Wow. So much for keeping a consistent blog. Life got in the way as it so often does, but I realized, perhaps more importantly, that I will not be able to function at my highest potential if I do not cultivate and maintain my creative sparks. I was going to write seeds but was reminded of a time I described part of my print with the word bush in printmaking class (at a liberal arts college, shocker) and all the guys laughed their asses off. So apparently I happen to use terms that often remind people of sexual innuendos, but I suppose there are worse things in the world.
Anyways, more to the point, I am renewing my dedication to small but steady steps in the direction of creative progress. So I shall attempt to use this blog for the miscellaneous, extraneous whoha thoughts that are bouncing around in my brain. And today’s revolves around the song, Young Fathers by Typhoon
I was born in September
And like everything else, I can’t remember
I replaced it with scenes from a film that I will never know
And I blinked, it was over
I was thinking my life would get slower
That I would sort this shit out when I’m sober
I love the opening verse, and although certainly there are a myriad of ways to interpret it, I chose to take it that he formed a memory he didn’t actually have from something he saw somewhere but never actually experienced. It’s great, you put effort into constructing something that you don’t actually know or value and then while you’re busy building and constructing that, whether it’s an image or a persona, suddenly the unique opportunities available to you only in that specific point in your life wherever you are geographically and economically and ecumenically speaking, disappear. And that’s what happened, I thought I would go through college and feel more like I was on that oft named, rarely found “right path”, but instead I seem to have found myself in a habitat where paths do not exist. I’m using too many metaphors, but the point is, I thought I would sort out my life not when I was sober but when I was more educated and well-rounded after having passed through a rigorous liberal arts training. But nothing is necessarily more sorted, I’m just simply for creative about the ways that I express my uncertainty about the future. I find comfort in typing words into the eternal black hole that is the internet. And maybe I’ll glean some insight from them or from having written them, at some point. But now is not that point. As the song says later, “Young people get bored everyday”, almost like a medical statistic. And that really grabs me, you know, the idea that boredom is an illness. It is. Because if you wake up one day and no longer find that the world surprises your or has the capacity to make feel things you never thought you would be able to feel, that is surely the sign of a serious illness.