Poignant Blurs

Creativity Works

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Location: Florida, United States

"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours." - Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Define Edgy

I used the word the other day, which I don't usually, and I thought a good exercise would be to define it:

Different in a good way.
Pushing the limits.
A good chance at being "the new".
Daring.
Potentially awesome.
Marketable; in a market by itself.
Fresh/questionable.
The kind of thing only the right person/behavior can pull off without getting totally hung out to dry.
The zone every creative person wants to find.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Harmony

They say that music tames the wild beast, but I have seen it enrage the tamed. I think that when they look back on my generation they will see that we had a penchant for "anger music". For a generation dubbed "apathetic" that tells you a thing or two. Think about how we were, teens pre-9/11, not able to conceptualize the strange state of the world. As a friend once said, "tamed, but not taken". I remember being at concerts, the mosh pits, the violence. It was something we needed, an outlet.

Music tames (or enrages) the beast because it speaks to the beast. Music captures that rare dynamic, as all art does, but music does it in some profoundly different way, an interactive way.

For example, after reading a particularly moving book, it would be inappropriate to go smashing about your house or neighborhood, displaying those deep feelings, wouldn't it? Same with a particularly moving painting. But music, music is raw. Music is action. At a concert, you may walk away with a black eye like it's a souvenier. You may hug a stranger. You just don't know.

Music is physically expressive. It can be profoundly sexual. It can be intoxicating.

I once auditioned for a show VH1 had planned to run (but never did) on music lovers. Asked to define what music meant to me I was stumped. "It's the soundtrack to my life" I answered. "One song can bring me back ten years, or transport me forward, or carry me through". I couldn't see how anyone could answer the question any differently.

Mosh Pits will be a thing of my generation, and I like that. Mosh Pits have a dynamic, and back when, there used to be an etiquette to it. A joint sharing of pain with the unspoken agreement to back off if one person got overwhelmed. These days I see more violence in them, but I think it's a statement almost, of how tamed and stilted we feel. Of how much NEEDS to get out.

These days everything is a media sensation. You'd wonder how it's possible there was anything left to say. but the more we are talked at, the more we want to plug our ears and close our eyes and the more we need to say what we want to say.

Everyone just wants to be heard.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Acclimation

Settled in, stretching out, like liquid I settle into the old mold, filling up the old familiar places.
There is a beauty and simplicity to "home". Home can be anywhere, it is really just a feeling you carry with you, and for me that feeling is strongest here, for now.
I was stretched out, balled up, grumpy and hot when I left Florida. Now I'm languid, soft, tense but not so unsmiling. Of course it's still fucking hot.
Old friends, old pain, parents, so much is the same, and so much is, forever changed.
I'm not hurting, at the moment, which is nice. The sand had begun to burn my feet in paradise. Here the asphalt is cool beneath my sneakers and the eyes are not so cruel and the suburban ghetto warriors seem sweet and engaging, (compared to the derelicts of Eden).
I'm looking forward once again, and I'm in my element. These people might not be stars but they are MY people and this place is OURS.
There is something shared here which was never captured in the transient flow and I don't know what to call it but it's better, that I know.
Everything and one I love is here, and it hurts because I feel it, so, close, and I want to be perfect all the time, but it's better than hating everyone and wanting just to hide.
So yeah, I'm glad to be home and there's no place like home and home is where the heart is and my heart is here; you know?