Arriving in Paris was a shitstorm. I may have forgotten to mention that while I was in London, they decided to have a rail-strike which made traveling around the city somewhat difficult for the last two days that I was there. The train to Paris was still running luckily, but aside from that, not much. Fast forward to Paris....I arrive and the exact same thing is going on here. Basically on the same days, just pushed out perfectly to fuck with me the maximum amount. I tried to laugh about it at first, but then it became less and less funny when all the hostels and hotels within a kilometer of the rail station had either been booked up by people screwed over waiting for their trains, or other usual travelers such as myself who arrived early enough to score them. After a very frustrating march around Montmartre looking for a spot to sleep, I returned to the train station resolute to just sleep there, but even that is not allowed apparently as there is not much space for it.
So, I went nearby and started asking around about places to stay, finally hearing about a little youth hostel by the Louvre which had rooms available. It was over a mile away and already 11:30 PM, but fuck it, I said to myself, I'm going to walk there with the backpack and all. That went decently enough for about ten minutes, until it started to rain, and then soon after started to pour. I hate blowing money unnecessarily, but at this point I hailed a taxi to get to the spot. The driver spoke not one word of English, which was fantastic for me, as you can imagine. Also, taxi drivers in Paris? Extremely slow.
Eventually I made it to the hostel and calmed down enough to relax and fall asleep. The next day I woke up and met a few good people in the hostel...Santiago, from Argentina, and Vout, a professional-caliber pole-vaulter and track-and-field athlete from Holland. These guys were awesome, and conveniently had not yet done much in the city. We embarked first to a cemetery which Vout's father had told him to visit, the 'Cimitiere du Pere Lachaise', which was, at least as far into the Paris stay as I am currently, the coolest thing I have done here. It was ridiculously mind-blowing. First off, it is devastatingly huge. Secondly, every grave and tomb is an absolute piece of art, and about half or more are gigantic. I have somewhere on the order of 50 pictures just from the time we spent there. Lastly, there are a whole host of famous people buried there. We did not figure this out until we stumbled upon Chopin's grave, which was basically covered in fresh-cut flowers from all of his adoring contemporary fans. Later we found a map and sought out the graves of Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, and Marcel Proust. Obviously I was the one making the calls on which ones we saw~
Then we hopped on a bus and rolled out across the city, seeing a bunch of landmarks just from the windows there. We got out at the Eiffel Tower, and walked all over from there, basically all the way back to our hostel by the Louvre. We saw many huge buildings with amazing architecture, as well as the Arc de Triomphe, Napoleon's Tomb, the Grand and Petite Palais(es?), and Champs Elysees (basically a street, but it has a lot of cred around here for tourists). When we got back to the hostel we relaxed a bit and then went out for food and debauchery, roping in some girls and guys as we went, and had a blast on the town although much of it was spent wandering around on drunken goose-chases for trendy bars which may or may not have existed. Overall a great time.
Today is now the next day, and I've done some stuff, but I'd rather stop writing for now and recharge a bit. Will upload some photos from this section when I get more moments. Also, these entries are going to be extremely sporadic because I am having extreme difficulty with internets out here....most places charge for it, and even when I find a free network the EeePC has serious problems when it comes to connecting. I hope this changes in the next few countries.
Au revoir~
Monsoir Mautchez
September 9, 2010
More of London
Well, how about an update on how the rest of London went? Let me start at the beginning. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is marrying Humperdink in about chalf an hour.
To begin with, my entrance into London was somewhat remarkable, as I thought that they might throw me out the proverbial gates and send me back home without a trip under my belt. When I got in line for customs or entrance or whatever you call the passport check, I was directed to a man who would be best described as somewhere in the spectrum between mildly upset and downright surly. It was as though someone ran over his beloved dog the night before.
When I got up to the window he began drilling me with questions, most of which I had no legitimate answer for. Mind you, it is his job to look out for suspicious behavior; I don't believe that I was acting suspiciously in the least. My usual chipper self after a red-eye flight, which took some effort. He asked me where I was staying since I hadn't written it in on the card. I told him that I didn't know yet; my friends were out of town and I hadn't felt comfortable booking a hostel sight-unseen, since I knew of a few that were in the same general area. Agent did not like this. Then he asked me for proof that I was leaving his country sometime soon (what a jerk), and I told him that I was flying back from Madrid but that I didn't have a hard copy of the ticket on my person. Agent did not like this. I told him that I was taking the Eurostar to France in less than a week, which I also had not yet booked. Apparently I am a shadow with no evidence. They do not like this.
He also asked me a barrage of other uncomfortable questions, such as how much hard currency I had on me ($30 US), and how much was in the checking account which I was planning on accessing from ATM's, as well as whether or not I had any proof of the reported sum. Agent did not like that I had none of this. But, in the end, my charming demeanor won out and he let me into England with a bit of a lecture.
Jerk.
After that minor hiccup, things went much more smoothly. I found a great hostel, met some cool people from South Africa and Australia, and then proceeded to do a variety of things that normal tourists go do, and some that they do not. I visited the British Museum, which was amazing. They have the Rosetta Stone, etc, and some of the most detail-oriented recovered art and metalwork which I have ever borne witness to. I walked along some good areas: Trafalgar Sq (where I stumbled upon a very unlikely poker-event where I got to play a few free games for prizes), Piccadilly Circus (no lions or bears, just breakdancers), Hyde Park (Speaker's Corner has been bastardized and was a huge letdown, but the park is beautiful), and Camden Market which was an amazing collection of people and booths/stables/stores selling just about any item or food which you could desire.....imagine all the open-air markets in Oregon and Washington all smashed into one area~
I also went to the Science Museum, which for how general a name it has was quite good. They have a great interactive psychology exhibit which was mentally accessible and challenging for both 5-year olds and 27-year olds. I don't know where to put the hyphen when I type ages. Additionally I met up with my South African friends at the Tate Modern (art museum), which was just about the most spectacular art museum I have witnessed. They have loads of amazing surrealistic and progressive art that I had never seen before, even in photos. It was a crash-course in a whole movement of painting and sculpture. Nearby I went to the Globe Theatre (Shakespeare y'all), but refused to pay seventeen pounds to tour it's meager interior regions. Ah well.
Lastly I met up with Will and Ilana when they got back from Paris, and took a train out to Birmingham (pronounced birmin-gum) with them, which is where Will lives now while working at Oxford. I wrestled with the iPhone issue for awhile and probably just made it worse (might not even work when I get back to the states, now...), but then we went and got some astoundingly-delicious curry at an Indian restaurant close-by their art-deco apartment. We also grabbed a pint at a quaint local pub which looked more like an tea-shop than a bar...it looks like they have a good neighborhood. We played some games, and Will, who is a gentleman and a scholar, did me the favor of lending me his iPod and a phone which can make use of the SIM card which I bought. Thanks dude; they have been a big help.
Etc, etc; then I went to Paris which is where I write this from. I'll save that whole thing for another entry. Photos you ask? Why yes, I did take a few hundred. I might try to upload later but for now, it is le hassle.
To begin with, my entrance into London was somewhat remarkable, as I thought that they might throw me out the proverbial gates and send me back home without a trip under my belt. When I got in line for customs or entrance or whatever you call the passport check, I was directed to a man who would be best described as somewhere in the spectrum between mildly upset and downright surly. It was as though someone ran over his beloved dog the night before.
When I got up to the window he began drilling me with questions, most of which I had no legitimate answer for. Mind you, it is his job to look out for suspicious behavior; I don't believe that I was acting suspiciously in the least. My usual chipper self after a red-eye flight, which took some effort. He asked me where I was staying since I hadn't written it in on the card. I told him that I didn't know yet; my friends were out of town and I hadn't felt comfortable booking a hostel sight-unseen, since I knew of a few that were in the same general area. Agent did not like this. Then he asked me for proof that I was leaving his country sometime soon (what a jerk), and I told him that I was flying back from Madrid but that I didn't have a hard copy of the ticket on my person. Agent did not like this. I told him that I was taking the Eurostar to France in less than a week, which I also had not yet booked. Apparently I am a shadow with no evidence. They do not like this.
He also asked me a barrage of other uncomfortable questions, such as how much hard currency I had on me ($30 US), and how much was in the checking account which I was planning on accessing from ATM's, as well as whether or not I had any proof of the reported sum. Agent did not like that I had none of this. But, in the end, my charming demeanor won out and he let me into England with a bit of a lecture.
Jerk.
After that minor hiccup, things went much more smoothly. I found a great hostel, met some cool people from South Africa and Australia, and then proceeded to do a variety of things that normal tourists go do, and some that they do not. I visited the British Museum, which was amazing. They have the Rosetta Stone, etc, and some of the most detail-oriented recovered art and metalwork which I have ever borne witness to. I walked along some good areas: Trafalgar Sq (where I stumbled upon a very unlikely poker-event where I got to play a few free games for prizes), Piccadilly Circus (no lions or bears, just breakdancers), Hyde Park (Speaker's Corner has been bastardized and was a huge letdown, but the park is beautiful), and Camden Market which was an amazing collection of people and booths/stables/stores selling just about any item or food which you could desire.....imagine all the open-air markets in Oregon and Washington all smashed into one area~
I also went to the Science Museum, which for how general a name it has was quite good. They have a great interactive psychology exhibit which was mentally accessible and challenging for both 5-year olds and 27-year olds. I don't know where to put the hyphen when I type ages. Additionally I met up with my South African friends at the Tate Modern (art museum), which was just about the most spectacular art museum I have witnessed. They have loads of amazing surrealistic and progressive art that I had never seen before, even in photos. It was a crash-course in a whole movement of painting and sculpture. Nearby I went to the Globe Theatre (Shakespeare y'all), but refused to pay seventeen pounds to tour it's meager interior regions. Ah well.
Lastly I met up with Will and Ilana when they got back from Paris, and took a train out to Birmingham (pronounced birmin-gum) with them, which is where Will lives now while working at Oxford. I wrestled with the iPhone issue for awhile and probably just made it worse (might not even work when I get back to the states, now...), but then we went and got some astoundingly-delicious curry at an Indian restaurant close-by their art-deco apartment. We also grabbed a pint at a quaint local pub which looked more like an tea-shop than a bar...it looks like they have a good neighborhood. We played some games, and Will, who is a gentleman and a scholar, did me the favor of lending me his iPod and a phone which can make use of the SIM card which I bought. Thanks dude; they have been a big help.
Etc, etc; then I went to Paris which is where I write this from. I'll save that whole thing for another entry. Photos you ask? Why yes, I did take a few hundred. I might try to upload later but for now, it is le hassle.
September 6, 2010
9/3/10 - London
It is ridiculous how discombobulated one becomes while traveling. You never really feel 'on top' of your game, because the ground is shifting underneath you so often and you have vastly fewer resources at your disposal. It's difficult to feel 100% at a bar when you've been wearing the same clothes for the past two days, your hair is wind-tossed, and you haven't really cleaned yourself up for some hours because you've been on the go from place to place (none of them home) and all the bathrooms in the progressive country which you are in have adopted air hand-dryers - which sound like planes taking off - instead of paper towels. I never really have any privacy, either, which is annoying. I'm always feeling rushed when doing things that need done...checking the internet on the hostel computers, taking showers, using the sink in the room to brush teeth, shave, etc. Having other people around ALL the time is really a pain.
On top of that, perhaps the phone which you've taken with you and which used to work with your old SIM card in America has decided to reject the new one you've gotten for international calls, and reject it so HARD that it crashes and leaves you unable to use any of the functions which it used to perform, including being your sole source of all the music which you love and were planning on listening to in various exotic scenarios. You'd probably know how to fix it if you had your laptop here, but instead you have a little plastic one which is running an extremely obscure operating system which you haven't even come close to figuring out (I seriously can't even find a readout of how much battery is left, which is really important information to have), and which also coincidentally refuses to connect to any wi-fi networks which you instruct it to.
So that's where my day is at so far. I decided to be less upset and just take the subway to the Science Museum, which, for being as general of a museum name as possible, was actually quite well executed. Interactivity + Science = Success, at least in the museum world. The Exploratorium in SF knows what I'm talking about. Also, all the museums here are as free as watching the dingy-coloured (spelling what? it's correct here) birds which amble all over the sidewalks, so that's a nice touch. Actually, for having as expensive of a reputation as London does, I think I am doing quite well on expenditures here. 16 pounds a night for the hostel bed, and beyond that maybe 10 or 15 a day for food so far, plus 7 for transportation. Well, I thought I was doing well until I did the math on the currency conversion just now. Regardless, I'm spending significantly less than I did in New York (I think). I haven't really been drinking here, though, so I imagine that the probability of the damage approaching critical hit levels is high if I begin doing that. Luckily I have a saving throw for having a bunch of writing to accomplish.
Science Museum
On the positive side as well, my worst-snoring-from-a-roommate-ever hostel experience had me lying awake in bed for a little while, and I came up with some good progress (in my head) on my writing project. I feel like I haven't devoted practically any time to it at all so far, being busy with sightseeing and meeting people and eating, etc.
So, lately has been a series of mixed emotions about things...HOWEVER even with all this said I am still swinging with a +3 bonus on account of being in a new city, a new country, and being exposed to all the refreshing differences on large and small scales. Hopefully as I get more accustomed to being a traveler I will either develop techniques which will eliminate a lot of these discomforts, or I will just get used to them and consider them necessary evils. Although, it is TOTALLY not necessary for my iPhone to have bricked. Come on travel gods.
Oh, also, I missed my hostel's included breakfast because I don't have an alarm on account of the phone thing, but I got This instead:
Nomz.
On top of that, perhaps the phone which you've taken with you and which used to work with your old SIM card in America has decided to reject the new one you've gotten for international calls, and reject it so HARD that it crashes and leaves you unable to use any of the functions which it used to perform, including being your sole source of all the music which you love and were planning on listening to in various exotic scenarios. You'd probably know how to fix it if you had your laptop here, but instead you have a little plastic one which is running an extremely obscure operating system which you haven't even come close to figuring out (I seriously can't even find a readout of how much battery is left, which is really important information to have), and which also coincidentally refuses to connect to any wi-fi networks which you instruct it to.
So that's where my day is at so far. I decided to be less upset and just take the subway to the Science Museum, which, for being as general of a museum name as possible, was actually quite well executed. Interactivity + Science = Success, at least in the museum world. The Exploratorium in SF knows what I'm talking about. Also, all the museums here are as free as watching the dingy-coloured (spelling what? it's correct here) birds which amble all over the sidewalks, so that's a nice touch. Actually, for having as expensive of a reputation as London does, I think I am doing quite well on expenditures here. 16 pounds a night for the hostel bed, and beyond that maybe 10 or 15 a day for food so far, plus 7 for transportation. Well, I thought I was doing well until I did the math on the currency conversion just now. Regardless, I'm spending significantly less than I did in New York (I think). I haven't really been drinking here, though, so I imagine that the probability of the damage approaching critical hit levels is high if I begin doing that. Luckily I have a saving throw for having a bunch of writing to accomplish.
Science Museum
On the positive side as well, my worst-snoring-from-a-roommate-ever hostel experience had me lying awake in bed for a little while, and I came up with some good progress (in my head) on my writing project. I feel like I haven't devoted practically any time to it at all so far, being busy with sightseeing and meeting people and eating, etc.
So, lately has been a series of mixed emotions about things...HOWEVER even with all this said I am still swinging with a +3 bonus on account of being in a new city, a new country, and being exposed to all the refreshing differences on large and small scales. Hopefully as I get more accustomed to being a traveler I will either develop techniques which will eliminate a lot of these discomforts, or I will just get used to them and consider them necessary evils. Although, it is TOTALLY not necessary for my iPhone to have bricked. Come on travel gods.
Oh, also, I missed my hostel's included breakfast because I don't have an alarm on account of the phone thing, but I got This instead:
Nomz.
July 24, 2010
Dissolve
I am sitting at the Rocking Frog, knowing that I should sit here and write yet desirous (after listening again to the Tai Chi interview) of moving my body throughout the world, just to experience the connection with my motions and explore my awareness of them on various levels. Also, however, I begin to realize, to have dawn upon me, the importance of sitting still. When motionless, your body has less to focus on, and the movements of your mind become more accessible to you. The tendrils of thought, reaching out and feeling/filtering the world and your experience of it. I say not that static is necessary for attainment of mind-presence, but that meditative thought can be a tool to help you acknowledge which directions your mind gravitates towards, and how forcefully or stubbornly it travels. This can also be the state for slight adjustments, using your presence within this usually-shrouded process to tweak your own neural pathways and reactions.
Additionally, this helps me to grasp something which I have had some curiosity about for some time now, which is ritual motions and sounds. Beta waves, caressing the brain; tribal chants, unlocking depths of perception; walking and running meditations, pacing your thoughts differently than they might have drummed upon you before. These are all....unusual...for lack of a better. They, like drugs, remove you from the stagnant tar-pits of routine into which we all sink for majorities of our time. Challenging the mind...taking it out of expectation – from solid ground to quicksand. When you are displaced, you must think on your feet....and what better way to prepare for any possible future than displacing yourself as much as possible, adapting to all terrains?
Something about a tribal chant...removing the individual from himself, removing accountability and identity, unshackling from the body and expanding into the far-reaching pulses of sound, and beyond them even the silent world. When one's self is already dissolved into sound, you see, a significant portion of the bridge between self and nothingness has already been traversed. Can you imagine what that is like? What a liberating, frightening experience that must be?
Hopefully we all experience something so liberating, by degrees, in our own lifetimes. But with society as fractured as it currently is, I find it hard to believe that we could experience it with the same authenticity as a tribe might have. Being a part of that movement, of that sound-generation, in which the barriers between individuals completely dissipate and you become a singular unity...I can't for the life of me imagine what that would be like. I want to.
Additionally, this helps me to grasp something which I have had some curiosity about for some time now, which is ritual motions and sounds. Beta waves, caressing the brain; tribal chants, unlocking depths of perception; walking and running meditations, pacing your thoughts differently than they might have drummed upon you before. These are all....unusual...for lack of a better. They, like drugs, remove you from the stagnant tar-pits of routine into which we all sink for majorities of our time. Challenging the mind...taking it out of expectation – from solid ground to quicksand. When you are displaced, you must think on your feet....and what better way to prepare for any possible future than displacing yourself as much as possible, adapting to all terrains?
Something about a tribal chant...removing the individual from himself, removing accountability and identity, unshackling from the body and expanding into the far-reaching pulses of sound, and beyond them even the silent world. When one's self is already dissolved into sound, you see, a significant portion of the bridge between self and nothingness has already been traversed. Can you imagine what that is like? What a liberating, frightening experience that must be?
Hopefully we all experience something so liberating, by degrees, in our own lifetimes. But with society as fractured as it currently is, I find it hard to believe that we could experience it with the same authenticity as a tribe might have. Being a part of that movement, of that sound-generation, in which the barriers between individuals completely dissipate and you become a singular unity...I can't for the life of me imagine what that would be like. I want to.
July 14, 2010
Neutral Jing
What has been on my mind lately? I've become so distanced from the process of writing...I used to have such a reign of what my mind was processing from day to day, recording, remembering. But now, on the brink of this trip, I feel like I have been exercising the privileges of being social, blowing off my own creative work in an effort to spend time with people before leaving them for an indeterminate portion of time. I'm having thoughts, certainly, but somehow they become shattered by the frantic schedule I'm keeping...not having a good sit to sift through them, they become so pummeled by the constant flood of sensations that they are unrecognizable when I come back around to thinking about them, and I forget where I might have left off. What I was headed toward. What emotions I was spun up in when I first pioneered them. Without vigilance regarding these things, it becomes very difficult to trace a thread throughout one's thoughts...to keep a procession, instead of slipping in rank. I follow my thoughts from A to G, but then distance myself from them for a time. When I come back to them, I have a vague semblance of what G might have entailed, but it loses all context and meaning if I don't have the foundations of E and F still firm underneath it. Thus I regress back beyond the last achievement, resting perhaps at C, and must push forth again towards the distances. In the meantime, though, all my motivations have changed, and the G which I may reach is distinctly different from the G which I previously excavated. A troubling business, this 'thought'.
Overall, I'm pleased with how whimsical the world and my mind are when they orbit one another. Things come up which I could not have foreseen; any moment can occasion an explosion of personality or philosophy. It is bothersome, however, to acknowledge that I have no idea what a particular trigger might be or look like. There are such moments when I am caught up in a social circle, and something strikes offhanded, some flash or coincidence on my peripheral vision. I thoughtlessly acknowledge it, but being social requires a constant 'group' presence, a mask, and in pursuit of this I abandon the distinct subjectivity of such glimmers. I may club and drag them back to my tribe, but in doing so I alter them differently than if I were to be alone observing them...I turn them on their head for comedic effect, I dilute them for the masses and exploit some simplicity of what might have been a great concept had I pursued it on my own or in the company of genuine discourse. Occasionally I feel the charlatanry of this process, and I feel somewhat shamed, diminished by it.
Lately I have been running in packs. This is an oddity for me...I'm used to being around a single other person, or perhaps two. The dynamics of these situations are notably dintinct...the broachable topics being drastically different in varying degrees of severity. With a lone companion, one can talk about anything one wants...still the topic will find itself fair game. It may be shot down, evaded for the purposes of comfort, but it will at least find attention and acknowledgment. I miss having an intelligent girlfriend. It's too hard to bring such things up in group discussion, or especially in party-scenarios where one must constantly keep pace with the fluid dance of many partners, many conversations which ideally should be so simple (yet clever!) that others can easily drift in and out of them at their moment's pleasure. I've never been tops at this simplistic cleverness. I am somewhat in awe of those who are~ I lack those razor-sharp, caustic, fervent tendencies...I gravitate, generate, slowly roll into presence like a timpani. I'm beginning to think it has to do with different dispersals of energy...separate and chosen (if unconsciously) types of expression. I am learning from these quick-witted types; I can switch this on if I need to. It feels inauthentic, to me, and I doubt that I could keep it up for long stretches....this conversational sprint. But it is there, a tool at my disposal, and I notice how it alters situations, how it commands. I feel the heat and the power of this clearly incendiary technique. I could not burn like this for long - my hourglass turns - I require respite, shelter. I am mostly sorcerer, but augmented with warrior tendencies at my reserve.
Overall, I'm pleased with how whimsical the world and my mind are when they orbit one another. Things come up which I could not have foreseen; any moment can occasion an explosion of personality or philosophy. It is bothersome, however, to acknowledge that I have no idea what a particular trigger might be or look like. There are such moments when I am caught up in a social circle, and something strikes offhanded, some flash or coincidence on my peripheral vision. I thoughtlessly acknowledge it, but being social requires a constant 'group' presence, a mask, and in pursuit of this I abandon the distinct subjectivity of such glimmers. I may club and drag them back to my tribe, but in doing so I alter them differently than if I were to be alone observing them...I turn them on their head for comedic effect, I dilute them for the masses and exploit some simplicity of what might have been a great concept had I pursued it on my own or in the company of genuine discourse. Occasionally I feel the charlatanry of this process, and I feel somewhat shamed, diminished by it.
Lately I have been running in packs. This is an oddity for me...I'm used to being around a single other person, or perhaps two. The dynamics of these situations are notably dintinct...the broachable topics being drastically different in varying degrees of severity. With a lone companion, one can talk about anything one wants...still the topic will find itself fair game. It may be shot down, evaded for the purposes of comfort, but it will at least find attention and acknowledgment. I miss having an intelligent girlfriend. It's too hard to bring such things up in group discussion, or especially in party-scenarios where one must constantly keep pace with the fluid dance of many partners, many conversations which ideally should be so simple (yet clever!) that others can easily drift in and out of them at their moment's pleasure. I've never been tops at this simplistic cleverness. I am somewhat in awe of those who are~ I lack those razor-sharp, caustic, fervent tendencies...I gravitate, generate, slowly roll into presence like a timpani. I'm beginning to think it has to do with different dispersals of energy...separate and chosen (if unconsciously) types of expression. I am learning from these quick-witted types; I can switch this on if I need to. It feels inauthentic, to me, and I doubt that I could keep it up for long stretches....this conversational sprint. But it is there, a tool at my disposal, and I notice how it alters situations, how it commands. I feel the heat and the power of this clearly incendiary technique. I could not burn like this for long - my hourglass turns - I require respite, shelter. I am mostly sorcerer, but augmented with warrior tendencies at my reserve.
June 26, 2010
Some Things I am Excited About
I may not have updated everyone recently...I am quitting the job and traveling for an indeterminate period of time. Holy shit, right? Before you go and worry yourselves, this has been a long time coming...if you've read anything that I've written here, or know me as a person in general, you probably have the sense that 'jobs' and I do not get along in the most idyllic form of camaraderie. We just don't see eye to eye. I dislike being lorded over and told specifically what to do with my time, and they dislike being disobeyed and made a secondary priority amidst the many facets of any given life. Yobs are supposed to be function, to be purpose! Why does Matt dislike us so?
I don't feel the need to explain myself, because I feel that 80% of my friends are sympathetic, working jobs such that they can survive comfortably as opposed to harshly, garnering responsibility...everything we are instructed to revere. At any rate, I find myself excited to take a portion of time off, to stir my life around and agitate the potencies which have settled and lie dormant at present. This is one of my focii as I bound about - to figure out a better mode of life, of reasoning which still supports me but which compromises less of my being and my intended existence/expression in the meantime. This is a monstrous task, but it also has the charm of being an enjoyable one....juggling possible extensions and iterations of myself, finding one which I am most comfortable with but which also allows a more thorough and justified presence of mind, streaming the incantations which I desire most to express.
To travel: here I come. After much deliberation (months) and funding (years) and waiting (decades), I have settled upon a position of "fuck it" regarding my finances as they stand now, and purposefully select the option wherein I discharge all my hard currency into Europe's disastrous economic situation in an effort to bolster it in my own meager way. Also, this will include me receiving many places to stay and transportation to and fro and delicacies heretofore unknown by my domestic palate. Kind of a perk, right? Just doing my best to help out the economy.
Travels as planned: ~3 months. New York, England, France, Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, Italy, Spain. Bouncing here and there, with the exception of Italy which will be a 3 or 4-week stint (more on this in a second). Finally the excitement is eclipsing the nervousness, and I feel like my mind will have entire worlds and perspectives to absorb, and hopefully an equal or greater amount to output based on this input. That's right; much of this is an artistic journey, with the aim of exploding my mind into a million pieces, energy which I hope to use to construct many a work of fiction. Also, there will be sightseeing and friendship-forging and exploration of offbeat paths.
Italy. I am staying at a monastery here for 4 weeks. This will be wonderful, and ideally will give me respite and an opportunity to construct the better portions of a book which I have been playing with ideas of for the last half-year or so. I will have to do a fair amount of work at the monastery, but I feel confident that being in such an atmosphere will allow me to reign in my focus and spend time on my own endeavors. It is, after all, an Art Monastery, basically sieged by paperwork and taken over by a venerable community of artists and flipped into a bed-and-breakfast to pay the bills. There should be other artists of all concentrations working and living there as well, so it will hopefully be an incredibly nourishing and replenishing experience. One point of curiosity is that I will not have a laptop, or at least as presently planned I will not. I've never written anything significant without one; the ability to Ctrl-F and save as different files and research via the internet is always something which I have taken for granted. So, this will be a difficulty which needs to be overcome. Pen and paper are something which I have not tangled with in a long time. One reason I write on a computer is that the keyboard allows me faster documentation of my thoughts, and with my brain behind the stream, that is a very good thing. I'll have to slow my processes down when I'm writing on paper, but hopefully that will be more helpful than hindrance. I imagine my individual thoughts will be more fleshed-out, but I am somewhat worried about losing track of where I was going with the larger themes racing through my head while scribbling away at the minor details. Ah well. I'm sure it will work, one way or another.
Let me know if you'd like me to send you a postcard from somewhere~
I don't feel the need to explain myself, because I feel that 80% of my friends are sympathetic, working jobs such that they can survive comfortably as opposed to harshly, garnering responsibility...everything we are instructed to revere. At any rate, I find myself excited to take a portion of time off, to stir my life around and agitate the potencies which have settled and lie dormant at present. This is one of my focii as I bound about - to figure out a better mode of life, of reasoning which still supports me but which compromises less of my being and my intended existence/expression in the meantime. This is a monstrous task, but it also has the charm of being an enjoyable one....juggling possible extensions and iterations of myself, finding one which I am most comfortable with but which also allows a more thorough and justified presence of mind, streaming the incantations which I desire most to express.
To travel: here I come. After much deliberation (months) and funding (years) and waiting (decades), I have settled upon a position of "fuck it" regarding my finances as they stand now, and purposefully select the option wherein I discharge all my hard currency into Europe's disastrous economic situation in an effort to bolster it in my own meager way. Also, this will include me receiving many places to stay and transportation to and fro and delicacies heretofore unknown by my domestic palate. Kind of a perk, right? Just doing my best to help out the economy.
Travels as planned: ~3 months. New York, England, France, Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, Italy, Spain. Bouncing here and there, with the exception of Italy which will be a 3 or 4-week stint (more on this in a second). Finally the excitement is eclipsing the nervousness, and I feel like my mind will have entire worlds and perspectives to absorb, and hopefully an equal or greater amount to output based on this input. That's right; much of this is an artistic journey, with the aim of exploding my mind into a million pieces, energy which I hope to use to construct many a work of fiction. Also, there will be sightseeing and friendship-forging and exploration of offbeat paths.
Italy. I am staying at a monastery here for 4 weeks. This will be wonderful, and ideally will give me respite and an opportunity to construct the better portions of a book which I have been playing with ideas of for the last half-year or so. I will have to do a fair amount of work at the monastery, but I feel confident that being in such an atmosphere will allow me to reign in my focus and spend time on my own endeavors. It is, after all, an Art Monastery, basically sieged by paperwork and taken over by a venerable community of artists and flipped into a bed-and-breakfast to pay the bills. There should be other artists of all concentrations working and living there as well, so it will hopefully be an incredibly nourishing and replenishing experience. One point of curiosity is that I will not have a laptop, or at least as presently planned I will not. I've never written anything significant without one; the ability to Ctrl-F and save as different files and research via the internet is always something which I have taken for granted. So, this will be a difficulty which needs to be overcome. Pen and paper are something which I have not tangled with in a long time. One reason I write on a computer is that the keyboard allows me faster documentation of my thoughts, and with my brain behind the stream, that is a very good thing. I'll have to slow my processes down when I'm writing on paper, but hopefully that will be more helpful than hindrance. I imagine my individual thoughts will be more fleshed-out, but I am somewhat worried about losing track of where I was going with the larger themes racing through my head while scribbling away at the minor details. Ah well. I'm sure it will work, one way or another.
Let me know if you'd like me to send you a postcard from somewhere~
March 25, 2010
3/25
3/25
how is it that i had coffee this morning, and now my brain decides to go sluggish on me? must be the whiskey. best guess. one would think that the tea here, oolong, would do the job. yet, no. not at all.
where is the merit in appreciation? here i find myself next to a flurry of quick-witted people. i'm not in the mood, myself...not hardly. but since this happens from time to time, i find it worth noting....and the question has popped up in other manifestations, most notably writing and music. art.
what value is there to be found in mere appreciation, aside from production?
must an appreciator tend towards production at some point? or it it enough simply to enjoy, to have no ambitions in particular for themselves? when i started listening to music, when i started reading what i consider to be decent literature, it came about for me that i began to want to produce it, to spin my own wheels and find expression. now, since i am at the point of scribbling here about it, it seems clear that it is becoming ever more important for me.
as i sit here and hear these people, i realize....there is a fine line between well-placed witticisms and obnoxious overstatements, both in word and in personality. there is no accounting for taste, and some people speak because they have to say something, rather than because they have something to say. maybe a little too harsh. at least these kids are eloquent with their wordings....intelligence is denoted, sometimes too enthusiastically but, who is to say what is too much?
the point remains. what becomes of me, of my mind, of my legacy, if i never produce that which i appreciate? doesn't appreciation require an aptitude for the subject matter, and enough of one to be able to separate your own tastes in it from the general stream of possibilities? an area, room to insert personality and idiosyncrasies? and isn't that, when it comes down to it, what really matters in the world of production? can you separate the words aptitude and skill? i suppose you can...but it seems like the path would be much narrower and easy to follow for someone who had a taste, a preexisting identity within the realm of the subject.
so here i am, struggling and giving an attempt at producing. but what if the larger works don't pan? what then? is an attempt which does not manifest in its entirety necessarily a failure? i want to say that it isn't...but perhaps that is more of a security blanket for myself than anything else.
3/28 (continuation)
what of incomplete works? do they have any merit, ideas pursued, if they never morph into their best (and completed, Kant) manifestations? i remember this moment in college, philosophy class, where it was posited that only actions have any value, and anything which remained only in theory or thought had no value in the real world. i remember being incredibly uncomfortable with this idea, especially when applying it to my life, perhaps because i was only a college student at the time and my entire life existed only in theory at that point. what a candle-snuffing restriction, i thought. i personally think that everything is being accounted for, somewhere...which is an interesting concept, because it may feed into the appraisal or rejection of an ego. ego in some circumstances certainly seems justified, such as when the subject has accomplished recognizable and vast compendiums of progress. these people are allowed by society, as a whole, to become....not necessarily arrogant, but perhaps a bit more discerning in terms of what they do and do not choose to acknowledge, to pay attention to. almost everyone agrees that someone who has proven their worth in a certain capacity or function is allowed leniency in other matters, allowed a certain length of artistic distance from the general problems ruling the rest of the equation. workplaces, as well, follow this same pattern, dividing workforce into factions which have unique focii, and then liminal departments or liasons who bridge the gaps between all these diverse fields being concentrated on individually, thereby connecting the gears and allowing oversight, control, and production. so clearly this is a recognizable and respected practice...perhaps it should be allowed those same respects for potential, for people who have not yet manifested but who feel the thunder at their fingertips.
if ego is really composed of these diverse partitions, however, it becomes increasingly hard to stop a person from being forcibly overbearing with their personality....which actually creates elitism, and corrupts the very practices and concepts, poisons the stream from which those future manifestations would spring. the balance is staggering. one must maintain their own lives, and take accountability in full for any collateral damage that acting profoundly, or egotistically, may incur. it would be obnoxious to be egotistical around the clock, but perhaps there are certain times in which it is beneficial and offers a generative effect to be able to disregard certain facets of everyday life.
let's get a fragment more in depth here, since i feel that the last sentence i wrote was a bit ambiguous. i don't think that condoning arrogance in an ego is ever a good thing; i think that to be more of a vice which should be bred out of our systems in early age, and which potentially is by the harsh realities of childhood in a public schooling system (perhaps that was just my being put-in-place experience). rather, what i mean to say is that there are certain times at which it can be largely beneficial, especially regarding the creation of art, to exude confidence in yourself. the burdens of psychology can be quite a weight in some circumstances; we continually second-guess ourselves and question our ability to finish things out which we begin...question our ability to provide or draw the final line. i know i do this. but from time to time, especially in times of heavy work, a well-founded ego can be essential to the production of intelligent art, and additionally intelligent and artistic living. being freed from the burdens of neuroses and worries, grabbing life and creativity by the horns...these two ideas are interchangeable, but often come off to an uninitiated mind as an inadmissible arrogance. living by the sword, however, is a good practice for an artist. boundaries must be drawn, and actions must be taken and backed by a solid degree of confidence in their application.
how is it that i had coffee this morning, and now my brain decides to go sluggish on me? must be the whiskey. best guess. one would think that the tea here, oolong, would do the job. yet, no. not at all.
where is the merit in appreciation? here i find myself next to a flurry of quick-witted people. i'm not in the mood, myself...not hardly. but since this happens from time to time, i find it worth noting....and the question has popped up in other manifestations, most notably writing and music. art.
what value is there to be found in mere appreciation, aside from production?
must an appreciator tend towards production at some point? or it it enough simply to enjoy, to have no ambitions in particular for themselves? when i started listening to music, when i started reading what i consider to be decent literature, it came about for me that i began to want to produce it, to spin my own wheels and find expression. now, since i am at the point of scribbling here about it, it seems clear that it is becoming ever more important for me.
as i sit here and hear these people, i realize....there is a fine line between well-placed witticisms and obnoxious overstatements, both in word and in personality. there is no accounting for taste, and some people speak because they have to say something, rather than because they have something to say. maybe a little too harsh. at least these kids are eloquent with their wordings....intelligence is denoted, sometimes too enthusiastically but, who is to say what is too much?
the point remains. what becomes of me, of my mind, of my legacy, if i never produce that which i appreciate? doesn't appreciation require an aptitude for the subject matter, and enough of one to be able to separate your own tastes in it from the general stream of possibilities? an area, room to insert personality and idiosyncrasies? and isn't that, when it comes down to it, what really matters in the world of production? can you separate the words aptitude and skill? i suppose you can...but it seems like the path would be much narrower and easy to follow for someone who had a taste, a preexisting identity within the realm of the subject.
so here i am, struggling and giving an attempt at producing. but what if the larger works don't pan? what then? is an attempt which does not manifest in its entirety necessarily a failure? i want to say that it isn't...but perhaps that is more of a security blanket for myself than anything else.
3/28 (continuation)
what of incomplete works? do they have any merit, ideas pursued, if they never morph into their best (and completed, Kant) manifestations? i remember this moment in college, philosophy class, where it was posited that only actions have any value, and anything which remained only in theory or thought had no value in the real world. i remember being incredibly uncomfortable with this idea, especially when applying it to my life, perhaps because i was only a college student at the time and my entire life existed only in theory at that point. what a candle-snuffing restriction, i thought. i personally think that everything is being accounted for, somewhere...which is an interesting concept, because it may feed into the appraisal or rejection of an ego. ego in some circumstances certainly seems justified, such as when the subject has accomplished recognizable and vast compendiums of progress. these people are allowed by society, as a whole, to become....not necessarily arrogant, but perhaps a bit more discerning in terms of what they do and do not choose to acknowledge, to pay attention to. almost everyone agrees that someone who has proven their worth in a certain capacity or function is allowed leniency in other matters, allowed a certain length of artistic distance from the general problems ruling the rest of the equation. workplaces, as well, follow this same pattern, dividing workforce into factions which have unique focii, and then liminal departments or liasons who bridge the gaps between all these diverse fields being concentrated on individually, thereby connecting the gears and allowing oversight, control, and production. so clearly this is a recognizable and respected practice...perhaps it should be allowed those same respects for potential, for people who have not yet manifested but who feel the thunder at their fingertips.
if ego is really composed of these diverse partitions, however, it becomes increasingly hard to stop a person from being forcibly overbearing with their personality....which actually creates elitism, and corrupts the very practices and concepts, poisons the stream from which those future manifestations would spring. the balance is staggering. one must maintain their own lives, and take accountability in full for any collateral damage that acting profoundly, or egotistically, may incur. it would be obnoxious to be egotistical around the clock, but perhaps there are certain times in which it is beneficial and offers a generative effect to be able to disregard certain facets of everyday life.
let's get a fragment more in depth here, since i feel that the last sentence i wrote was a bit ambiguous. i don't think that condoning arrogance in an ego is ever a good thing; i think that to be more of a vice which should be bred out of our systems in early age, and which potentially is by the harsh realities of childhood in a public schooling system (perhaps that was just my being put-in-place experience). rather, what i mean to say is that there are certain times at which it can be largely beneficial, especially regarding the creation of art, to exude confidence in yourself. the burdens of psychology can be quite a weight in some circumstances; we continually second-guess ourselves and question our ability to finish things out which we begin...question our ability to provide or draw the final line. i know i do this. but from time to time, especially in times of heavy work, a well-founded ego can be essential to the production of intelligent art, and additionally intelligent and artistic living. being freed from the burdens of neuroses and worries, grabbing life and creativity by the horns...these two ideas are interchangeable, but often come off to an uninitiated mind as an inadmissible arrogance. living by the sword, however, is a good practice for an artist. boundaries must be drawn, and actions must be taken and backed by a solid degree of confidence in their application.
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