured, but dang.... all I've wanted to do since is pass out in a hammock on the beach surrounded by empty beer bottles Corona commercial style. I guess I need a beach, and a hammock. I've been living my days out lately through the lives of the Travel channel hosts, right now through Anthony Bourdain. The episode I'm watching while typing this takes place in Spain, where my niece Jasmin happens to be doing a study abroad program. She says she's not a huge fan of the food, but Anthony Bourdain gets a gastro morning wood thinking about Spanish food. Hmm.
Instead of drawing, getting a job, being responsible, I've been cooking and making my own travel channel food creations... nothing fancy because I'm too lazy for now. Hopefully, this lazy streak will change shortly, because I like good food, and I enjoy not being a poor bastard too.
One day, perhaps next week. Wish me luck.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Playing Mute
Buongiorno lost and forgotten blog,
my how I have not missed you.
It's been a few months since I've posted on zie blogs, and even longer when it's been voluntary. I talk myself into thinking I have nothing to contribute, nothing to say, but this is a big, fat, ugly, tumorous, infected, congealed, gluttonous, jiggly lie.
Of course I have things to say, things that I think about. I'm thinking all the time, even if it's going slower than L.A. traffic over a bowl of coffee, it's there. The fact is, and more obvious as of late, I'm just a lazy S.O.B. that doesn't like taking the time to catalog these fleeting thoughts I later regret not writing down. Part of the procrastinating burden to bear, I guess.
Usually it takes place as passenger. 20 years old, and I still don't have a drivers license. I think I'm supposed to feel terrible about this like I've failed a significant rite of passage or something, but I don't. Maybe if I had an out of control case of herpified rabies contracted from my mother's evil dogs (which could plausibly happen) and was the only one around to drive, I might break down and visit the worse of the hells that is the DMV and actually get a license. So far this hasn't happened, and voilà guess who still doesn't drive.
With that said, I get a lot of time being passenger either as carpool, clever sidekick, or another troll victim of public transit. Here I have ample time to think, and am aware of just how much I am thinking, but alas, how to apply this immediately to writing and not be a rude, determined I can't think of a good enough insult to label what I'd be lugging a notebook around everywhere is the question. An old professor of mine used to go on tangents all the time in class, and one time during a lecture on marxist art theory, he talked about a conversation he'd had with a friend at a bar. They had been boozin' a bit, feeling fine and letting the philosophical talk that often comes in that state flow through them just the same. After awhile, his friend asked, " What is your favorite thing to do in this life that brings you the most satisfaction?"
And with a good deal of pondering, really searching for the most accurate sage answer that is expected, he replied, "Well, I love to think."
Well, wise sage professor, so do I.
I think a lot, about the past, present, sometimes future, but mostly the past and nonexistent possibilities. What if's pop up frequently, as do gratifying musings and filthy disgusting things a former church girl shouldn't even know about. Ah, the filthy disgusting and downright nasty things... not bad at all.
An interview with Howard Stern I listened to a few weeks ago touched on this subject regarding public personas, personal lives, and the give and take of the two. Howard Stern, admittedly, has a shock-value, vulgar public persona that is fascinated with sex and oddities the average person on main-street USA would find scandalous, but also morbidly curious to listen about.
On the flip side, this raunchy sexually liberal thinking dude has had a pretty tame personal life free of the kinky desperate outbursts and scandals that certain straight laced, sexually suppressed individuals have(here's looking at you Catholic Priests and members of the Republican Party.) In other words, balance is key.
So, with this balance, I think I do alright. Nothing to worry about yet, I suppose.
And, to get to the point after all this mumbo jumbo, I'd like to write more. Get this thinking game rolling and actually document some of this cripe from time to time.... if only it didn't take up my time. Discipline, by golly! I'll try to make this happen.
Ta-Ta for now, the faja is sleep eating again and aside from an excuse to stop typing, I might save a man from indigestion.
my how I have not missed you.
It's been a few months since I've posted on zie blogs, and even longer when it's been voluntary. I talk myself into thinking I have nothing to contribute, nothing to say, but this is a big, fat, ugly, tumorous, infected, congealed, gluttonous, jiggly lie.
Of course I have things to say, things that I think about. I'm thinking all the time, even if it's going slower than L.A. traffic over a bowl of coffee, it's there. The fact is, and more obvious as of late, I'm just a lazy S.O.B. that doesn't like taking the time to catalog these fleeting thoughts I later regret not writing down. Part of the procrastinating burden to bear, I guess.
Usually it takes place as passenger. 20 years old, and I still don't have a drivers license. I think I'm supposed to feel terrible about this like I've failed a significant rite of passage or something, but I don't. Maybe if I had an out of control case of herpified rabies contracted from my mother's evil dogs (which could plausibly happen) and was the only one around to drive, I might break down and visit the worse of the hells that is the DMV and actually get a license. So far this hasn't happened, and voilà guess who still doesn't drive.
With that said, I get a lot of time being passenger either as carpool, clever sidekick, or another troll victim of public transit. Here I have ample time to think, and am aware of just how much I am thinking, but alas, how to apply this immediately to writing and not be a rude, determined I can't think of a good enough insult to label what I'd be lugging a notebook around everywhere is the question. An old professor of mine used to go on tangents all the time in class, and one time during a lecture on marxist art theory, he talked about a conversation he'd had with a friend at a bar. They had been boozin' a bit, feeling fine and letting the philosophical talk that often comes in that state flow through them just the same. After awhile, his friend asked, " What is your favorite thing to do in this life that brings you the most satisfaction?"
And with a good deal of pondering, really searching for the most accurate sage answer that is expected, he replied, "Well, I love to think."
Well, wise sage professor, so do I.
I think a lot, about the past, present, sometimes future, but mostly the past and nonexistent possibilities. What if's pop up frequently, as do gratifying musings and filthy disgusting things a former church girl shouldn't even know about. Ah, the filthy disgusting and downright nasty things... not bad at all.
An interview with Howard Stern I listened to a few weeks ago touched on this subject regarding public personas, personal lives, and the give and take of the two. Howard Stern, admittedly, has a shock-value, vulgar public persona that is fascinated with sex and oddities the average person on main-street USA would find scandalous, but also morbidly curious to listen about.
On the flip side, this raunchy sexually liberal thinking dude has had a pretty tame personal life free of the kinky desperate outbursts and scandals that certain straight laced, sexually suppressed individuals have(here's looking at you Catholic Priests and members of the Republican Party.) In other words, balance is key.
So, with this balance, I think I do alright. Nothing to worry about yet, I suppose.
And, to get to the point after all this mumbo jumbo, I'd like to write more. Get this thinking game rolling and actually document some of this cripe from time to time.... if only it didn't take up my time. Discipline, by golly! I'll try to make this happen.
Ta-Ta for now, the faja is sleep eating again and aside from an excuse to stop typing, I might save a man from indigestion.
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