17 Days
ON THE ROAD LIKE KEROUAC. IN THE AIR LIKE NIJINSKY.
Am inspired when frends send messages like this.
I sit sometimes. In pure silence. Nothing but the sound of blood in eins providing soundtrack for the moment and during this time I think of ‘what really makes me feel good?’ It’s a loaded question with avenues that snake every which way but something that always comes up:
Being told I motivated, or simply inspired you a little to begin a creative endeavor, or go deeper in your artistic pursuits.These are the messages that provide fuel. [And the ones involving soft social chaos, or personal risk, or Black Sheep actions.]
This isn’t to paint myself as Holy Inspirer, that which Pushes Others To Action. It’s less. More humble and organic. I know the sensitivity of human motivation, I experience it everyday! How a single sentence, fleeting feeling, song lyric, physical touch can quickly ignite an idea that begs to be free, hopes to have you put it into the world.
I believe creating something to be an act of worship that all can benefit from.
Hesitancy to produce art seems a result of two outlooks:
High in practicality.
This type of person is rooted in Earth. It’s a good trait to have and many of friends walk this way. But it roadblocks creativity in the sense it makes it seem not worth it. This is understandable. The benefits of artistic expression are intangible. It’s not like the gym. It’s not as easy to see as muscles growing and toning, as fizeek ascends, it is much more metaphysical.
Fear of judgement. Should go without explanation but this is standing on the shoreline because you’re afraid of being made fun of for how you swim. Or afraid of drowning. Both, potential outcomes. Is easy conflict to see. Afraid of being embarrassed and at worse, afraid of not living up to what you think you can produce. This circles back like The Ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail. By doing, acting, diving into the possibility of getting lost in temporary creation, you’re completing an act of courage and self belief. The outcome, although it may fall short of what was in your head, will be rewarding in way that’s hard to capture with thought.
Kurt Vonnegut said it well in his letter back to a high school that reached out to him.
“Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces and discard them into widely seperated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learning a low more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow. God bless you all!”
Vonnegut, master of word, magician with language does incredible job of grabbing my thought and turning it into something easier to understand. So it goes…
Are you in the club?
With it simplified, hopefully it lands better. There is benefit from the expression of the soul. It doesn’t have to be public. It can be done in the safety of your room at night under lock and key and then burnt afterwards for protection. It isn’t supposed to be GOOD.
This is side effect of the ancient greek philosophy that creation is more ‘imitation of reality’ than it is ‘abstract representation of personal reality.’ They only gave poets the freedom to conjure from randomness. Their painters didn’t have this privilege. But you do and so do I.
Art, Creation is a craft. It’s yours to train and sweat over. At a certain point the well of raw talent empties and becomes barren wasteland. This is when effort, dedication to your craft starts. This is where style begins to shine through those layers of mud.
Rep after rep your own personal approach begins to crystalize. Nobody can take it from you. But nobody can reassure you it’s the right way. There has to be cohesion with your spirit, soul, and that which you put in the world. When you break away from the thought of being judged, you begin to see where you start.
Kanye, in Spaceship, says,
Y'all don't know my struggle
Y'all can't match my hustle
You can't catch my hustle
You can't fathom my love dude
Lock yourself in a room doin' five beats a day for three summers
That's a different world like three summers
I deserve to do these numbers
The kid that made that deserves that Maybach
So many records in my basement
I'm just waitin' on my spaceship, blaow
Some rap song has good message. That is example of that.
It takes minutes spent to even start being confident in your creations but this should never defalte your enthusiasm because as in all aspects regarding this life thing, it’s the journey that matters. The road to perfection, if a man were mad enough to believe such thing existed…
Now watch video of Nijinsky dancing below. This is what a madman chasing perfection in his craft looks like. Tearing through barriers that were thought to be cement. And…….
And! YES! YES! Although much to add, many many thoughts that roar to be expressed I must leave! As I’m writing this I have found myself behind the wheel of high speeding motor vehicle heading West! It’s absurd how life gives you lemonade before the lemons sometimes! Passenger seat muse, same blonde dragging me to “baja infused approach to modern American food” has informed me we have something around 328 miles left before the mountains. Many things to do. A few days of locking myself in cabin, scribbling. Now the music I queued, Punk Blues mixed with Lana Del Rey mixed with The Cure and The Smiths is coming to an end and I am in crucial need, yes, dire need of putting my life at risk so before speeding into a thick moon, a divine target to race towards I want to tell you to be more dangerous. and read Celebrating The Funeral. and create something.
Say something. I will read it allowed, into the mountains for the ghouls to hear!
Preorder of Celebrating The Funeral
(Join the substack, the deal there is worth it and ends Monday.)
WITH LOVE
WINSTON
SOULED IDEA
THE MAN WHO STOLE THE SUN
A MISFIT
