Tuesday, July 23, 2013
This is a Blog Post (2)
Here I sit writing again, drawing again, drinking again: A bottle of Goose Island 312. I am upstairs and she is downstairs. I'm guessing she is thinking of me somewhere in her mind, but maybe not. She's on my mind and I am writing it down in order to concentrate on what I am really thinking about.
I see the dark side of things easier than her.
She is irritated because she doesn't want to hear those things all the time. She doesn't want to be that pessimistic or even hear pessimistic words uttered in her presence.
This seems strange to me because I consider myself an optimistic person most of the time. My favorite author is Kurt Vonnegut and that is a pretty average American choice for Favorite Author, at least if social media offers any small nugget of rational evidence for humanity in the ocean of white noise that is called Social Media. Favorite Author is a message in a bottle.
I wonder if she wants me to apologize for what I made her hear: my opinion on something.
We disagree on something.
I won't apologize because my mind still believes my opinion. I would say it again if I am as lucid in voice as I was at the time. I wanted to be heard completely during a moment when I could be so complete about a single thought. This doesn't happen often when I am engaged with other people dying to let me know what they think about what I'm saying before I'm done saying it. That is the core of my anxiety, I think. I am guilty of dying to let one know what I think before they finish what they are saying completely. I am guilty of this with anyone I am around for an extended period of time. I want them to know what I know if they do not already and I want to figure out the best way I can do that when I am around and my college education happens to kick in.
Art Education at Purdue University. An establishment I regularly openly mock for being ignorant of reality. Explain to me the difference between that American institution of education and the mafia. Anyone.
Mitch Daniels's Cronies on the Exponents front page, an independent student newspaper at Purdue University. Summer of 2013 in Lafayette, Indiana.
College taught me to try, but not how to try, so there is a lot of trial and error.
Feynman said how, not why and we are complete opposites. I appreciate that dead guy, though he thought differently. The Manhattan Project.
I'm in love with another girl. She who is downstairs knows. I think she knows it. I suspect she knows it better than me. She is more cognizant of the love and affection she receives.
Before I started writing, I finished making a necklace for a girl that I am occasionally head over heels about when my mind meanders until I find her in there. I wrote this girl a letter about the necklace before it even had a chain. I misplaced the pendant. I made another pendant, before the first was found. I'm going to send her, far away from me, the second pendant, now with a chain. I think she will like it better than the first one because I studied color theory in high school and college.
Q: Why did I do that?
A: Because it felt right at the time.
The first pendant is without a chain, more textured from the wear and tear of traveling with me on one of the most memorable journeys I have had in a very long time. I was bad at making jewelry in college (I did in fact take a jewelry class.) Everything was too small and too precise to one thing. I've always been quite assertive in explaining everything instead, in any way I could, even if it is wrong somehow. Right or wrong, but hopefully complete.
"The Art of the Gift Package" would be the title of my embarrassing self-help book.
"I Like Dogs Because I Understand Them Without Trying" would be another title I'd choose in a more drug-addled mind.
"The Art of Liking, But Losing at Pool and Chess: An Underdog Story" by Goofball Magoo.
"Life's Funny." Probably already the title of a book. I'll check the book section at Goodwill the next time I am there.
None of this matter unless someone appreciates it. I appreciate it even if it annoys me on occasion. I try to appreciate, and maybe tinker with it when I feel I can. I either make static or something to appreciate other than static, such is life. A life where you can think the way you can so long as you let people think the way they can and do what they choose to do, but not in your backyard if you really don't want it.
If you are an artist, follow who you appreciate. Keep following because you appreciate them. You appreciate every layer and it brings you some solidarity that they exist. They really exist. Let science explain the how and simply feel the ecstasy of something when you finally can.
"Note the Decomposition" Angelica Huston said in The Royal Tennebaums.
Artist, Architect, Anthropologist, Archaeologist, Aaron. Aaron writes these things and makes a false idol. His older brother up on Mount Sinai, a subject of Archaeology on The History Channel since time immemorial in a 20 something male's mind.
The History Channel has shows about noodling for fish, now. I think of my high school band teacher who was fond of military marches, diet coke, and noodling for fish.
There are people you do not care about, but why?
There are people you hate, but why?
Because you're human, I think, but who am I?
I'm not you, Bukowski, but I know you. I am glad to know you.
I think I know a lot of people because I appreciate what I hear and see, when I decide to appreciate it, because I feel it is time to think of something other than myself.
This is when I decide to make lists:
-Mail my letter and necklace to her.
-Focus on Foam City, The Drawing Board, performance and education.
-Draw the things I've been ask to draw by people I appreciate, because they ask me to draw, even though I will anyways.
-Mail a lot more things I make and remind me of people I love and miss.
-Smile at the proximity.
-Keep trying even though you are out of fuel right now.
-Get rid of your unnecessary expectations when you simply don't need them anymore.
Aaron C. Molden