What Are We Looking For

It's been more than a month since my last blog post. I know it seems like I take an occasional hiatus now and then, and this is true, but a new life has been metriculating slowly in my direction so it's not really an issue of commitment. I've gone against the grain in many respects (though not like Jean Des Esseintes)...I've been conducting myself a little differently, feeling and thinking differently...and definitely looking for change.

The question I ask myself frequently: What am I looking for? I think too often people find one thing, see that it works, and accept it regardless of it's condition and quality. Now that I'm progressing onto higher levels of education, where the listless have been supposedly weeded out, I'm starting to feel...that expected sense of anxiety that I think even those with predominantly level headed character traits still feel in times like this. I want to tattoo somewhere in the back of my brain: Don't settle, discriminate. There's a certain class of people who should feel it's their true calling to cast a discerning eye on life. Otherwise, how have you really lived? People say, question everything...but since when did tolerating everything and respecting everything also become morally just? These are two polar mantras and I'm feeling it in my bones (not just in my head) the absolute ludicracy of somehow accepting both ideaologies.



Place and Location


Sometimes you don't know how beautiful something is until you see it through a different filter. A movie might do it, or a book. I think I've found another reason why art is a valid element in society, it does for place what a cat scan does for the body or a good wine does to food. In order for these "filters" to really work, you have to seperate creation from creator, art from artist...briefly...and try to see and feel it in a universal way. I think children sometimes have the best grasp on this idea. Children, drunkards and stoners. The best of us can see and feel through filters without fairytales, wine, or marijuana.


One of my Dad's slides from India, I'm guessing on the Ganges. 1970's


One of my favorite filters...


My true love drowned in a dirty old pan
Of Oil that did run from the Block
Of a Falcon sedan 1969
The paper said '75
There were no survivors
None found alive

Trees break the sidewalk
And the sidewalk skins my knees
There's glass in my thermos
And blood on my jeans
Nickels and dimes of the fourth of july
Roll off in a crooked line
To the chain-link lots where the red tails dive
Oh how I forgot what it's like

- Neko Case, Star Witness