So I officially fail at social interaction. Every time I try to establish a connection with another human being I either don't say enough and people get annoyed with my inability to articulate myself, or I say way too fucking much and just end up pushing people away.
Getting closer to another person is like trying to get closer to the stars: futile and inevitably foolish. Human beings have no clear understanding or conception about what love is, except that its a feeling and its intangible. I have known love in every possible facet, from the abusive to the reckless to the fruitless, and to this day I cannot explain coherently exactly why I felt that way about any one of the men that I have loved so deeply. What I can tell you for certain is that we're all so goddamn desperate to connect with each other that we convince ourselves that there is meaning where there is none, and that there is intimacy where there is only understanding.
I'm tired and impatient and I don't see the point in any of it anymore. It isn't love that I'm after, its truth, because I've recently come to the conclusion that without truth, blunt and absolute and tactless, there is absolutely no hope of love.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
The ramblings of an idiot fool
4 AM again... and I'm still awake. I'm all adrenalin-y from the haunted houses and the lively conversation, and somehow, as always, I'm finding myself staring off into Infinity, seeing every possible outcome and every possible future and I can't bear it. There was more to this post, a discourse on the human condition and about how we're all greedy, insufferable bastards, but I deleted.... You know, in the interest of keeping things positive.
I found an old story I wrote waaay back when.... Back when I was "good" as my mind seems so inclined to think. It wasn't that it was a terribly bad story, just hideously underdeveloped and juvenile. Well... I was so young then, wasn't I? That's the point of art to a certain extent; it reflects the soul of the artist. I'm a huge believer in the idea that the artist and the art are so inescapibly bound that there is very little room for the spectator, the person who's enjoying the art, in the whole artistic experience. That is to say, when you look at a Jackson Pollock painting, what you're seeing is a reflection of himself. It's such a huge thing, to stand in the room with something so great and profound as a person's soul on canvas, and the experience itself is so profound that there's very little room for yourself in the experience. Suddenly, there's this moment of clarity and you realize that what you are experiencing is something so completely unlike anything you, yourself, are capable of conjuring, that you become what Jackson Pollock was when he painted it, and you catch glimpses of his madness and his genius and his beauty.
It's the same moment that comes over you when you're truly experiencing music in its most perfect, undiluted form, when you're standing among a sea of other people, entranced with the musicians on stage, wrapped up in something so beautiful and so intangible that you can't separate yourself from the person next to you, and you're all one breathing, sweating, weeping thing, overcome and overwhelmed and drenched completely in the auditory.
It's the same moment that comes over you when you read a verse that brings tears to your eyes and you don't even know why. You never went walking in the woods in winter as he did, you never saw the rain or the stars or the human spirit the way the author did, and yet you're there, with the author, weeping over a choice that was not your own and you could not make, and yet you were so heavily invested in that choice that you couldn't help but cry out when our hero made the wrong turn.
There is no such thing as bad art. There are bad artists; artists incapable of evoking the artistic experience. I blame Twilight on Stephanie Meyer, and I blame Piss Christ on Andres Serrano and I blame you for having not experienced the perfection of true genius.
I found an old story I wrote waaay back when.... Back when I was "good" as my mind seems so inclined to think. It wasn't that it was a terribly bad story, just hideously underdeveloped and juvenile. Well... I was so young then, wasn't I? That's the point of art to a certain extent; it reflects the soul of the artist. I'm a huge believer in the idea that the artist and the art are so inescapibly bound that there is very little room for the spectator, the person who's enjoying the art, in the whole artistic experience. That is to say, when you look at a Jackson Pollock painting, what you're seeing is a reflection of himself. It's such a huge thing, to stand in the room with something so great and profound as a person's soul on canvas, and the experience itself is so profound that there's very little room for yourself in the experience. Suddenly, there's this moment of clarity and you realize that what you are experiencing is something so completely unlike anything you, yourself, are capable of conjuring, that you become what Jackson Pollock was when he painted it, and you catch glimpses of his madness and his genius and his beauty.
It's the same moment that comes over you when you're truly experiencing music in its most perfect, undiluted form, when you're standing among a sea of other people, entranced with the musicians on stage, wrapped up in something so beautiful and so intangible that you can't separate yourself from the person next to you, and you're all one breathing, sweating, weeping thing, overcome and overwhelmed and drenched completely in the auditory.
It's the same moment that comes over you when you read a verse that brings tears to your eyes and you don't even know why. You never went walking in the woods in winter as he did, you never saw the rain or the stars or the human spirit the way the author did, and yet you're there, with the author, weeping over a choice that was not your own and you could not make, and yet you were so heavily invested in that choice that you couldn't help but cry out when our hero made the wrong turn.
There is no such thing as bad art. There are bad artists; artists incapable of evoking the artistic experience. I blame Twilight on Stephanie Meyer, and I blame Piss Christ on Andres Serrano and I blame you for having not experienced the perfection of true genius.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Insomnia + MSN + One Cranky Independent
So I got into an interesting debate one time with an Australian. Basically, his whole shtick was that Americans are stupid because we don't have Universal Health Care and we're stupid if we don't put it into effect. You know, be more like Australia, New Zealand, Spain, England, Canada and Mexico....
His logic was flawed; it's based on the idea that America can afford Universal Health Care and doesn't want to pay for it. America is, first and foremost, in tremendous debt and can't afford to pay for Universal Health Care. Blame who you like, we can't afford it. I can't afford a new car, or to buy a house, or even a new winter coat, so I don't buy those things. Mr. President is not thinking this through even a little. Right now in the US if you go to the ER and and you're sick, you will be helped. End of discussion, we're not the animals the rest of the world seems to think we are. When the bill comes and you can't pay? Believe it or not, Hospitals can't refuse to care for you even if you're foodstamped and homeless. They just can't.
I told him that. I mentioned that I thought it would be nice to have the government regulate the healthcare industry a little more, instead of finding new and creative ways to tax us. He LOL'ed at me, and patted me on the head, saying "It's so cute when Americans try to think."
I then pointed out that... um... not for nothing, but Australia isn't the first country that the UN NATO and everyone else shouts for as soon as there's a tragedy or an attack. I also pointed out that Australia isn't supporting inordinate amounts of unemployed masses.... You know, like America is? Australia isn't in the debt we're in, nor are they expected to offer all manner of humanitarian and tragedy relief every time someone somewhere gets a booboo or can't handle their local dictator. Not to minimize the world's suffering, we're all a little broken.
Then I got really annoyed with myself because I only ever defend America when it's a non-American criticizing it. Most days I'm so frustrated with the idiotic way this country is being run and the ridiculous ideas being thrown around by people who obviously slept through Logic 101 Freshman year that social interaction becomes a chore rather than a pleasure.
Thing is, just because I can't wrap my head around the ideas doesn't mean I haven't tried. It doesn't mean I don't WANT to believe that the Big Man in the White House has our best interests at heart.
One of the worst things ever was when my Republican BFF called me a Freedom Moocher because I dared to criticize our predominately Republican government back in the day. I pointed out that if I hadn't traveled abroad then I'd just be an educated, frustrated citizen voicing my concern. Then I'd turn around and tell my British friends to please STFU because, yeah, Bush wasn't a superhero, but when 911 hit, he pulled it together and said "We're gonna get through this, it'll be okay." He insisted that we not let terror rule us. He was a reassuring presence during a black black period in our modern history.
And yeah, he kind of screwed the pooch in a lot of areas, but look at it this way: Mr. Obama's plan will send America into 9 Trillion dollars further into debt over the next... I think it was 10 years. I THINK. It's almost 4AM and I can't be bothered to look up the exact timeline. Do NOT blame that debt on the Republican's you Liberal B-tards. They're only responsible for 3 Trillion of it.
And you Republican Ijots, can we please just admit that this was a war over oil? Please?! It's OKAY that it was a war for oil. Wealth is just as good a reason to go to war as morality, at least the American people will have something tangible to think about while they're enduring price gouging at the gas pumps and laughably unnecessary inflation.
Right, my powerful brain is tired of this text window. Here endeth the rant.
His logic was flawed; it's based on the idea that America can afford Universal Health Care and doesn't want to pay for it. America is, first and foremost, in tremendous debt and can't afford to pay for Universal Health Care. Blame who you like, we can't afford it. I can't afford a new car, or to buy a house, or even a new winter coat, so I don't buy those things. Mr. President is not thinking this through even a little. Right now in the US if you go to the ER and and you're sick, you will be helped. End of discussion, we're not the animals the rest of the world seems to think we are. When the bill comes and you can't pay? Believe it or not, Hospitals can't refuse to care for you even if you're foodstamped and homeless. They just can't.
I told him that. I mentioned that I thought it would be nice to have the government regulate the healthcare industry a little more, instead of finding new and creative ways to tax us. He LOL'ed at me, and patted me on the head, saying "It's so cute when Americans try to think."
I then pointed out that... um... not for nothing, but Australia isn't the first country that the UN NATO and everyone else shouts for as soon as there's a tragedy or an attack. I also pointed out that Australia isn't supporting inordinate amounts of unemployed masses.... You know, like America is? Australia isn't in the debt we're in, nor are they expected to offer all manner of humanitarian and tragedy relief every time someone somewhere gets a booboo or can't handle their local dictator. Not to minimize the world's suffering, we're all a little broken.
Then I got really annoyed with myself because I only ever defend America when it's a non-American criticizing it. Most days I'm so frustrated with the idiotic way this country is being run and the ridiculous ideas being thrown around by people who obviously slept through Logic 101 Freshman year that social interaction becomes a chore rather than a pleasure.
Thing is, just because I can't wrap my head around the ideas doesn't mean I haven't tried. It doesn't mean I don't WANT to believe that the Big Man in the White House has our best interests at heart.
One of the worst things ever was when my Republican BFF called me a Freedom Moocher because I dared to criticize our predominately Republican government back in the day. I pointed out that if I hadn't traveled abroad then I'd just be an educated, frustrated citizen voicing my concern. Then I'd turn around and tell my British friends to please STFU because, yeah, Bush wasn't a superhero, but when 911 hit, he pulled it together and said "We're gonna get through this, it'll be okay." He insisted that we not let terror rule us. He was a reassuring presence during a black black period in our modern history.
And yeah, he kind of screwed the pooch in a lot of areas, but look at it this way: Mr. Obama's plan will send America into 9 Trillion dollars further into debt over the next... I think it was 10 years. I THINK. It's almost 4AM and I can't be bothered to look up the exact timeline. Do NOT blame that debt on the Republican's you Liberal B-tards. They're only responsible for 3 Trillion of it.
And you Republican Ijots, can we please just admit that this was a war over oil? Please?! It's OKAY that it was a war for oil. Wealth is just as good a reason to go to war as morality, at least the American people will have something tangible to think about while they're enduring price gouging at the gas pumps and laughably unnecessary inflation.
Right, my powerful brain is tired of this text window. Here endeth the rant.
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