I love them. Mornings like this. Crisp cool, a perfect autumn beginnings. I rode my bike over the bridge, some thing that is particularly special, 'cause I just got the bike and am rarely up and at 'em in the morning.
So much has transpired since last I was able to converse with you senor blog space as I will refer to you now.
It is interesting to write as often as possible. Many times I try to write and contemplate something that matters to me. But my brain tends to be rather cyclical in this department. I am always trying to make something happen and am generally about three steps behind. So i am trying to stay focused, amp myself up and work it. Then I sit down to write and realize I have the same thoughts propelling me forward. While what I want to write about are the little moments. The spaces in between, where I can find myself both in my life and outside of it as well.
The world gets crazier with every minute. It becomes even more important to find the space that sets you free. freedom is the ability to be yourself, and to explore into your definition of what that means. The world will only get more complicated, more of a confusing mess, and more violent. Why? We, as in the human race, have created this scene, predominantly dem whit-ees from Europe and the states. Take a long view. Like the martians in a Phillip K. Dick's story. Colonialism still exists under a new name. The boarders of Iraq were drawn up by England after WW1. We have no place in the middle east and yet we have involved ourselves in shaping their history for a hundred years. the mistakes of the generations before us cannot be erased.
I am not religious, and yet Jesus' words come to mind. "Forgive them, they know not what they do." Maybe there is a Father in there. But it is so true. Escalation in Hong Kong, to the point no one can back down. Another school shooting seemingly every month. In the center of all the violence in the middle east Israel brashly murders to display their might. Ebola runs rampant. Russia is on a mission to reinstate it's aggressive history. Global warming becomes more apparent as storms and droughts rage. And through it all our politicians become more racistly isolationist, power hungry, and just plain ineffectual.
My generation has inherited this world. I hope we will start to do something serious to attempt to set it right. I am not with great faith, but will continue to dream. And hopefully i can squeeze out some more beautiful mornings to tool around, wheels spinning, as the air flows over my face and into my heart.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
sitting in the bus terminal in Columbus.
I have been in Pittsburgh for the week. I was picked up from the airport by my cousins and taken to my grandmother's compound in Aspinwall. Nuna, as we call my grandmother is a trip. She is an eighty six year old sicilian Jungian phycologist. Her and my grandfather, Papap, owned three brick buildings in a nice neighborhood in Pittsburgh. First of all, Aspinwall, though considered a nice neighborhood always felt like a weird little twighlight light zone trap to me. It is boxed in by highways, and train tracks, and a river. And unless you have a car you literally cannot get out. And there are their three houses, which always remind me of pap, or Tony. Though dead seven years they still house his memory. And may be related to my aunts eagerness to sell them off. Or maybe we just live in a hard time. Tony would be in tears. We were gathered upstairs, in what I would think of as the second building. This is the apartment where Tony died, but when I visited them in my youth they lived next door. In an apartment he renovated to be larger, by building three rooms over a garage port. The room is laid out exactly like the one next to it was. Except here the walls have now been stripped of their photos. The nail holes stand out emphasizing the bareness. But none of this matters, because even though it has been seven years, since Tony's death that this many of the family has been together, it suddenly feels like yesterday. Pap was of Polish and Scottish decent, as I said Nuna was Sicilian. They had five children, four girls and a boy. My aunts and uncle and their spouses love to drink wine and get loud. Their children are not much different, and definitely share that trait. So we were having many conversations, eager to catch up on each other's lives in a manner that made it hard for any one to actually glean anything.
I need to sidestep this story for a moment. I have been thinking a great deal about our world, about how we exist in it simply to find a way to exist. There are less and less humans who subsist on the planet. And a constantly growing number who have to subsist on the system we have put into place. This, one, lends us to preform jobs that are often not integral to human survival, and allows people who are powerfully stationed in the system to use the way our society is constructed to their benefit. These are somewhat obvious facts, but they are important to keep in mind when we are considering our own place in society, and when we want to consider changing society in the future.
I don't usually hazard to think that I could impact the development and course of humanity, and yet in a non ego oriented way it is important to remember that if you ever did have something worth saying, something that does have weight and impact, it would be heard if you were able to say it. And there would be forces to shut you up. Just as those forces have worked to twist, alter, and co opt, many of the important dreamers of our history. It is also important to remember that we have constructed this society for ourselves. Or rather the ancestors of the fortune five hundred club have designed this for them. The point of remembering such a thing is not to hold on to a grudge at the bastards who made this mess. You can do that if you want, but rather to realize that this is our world, and that is does not have to be structured as it is. Yes that is easy to say if you have money and hard if you don't. Ie, dreams are fine for the winners. But in a more intimate way we make decisions all the time. We make judgements all the time, and how often are our thoughts biased by what our society, which is in many ways hostile and cut throat, programed us.
If there ever is going to be a non violent revolution it will come from inside of us. Our own minds and perspectives will change, as they do all the time. Most notably from generation to generation. But we have to do it consciously. We have to want a better world. And if we really want that. We have to willing to be better. And I am not saying be nicer, be a good samaritan. To be what the world needs. To take responsibility for our species and it's role on the planet.
Dammit, I hardly even started talking about my mother's wedding.
I need to sidestep this story for a moment. I have been thinking a great deal about our world, about how we exist in it simply to find a way to exist. There are less and less humans who subsist on the planet. And a constantly growing number who have to subsist on the system we have put into place. This, one, lends us to preform jobs that are often not integral to human survival, and allows people who are powerfully stationed in the system to use the way our society is constructed to their benefit. These are somewhat obvious facts, but they are important to keep in mind when we are considering our own place in society, and when we want to consider changing society in the future.
I don't usually hazard to think that I could impact the development and course of humanity, and yet in a non ego oriented way it is important to remember that if you ever did have something worth saying, something that does have weight and impact, it would be heard if you were able to say it. And there would be forces to shut you up. Just as those forces have worked to twist, alter, and co opt, many of the important dreamers of our history. It is also important to remember that we have constructed this society for ourselves. Or rather the ancestors of the fortune five hundred club have designed this for them. The point of remembering such a thing is not to hold on to a grudge at the bastards who made this mess. You can do that if you want, but rather to realize that this is our world, and that is does not have to be structured as it is. Yes that is easy to say if you have money and hard if you don't. Ie, dreams are fine for the winners. But in a more intimate way we make decisions all the time. We make judgements all the time, and how often are our thoughts biased by what our society, which is in many ways hostile and cut throat, programed us.
If there ever is going to be a non violent revolution it will come from inside of us. Our own minds and perspectives will change, as they do all the time. Most notably from generation to generation. But we have to do it consciously. We have to want a better world. And if we really want that. We have to willing to be better. And I am not saying be nicer, be a good samaritan. To be what the world needs. To take responsibility for our species and it's role on the planet.
Dammit, I hardly even started talking about my mother's wedding.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
broken pieces will never go back together
Well, spent a week getting ready to fly to Pittsburgh, only to find out the tickets were messed up and I was possibly going to miss my mother's wedding. Since I wasn't there for the first one I intended to make it this time around.
Going through cha cha changes. My voice is dropping, growing hair where there was not before. Nah, I just wrapping this up and heading to Eugene after the wedding. Don't know how that will feel, it will either be productive to go back to what is the closest I have to a home right now, or be a distraction. I think I have the mettle and focus right now to weather the laid back small easy going, beer swilling attitude.
The main thing in my mind is to work on getting shows now, actually. If I start the ball rolling on being an artists, and shifting my image of the place and the places image of me into a full fledged art-tiste. Changing ones image can be a delicate task. One can not force something new on aggressively. And yet, one cannot slip back into old habits. And old friends can make that slide down the rabbit hole look appealing. But when i be painting like a junkie with pigments in his veins, nothing can arrest my development. That's my road. I can feel inspiration brewing.
That's the way it is. Sometimes you are just in the right space to produce. All I wanna do is smash paint together and smear it on a canvas for all the days. Ain't no one gonna hold me back.
Bussin' around Eugene should be interesting. Part of me suspects that if I don't find a house to park in I might get broken into. Which is not surprising, simply that after all this time in Portland with out incident..... But I eat my Wheaties, geared up, and amped on life.
That was too much. Sounds like some sort of teen warrior, battling inexcusable behavior and poke marked skin. Yeah, insert Judd Nelson fist pump.
Got to be careful not to unduly psyche myself up here, and then stagnate in the real world.
I do spend an exorbitant amount of time thinking about mixing paint.
There is so much to say, don't know why i am stagnating. I have been working on a story. On a world where things are falling apart. And people are loosing it. For a myriad of psychological reasons people are cracking. A world like ours, but where the collective unconscious has reached a boiling point. Disasters are common place, business and food distribution is starting to fail globally. War and disease are rampant. Mainly our world spinning a little more out of orbit. And people start cracking.
Let's see, weirder than what is actually happening. Maybe someone building their own dirigible, so they can be a floating sniper. We already have drive by's on the white house. I just imagine people flipping out in the streets. Not all violent stuff. Just this sense that the future is fucked, so consequences are not the same. As a global perspective the human spirit is erupting in uncertainty. It gives alot to work with as a story teller. More on this later.
A guy I know was shot by Woodstock last week. I did not know him well. I did, however, know the guy who was with him. I know we cannot escape violence in this world. But it sucks. People do not deserve to be murdered senselessly. We should not be afraid to go out into the streets. And the wars continue.
Going through cha cha changes. My voice is dropping, growing hair where there was not before. Nah, I just wrapping this up and heading to Eugene after the wedding. Don't know how that will feel, it will either be productive to go back to what is the closest I have to a home right now, or be a distraction. I think I have the mettle and focus right now to weather the laid back small easy going, beer swilling attitude.
The main thing in my mind is to work on getting shows now, actually. If I start the ball rolling on being an artists, and shifting my image of the place and the places image of me into a full fledged art-tiste. Changing ones image can be a delicate task. One can not force something new on aggressively. And yet, one cannot slip back into old habits. And old friends can make that slide down the rabbit hole look appealing. But when i be painting like a junkie with pigments in his veins, nothing can arrest my development. That's my road. I can feel inspiration brewing.
That's the way it is. Sometimes you are just in the right space to produce. All I wanna do is smash paint together and smear it on a canvas for all the days. Ain't no one gonna hold me back.
Bussin' around Eugene should be interesting. Part of me suspects that if I don't find a house to park in I might get broken into. Which is not surprising, simply that after all this time in Portland with out incident..... But I eat my Wheaties, geared up, and amped on life.
That was too much. Sounds like some sort of teen warrior, battling inexcusable behavior and poke marked skin. Yeah, insert Judd Nelson fist pump.
Got to be careful not to unduly psyche myself up here, and then stagnate in the real world.
I do spend an exorbitant amount of time thinking about mixing paint.
There is so much to say, don't know why i am stagnating. I have been working on a story. On a world where things are falling apart. And people are loosing it. For a myriad of psychological reasons people are cracking. A world like ours, but where the collective unconscious has reached a boiling point. Disasters are common place, business and food distribution is starting to fail globally. War and disease are rampant. Mainly our world spinning a little more out of orbit. And people start cracking.
Let's see, weirder than what is actually happening. Maybe someone building their own dirigible, so they can be a floating sniper. We already have drive by's on the white house. I just imagine people flipping out in the streets. Not all violent stuff. Just this sense that the future is fucked, so consequences are not the same. As a global perspective the human spirit is erupting in uncertainty. It gives alot to work with as a story teller. More on this later.
A guy I know was shot by Woodstock last week. I did not know him well. I did, however, know the guy who was with him. I know we cannot escape violence in this world. But it sucks. People do not deserve to be murdered senselessly. We should not be afraid to go out into the streets. And the wars continue.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
first Thursday
Well it worked. I mean I will have to go back to the drawing board, the handle will have to be lower. What the hell am I talking about. My art cart of course. It is rather simple. Over the winter I needed a way to show my art. So I came up with these two slats of wood that have notches cut out of them, big enough for a painting to slip in and stand upright. That was for my spot on the street during art walk. Then i decided they charged too much and art walk was bullshit. So I lifted up the whole set up and put it on wheels. Put a stand on the back and a handle and away we go. Art Cart. The thing is it is a cumbersome beast that will wear you down after a few blocks, let alone a couple miles. My shoulders are sore. I might of made a sale if I had gotten a space on thirteenth. But I was just fed up with the fifty dollar rental price. I hate the feeling that if I don't make a sale I am fucked.
Of course I am fucked. But for entirely different reasons. Mainly because I cannot figure out how to speak in ones and zeros.
I am going to take a wild turn here and discuss my family and why it bums me out. I feel like I cannot talk about my grandfather, because he was so successful and without trying climbed the ladder right into the white house and beyond. Because he was the secretary of education and I did not want to go into massive debt, like my mother, and never went to college myself. You cannot really say a sentence like that and not sound off some family problems alarms. Of course there are problems, but they have been so carefully avoided, that I have to talk around them to explain them.
I do not wish to complain, that has no place for me on this forum. I wish I could openly embrace the man who had the largest role in my development. A man that was kinder, more caring, selfless, and perceptive them any one else I have met since. You know when you are with some one and the moment just feels special. It feels like time has slowed down and is smiling at you. The here and now is exciting, but in a peaceful way. I miss him dearly.
But I have a job to do. Paint and survive. Even if I cannot share my memories, I will hold him in my heart. And I will live on, on the quest I have been on in some way since I shook the yoke of family and home. I used to think Grandpa would understand. would know why I choose to struggle down my own path rather then join society and climb the accepted ladder in the accepted way. Now I don't know. I know he would be captivated by the story that I have lived. But he may not understand it. It may not be understandable.
Of course I am fucked. But for entirely different reasons. Mainly because I cannot figure out how to speak in ones and zeros.
I am going to take a wild turn here and discuss my family and why it bums me out. I feel like I cannot talk about my grandfather, because he was so successful and without trying climbed the ladder right into the white house and beyond. Because he was the secretary of education and I did not want to go into massive debt, like my mother, and never went to college myself. You cannot really say a sentence like that and not sound off some family problems alarms. Of course there are problems, but they have been so carefully avoided, that I have to talk around them to explain them.
I do not wish to complain, that has no place for me on this forum. I wish I could openly embrace the man who had the largest role in my development. A man that was kinder, more caring, selfless, and perceptive them any one else I have met since. You know when you are with some one and the moment just feels special. It feels like time has slowed down and is smiling at you. The here and now is exciting, but in a peaceful way. I miss him dearly.
But I have a job to do. Paint and survive. Even if I cannot share my memories, I will hold him in my heart. And I will live on, on the quest I have been on in some way since I shook the yoke of family and home. I used to think Grandpa would understand. would know why I choose to struggle down my own path rather then join society and climb the accepted ladder in the accepted way. Now I don't know. I know he would be captivated by the story that I have lived. But he may not understand it. It may not be understandable.
getting ready for first Thursday.
The morning starts with a dew drop. And I knew we had to pull on boot straps. As the concrete climbs around us, I look beyond. To the sky.
I don't really say much. Even when I disagree with someone and feel like their words are rather stupid. I avoid arguments because when you engage someone to tell them where they are wrong, your ego gets involved. I have seen it countless times. Someone may know better, but the point of question is quickly lost, and the head to head collision of pride and knowledge turns ugly. My father is a theologian, my eldest brother decided he was atheist when he was six and I was two. I don't know if there is a god, I don't know if the CIA killed JFK or bombed the world trade center. The universe is a vast and marvelous place, with amble arguments to support many opinions. That is the nice thing. People all over the world have have vast and unintelligible views and beliefs. To me none of them are wrong. The only thing that is really wrong is when one idea or world view begins to dominate and create one system. I do not care that fast food chains make a killing stuffing americans with low grade food. I do get disappointed when I go to China and see their stores there, replacing traditional culture. I am fundamentally insulted anytime it is apparent people are putting profits above moral obligations.
And yes, we know the difference between right and wrong. Right? Do the Koch brothers recognize the damage they are doing for profits. I think so. I think these greedy CEO's have created a competitive environment, where their resumés are lists of new ways to take advantage of people and the world. Are they evil, yes. Do they know it? Somewhere in there, but they surround themselves with like criminals. It happens in a lot of groups. I can be a racist bigot when I surround myself with other racist bigots. It is the history of the world. It is also one of the most important revolutions of the information age. That every thing we do and say, could possibly end up going viral, especially if we are recorded being offensive. Secrecy and transparency have have new meaning and depth.
I feel like there is a good story in here somewhere. about people, congressmen or something getting screwed my misspoken words, and someone else, maybe someone in ISIS, knowing how to use these modern tools to their benefit.
Tonight is first Thursday. My last in Portland for the year. I have built a silly little, or not so little art cart. Where I can wheel around my paintings and not have to pay the stupid fees for a cage on the street. It takes a little more to explain, but these parking spot spaces you rent from this art council is really a joke. You get all your stuff to sell together, and take it over there and then hock up fifty bucks for a spot. So the minute it starts you are desperate for a sale. And then everyone walks by you like a monkey in a zoo. A few may come by to look at a painting, but most do not want to engage. And once again you want to shoot your self in the face.
I don't really say much. Even when I disagree with someone and feel like their words are rather stupid. I avoid arguments because when you engage someone to tell them where they are wrong, your ego gets involved. I have seen it countless times. Someone may know better, but the point of question is quickly lost, and the head to head collision of pride and knowledge turns ugly. My father is a theologian, my eldest brother decided he was atheist when he was six and I was two. I don't know if there is a god, I don't know if the CIA killed JFK or bombed the world trade center. The universe is a vast and marvelous place, with amble arguments to support many opinions. That is the nice thing. People all over the world have have vast and unintelligible views and beliefs. To me none of them are wrong. The only thing that is really wrong is when one idea or world view begins to dominate and create one system. I do not care that fast food chains make a killing stuffing americans with low grade food. I do get disappointed when I go to China and see their stores there, replacing traditional culture. I am fundamentally insulted anytime it is apparent people are putting profits above moral obligations.
And yes, we know the difference between right and wrong. Right? Do the Koch brothers recognize the damage they are doing for profits. I think so. I think these greedy CEO's have created a competitive environment, where their resumés are lists of new ways to take advantage of people and the world. Are they evil, yes. Do they know it? Somewhere in there, but they surround themselves with like criminals. It happens in a lot of groups. I can be a racist bigot when I surround myself with other racist bigots. It is the history of the world. It is also one of the most important revolutions of the information age. That every thing we do and say, could possibly end up going viral, especially if we are recorded being offensive. Secrecy and transparency have have new meaning and depth.
I feel like there is a good story in here somewhere. about people, congressmen or something getting screwed my misspoken words, and someone else, maybe someone in ISIS, knowing how to use these modern tools to their benefit.
Tonight is first Thursday. My last in Portland for the year. I have built a silly little, or not so little art cart. Where I can wheel around my paintings and not have to pay the stupid fees for a cage on the street. It takes a little more to explain, but these parking spot spaces you rent from this art council is really a joke. You get all your stuff to sell together, and take it over there and then hock up fifty bucks for a spot. So the minute it starts you are desperate for a sale. And then everyone walks by you like a monkey in a zoo. A few may come by to look at a painting, but most do not want to engage. And once again you want to shoot your self in the face.
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