2001-09-01

Ok peoples. What is up this week? the last weekend of summer. Autumn begins oh too soon. Yesterday I went to the US open. (no not the golf tournament, but the tennis one). Kelli and I made a huge day of it, and had a very good time.

Martina Hingus (is that spelled right?) we were both infatuated with, I think, thanks to the effective American Express Ads that are all over the city and especially the subway. She is one sexy lady tennis player.

And then we saw Serena and Venus Williams knock out some competition. They are big and strong and very good.

So, between Dorney park on monday, and the Open on friday, i got all of my sun from the summer in two days. Now, you might guess, my fairy fair complexion doesn't fair well in such conditions. You would be right -- I am now completely red skinned on half of my arms and legs. My nose is pretty pink too. And my hair? Beach Blond, like it's supposed to be.

ok this entry is getting pretty mundane. I told myself i'd just sit down and write a good entry while i was on the train coming to work. but it just isn't happening yet.

Today is Big Party #2 at The Space. Ever since Kristy left to go to Burning Man, I have kind of been in charge. And, believe it or not, things are coming together better than ever. I hate to think that i'm the best man for the job, but it seems like right now in my life, this is the thing i was meant to do. Its perfect for what I'm interested in. I'm managing a creative space, so i get my fill of ego-tripping as the leader. But its all non-profit and co-operative, so its not too serious; which is good for me, since i prefer to take life not too seriously. And its all about a collaborative art scene, which fits me to a 'T' because i have always been confounded by the opposite - "solitary" art. I mean, everything is collaborative, in a way. I think its more proactive to consider everything you do as a collaboration. If you go to the store to get some vegetables, you are working and interacting with the person behind the counter who takes your money, the vegetable stacker who makes his/her living arranging fruit and vegetables. The bus driver, the people on the street, the cars that have to wait as you cross the walk. It's all collaborations. And art that reflects that is art that is aimed true. If you sit in the studio all day and make a painting or a film or a song or whatever; what gives it life outside of your studio is its marketability. Do people like it? or can it rather be classified as some sort of self-propelled mastubatory excercise?

If people want it, or are interested in it, then there's a chance that its good right?

To hell with this myth of the starving artist who can barely clean up after himself; of the overwhelming success and fame that comes to his next of kin post-mortem...

I work with all types of solitary types and recluses who have myths sustaing themselves. Myths of homelessness triumphing like Basquiat. of Messy wild child energy like Pollock. of indie filmakers making it 'their way'. You need to create your own myth. with the input of past stories. but jesus don't limit yr.self to having one hero to follow. Or else you'll end up another Mariah Carey (who i think, dont we all, needs to take a long rest somewhere away from cameras and recording devices).

Where in the heck am i going with this?

I don't like to curse, i've figured out. I have some sort of aversion to it. I even erase 'hell' and put 'heck' on my computer screen. I just don't fancy the 'unproperness' of it. People here in New York think i'm some sort of schmuck. sometimes. I am so white, and i talk quietly. And i don't walk so proud sometimes. the prostitutes at Queens Plaza always kind of jeer or talk down to me. This girl who comes to the space, i won't say her name, says to me:

so what's your deal?

and i say, -- more specifically?

she -- good family ...

to which i reply quickly, shortly, " no"

she -- money ...

"no"

her -- School ...

"yes",,, "friends from school", yes.

my grounding is in my school life. i miss it soo. but not really. just acting like im still on some sort of academic grounds as i go about town. ('oh, im just on the way to finish up a thesis over at the library, uh, i mean workplace). I made school my family, in a way. but then also i never really found the focus, or my major. my major was learning in general. I don't even read that many books. Still sort of self - taught, like i didn't let those 5 years of college really take hold of me, or command my lifestyle. Everything from the base - up. From the ground up, if you don't rely on anything you read or take in, then you know you can trust what you're building (your life), it's more organic. It's more natural.

Not that i don't consider things from books, thing from other people, and take them in.

I am wordy, my girlfriend told me. My songs are wordy. My paintings are wordy, my writing is wordy. so what does that mean? what am i relying on? what am i so scared of, that i won't just say what i feel? By just jusxtaposing words on top of words and passively playing around with sentence structure, what is it that i am refusing to say? the poetic meaning of it all, can be stated in a few simple lines. the truth is the hardest thing to say. If someone wants your opinion, do you give it to them?

or is it more interesting to consider their side in the matter, before saying anything. Henry Clay was the great Comprimiser, in American history. Context is everything. why go barreling in the bush, stomping around everywhere with your ideas and opinions? when instead there is so much delicacy and vivaciousness in what we see around us! Ferns, roots, myriads of bugs, beetles, birds... This world is a forest, and it deserves observation!

But at the same time, Who can stay silent forever? "Walk silently, but carry a big stick!" What does that mean? well, i think we need our opinions, because they construe who we are. as a person,as an individual, you are made up of what you do and say. your actions not only reflect your personality, they Are your personality. so what do we do. A complete comprimiser is a fool, and you know that that person is hiding something. They wear too many masks. It seems to me the trick is to have masks, but at the same time, have an inventory of the masks, have a complete familiarity with your facades. a working knowledge. We have dimensions to our personalities, and then we need to reel that all in, to weave it all together.

art and craft. statement and background. sign and de-sign.

so often do i get caught up in words and evaluations and excercises. it is then, when i find myself so befuddled, that i whittle it down to the bare essence. what is it that we are all here for? what is it that makes this all have meaning? love. when i feel love for someone, and i feel that someone also love me back.

aaah. the best. nothing. everything.

and then fear to say certain things here holds me back because of why? fear of what old friends may say who i have known but now see very little of? What's the point in that? what's the point in worrying about the past, and what the past thinks of you?

then again (comprimiser) how is the future any more important than the past? What i mean is, consider Einstein's theory of time/matter. consider the native american's pledge to keep the earth as it was for 7 generations into the future. For their kin is a line. kinship is a connection into the centuries ahead, and before. this is a tradition ... time is relative and not necessarilly linear. Why is my life so important? why should i take center stage?

but all of this is moot. I use known things, ideas, theories. I blend strange ideas together, ultimately to step back from what is important which i am hiding and am hiding from. A flourish here distracts the audience's attention.

and then to think that, all the while, as i am writing this, just trying to be simple and forward thinking, all that time trying to make 'good stuff' appear on this page, that is interesting and compelling -- a voice jumps from the back of my head - 'oh that part is good! you could use that part later!' - as if everything were utilitarian, everything was meant to be used.

this is not the case! something just aren't meant to be anywhere else but here. now . in this moment and that 's it.

again, i am holding back from telling you all my deepest, darkest fears. my homosexual tendencies. my heterosexual fantasies. my hypersexual fantasies. my need to be clever above all else.

i act like a wise old man at the age of 25, and i avoid sex. but no, its deeper than that. i feel bored by it sometimes. if life were a cake, i might just like mine to be something bordering on bread, as far as sweetness. a poundcake, with only a thin layer of icing across the top. I only need a little to be happy. A little bit of oil goes a long way. A little bit of sugar. mix it and pound it and work it into the batter. life is work. i enjoy work, it makes me feel like i am engaged with time. i am wrestling with time. I spend a day working on a few songs maybe, or painting. and this is just a matter of repitition. The Fall had a song called "Repititon", which Jason Likes Science once covered at a college party. It was so great and meant a lot to me, in hindsight.

they just repeated the word 'repitition' about 50 times in the song, and that was it. it was great.

Digging a ditch is great. Sweeping a floor is great. Solving huge math problems, working with logical questions, questions of beauty or aesthetics in a poem. in a song, or a picture. or environment. this is all great.

it is my task to be as broadminded and mindbending as possible. it is my task to be as abstract as possible without losing you all. I am feminine, in some ways. this is my way with dealing with my femininity. wordiness, acute but still sweeping, as if i could pile up all the words in my inventory and wist you along enough to somehow express my lack of confidence in the world. my idea of 'femininity', skewed as it is, has something to do with touching everything, and not knowing for sure anything in particular. Instead knowing for sure everything at once.