mattress wrote from this seat not long ago. something about a black dog. there is a man to the left indulging in a cigarette; next to him there is another indulging in a pint of ice cream. enraptured. on the right, there is a couple indulging in pictures of small nephews, or perhaps children of theirs, dressed lacily to the 9's. by all appearances, post-wedding photos. other than that, ahh, not too much going on in this particular spot. much foot traffic as per 21st street standards, especially on the most riotous of the weekend nights.
it strikes m that since he has a large open-air storefront directly behind himself, there are in all probability scores of youthful scenesters making their nightly rounds, seeing the backside of matches and silently scorning him. they see the trademark "b" for blogger website, cresting atop the left side of his illuminated screen, and this screen is as much his face for them as his actual might be were the directions in this scenario toggled and turned aroundways. he is at the moment a 'blogger'; much the worst sort by their standards since it is a friday night and surely only a person of irreparable social-ineptitude would be sipping caffeinateds by his lonesome and plugging away at these little black pieces of plastic laid out according to logic of some lost sort. to be fair, this is probably only half the people straying hither and thither....there are probably troops of linux-coders and chess-players and magic-dealers and all manner of cordial nerdiness to be found in the deep nooks of this particular cafe. the company is not so bad.
even so, it strikes him in a minor sort of pitch, this thought. he doesn't really consider himself a 'blogger', though by definition he supposes he is pinced into this category by the thorny walls of distinction; one thought must follow another. he tries not to cast into shallow pools, and certainly he hopes that anonymous reader is gleaning more of his thoughts, his mind, rather than his day-to-day excitements and uneventfuls. they are probably, in practice, difficult to extract completely from one another. like a duality of hot and cold, what would a mind be without everydays to complement it. what would a mind be without days and hours to contain it, to teach it, to age it into its peak season of consumption, of expression? if you know the answer to that, or even think that you may have a hint of it, then you should probably start writing yourself. there is a world full of eager ears aching for soothsaying.
he is a writer, not a *blogger*. but to blog is to write, is it not? k, perhaps one can post pictures, and video. that aside, blogging is not so much different from conversation with a friend. wouldn't we be remiss not to record it in some way (doesn't our memory serve that fine and excruciating function)? so this is the rub; people think that conversation is different than writing. it isn't. perhaps admittedly in minor ways but, really they are pre-defined by the same rules and boundaries (for the most part). they are both a constant hashing-out, a formless fluxuation which wavers back and forth on anchors we would refer to as topics. they are both clouded by common knowledge and occasionally, alternately, electrified with personality...the trick is to get into something which bypasses the conventional and wanders wayward into the personal, the mysterious, the intriguing. then you put it out there, and maybe it becomes the convention. a vicious cycle to be sure.
it's different in one way. a conversation with yourself; you would think it would be predictable. it isn't. but the difference is that it is very rare to stump yourself. one can think their way into corners, certainly, but in general the way out is only a slight turn from the last known good thought. kind of like computer back-up in that sense (or so you would think....curse you miscrosoft). writing feels more like a gradual stretching of the mind's boundaries, or an electrical obstacle-course attempting to link different areas. sometimes when talking to a different person, especially one not well known, there will be complicating factors. missing reference points, drastic jumps in theory, biological hurdles (attraction and flirtation to be dealt with), misfirings in communication, etc etc. the list, is quite a list. but the point is that there are certainly merits to both. thinking your own way through something is a great, helpful, memorable accomplishment. trading ideas with someone else has the potential to expand a mind more quickly, but it will be a sharp spike as opposed to a gradual painting, radiating strokes outward towards the accomplishment. there will be a lot of unfilled territory trailing behind the epiphany; a lot of hollow ground that it will likely sink back into. a transition, a mental change effected by a single person in communication with himself, is more likely to find a stable architecture....if it can attain those same heights. sometimes one must look outside of themselves for that inspiration which lifts highest.
no way. a yellow lab has just been chained in precisely the place that the black lab was on the night whenever ago. that has to be a stopping point to revel in~
here is a pic to commemorate matches' long hair, which ended today.
happy weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment