What if our entire universe is no more than a microbe on the ass of some being so big it's beyond our comprehension. Now right at this very second I would bet my last wooden nickel that when you read that sentence you tried to imagine the illusion I created, and that, perhaps, is my goal. To help people, through the use of words and thought, think about aspects of existence that perhaps they wouldn't have otherwise. If that's the case--if you tried to imagine the unimaginable--then good deal. Maybe I'm on the right track.
But here's the thing. The illusion I just created is unimaginable. Like I said: beyond our comprehension. So why even try? The only answer I have for that is it must be something in our nature to want to understand the bigger picture; the one that eludes even the most brilliant of minds on the planet. Will a time ever come when we, as human beings, ever understand the bigger picture? Does anyone really care? Will we ever know it if we do? And what's in those cup o' noodles things that look like vegetables?
No wonder I don't sleep at night.
Hee Haw
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Follow up.
So it's all about human nature and our purpose. Perhaps that's what I was implying in my last post. Nothing so much as a howdy doo from the great beyond. Yeah, this one we'll have to figure out on our own.
What's this got to do with the main function of this vessel of communication? Yeah, this blogging bullshit I started with the idea in mind that it would chronicle my journey as a writer. At this moment in time, I'm finding that journey is a lot longer and more treacherous than I had originally imagined. Cats scratching, dogs barking, bears grizzling, and several humans on the inside of the bubble laughing at the silly fools on the outside who are trying to penetrate their private club. Why, dear god, didn't I decide to become an electrician, or an HVAC specialist? Those guys are set. They don't have the angst us creative types live with every millisecond of every day wondering when the superiority of their intellect and their genius will finally pay off, and they get a pretty good paycheck to boot. It's enough to drive someone even more insane than they already are. Accurate to the point that insanity is certainly a prerequisite for an artist of any type - at least one that considers that what they do, they do because they have no choice. How many times have I told myself that my work is something valid and worthwhile whether or not its got any sort of mass appeal? I'll tell you: a whole bunch. Has it progressed my work any? Am I respected? Do I have a sense of purpose? You know what? Yeah, fuck it! Nobody likes me, nobody cares that I suffer for this shit, and probably will until I kick this flesh and bone shell to the curb and move on. Hopefully in the next life I'll come back as a plumber.
What's this got to do with the main function of this vessel of communication? Yeah, this blogging bullshit I started with the idea in mind that it would chronicle my journey as a writer. At this moment in time, I'm finding that journey is a lot longer and more treacherous than I had originally imagined. Cats scratching, dogs barking, bears grizzling, and several humans on the inside of the bubble laughing at the silly fools on the outside who are trying to penetrate their private club. Why, dear god, didn't I decide to become an electrician, or an HVAC specialist? Those guys are set. They don't have the angst us creative types live with every millisecond of every day wondering when the superiority of their intellect and their genius will finally pay off, and they get a pretty good paycheck to boot. It's enough to drive someone even more insane than they already are. Accurate to the point that insanity is certainly a prerequisite for an artist of any type - at least one that considers that what they do, they do because they have no choice. How many times have I told myself that my work is something valid and worthwhile whether or not its got any sort of mass appeal? I'll tell you: a whole bunch. Has it progressed my work any? Am I respected? Do I have a sense of purpose? You know what? Yeah, fuck it! Nobody likes me, nobody cares that I suffer for this shit, and probably will until I kick this flesh and bone shell to the curb and move on. Hopefully in the next life I'll come back as a plumber.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Hello it's Me...
I don't know why, then again there are a lot of things I don't know, but something brewing inside me spoke and told me to blog once again. Let's see here, it's been...well...it's been a long damn time since I posted a blog. It's a chore keeping this up, and I for one have enough chores on my table already. But when it comes down to it, if there's anything I feel essential to manage, among all the other trivial bullshit functioning humans are required to do on this god forsaken rock we're stuck on, it's my words. Words are king. I treat them like precious gems to be taken out and displayed with pride. Without words, we might as well be plants.
Okay. Enough said. Here's what's on my mind. Thanks to a co-worker of mine for bringing this up in discussion, the topic of people who feel entitled when it comes to wealth and authority. What separates those who are insanely successful from the larger segment of the population who are just as competent, but never seem to crack that bubble of prosperity? Is it a personality trait? Is it sheer drive and determination? Is it better organization (or organisation if you're from fucking England)? I've seen several examples that prove that people at the top of the game (notice I said 'the' game, not 'their game) are no more skilled, experienced, or intelligent than many others wallowing near the bottom of life's prosperity ladder. Managers running companies who don't have a freaking clue how to do their jobs, but who, for some reason, get the breaks when it comes to raises and promotions. Musicians, artists, and writers who have no more talent than the guy busking for spare change on the street with a beat up guitar. What creates this imbalance? Perhaps this is a question for the Universe, that this is some mystical plan that keeps the world spinning on its axis, a process that is simply too complex for the tiny pea-brained humanoid to comprehend.
Yeah, that's as good an explanation as any. Let's go with that. Thanks, I'll be sure to take that with me into the next life.
Hee Haw
Okay. Enough said. Here's what's on my mind. Thanks to a co-worker of mine for bringing this up in discussion, the topic of people who feel entitled when it comes to wealth and authority. What separates those who are insanely successful from the larger segment of the population who are just as competent, but never seem to crack that bubble of prosperity? Is it a personality trait? Is it sheer drive and determination? Is it better organization (or organisation if you're from fucking England)? I've seen several examples that prove that people at the top of the game (notice I said 'the' game, not 'their game) are no more skilled, experienced, or intelligent than many others wallowing near the bottom of life's prosperity ladder. Managers running companies who don't have a freaking clue how to do their jobs, but who, for some reason, get the breaks when it comes to raises and promotions. Musicians, artists, and writers who have no more talent than the guy busking for spare change on the street with a beat up guitar. What creates this imbalance? Perhaps this is a question for the Universe, that this is some mystical plan that keeps the world spinning on its axis, a process that is simply too complex for the tiny pea-brained humanoid to comprehend.
Yeah, that's as good an explanation as any. Let's go with that. Thanks, I'll be sure to take that with me into the next life.
Hee Haw
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