We all celebrate the new year on a different day, namely our birthday. I just had mine and I thought about what had happened over the course of the last twelve months. I asked myself if I contributed something to the human race, or did I simply consume resources. I suppose it was a bit of both.
I decided to start painting the first of January, and I have since completed some 29 canvases in the past six months. I have been a photographer most of my life, but not until recently have I ever picked up a brush. I am quite enjoying it and have made great progress in a short amount of time. I love painting and the complete freedom of expression I feel every time I begin a new canvas. Its all very different than photography, which has become pretty mundane for me. I find that when I pursue different forms of artistic expression it serves to refresh my mind, my insight, my visual vocabulary. Spending all of my time in one media is not conducive to unique, satisfying results. So I work in wood, metal, photography and now paint.
In addition to the painting I also wrote a book about growing up in my home town of Moab. It is a memoir and at the same time a philosophy of life; a collection of ideas and opinions. I'm just finishing the first round of editing and will soon put my efforts toward publication. I have four more book ideas floating around in my gray matter and I need to finish this one so I can start on the next one. Writing is an enjoyable activity for me and I think anyone that tried it would like it. I need a publisher; can anybody out there recommend one?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Mr. Lizard Brain
Different people want different things according to their temperament and their intellect. What they (we) all have in common is Mr. Lizard Brain. Mr. LB doesn't really have a job anymore so he makes nothing into something by overreacting to the slightest input. Did some driver cut you off in traffic? Mr. LB wants to run him off the road and watch as he explodes into a fireball. See a billboard for cheap flights to Cancun? Mr. LB immediately tells you that your happiness, therefore your well being and perhaps even your survival depends upon booking that trip immediately. Is that perfectly good car in your garage not the latest and greatest thing on wheels? Do you feel a slight pressure in the back of your head, like an itch you can't quite reach, every time you see a new car or an ad for a new car? Mr. LB is in direct communication with the finance department at your local dealer. (Dealers are dealers whether they push cars or drugs) "Come on down and we'll get you out of that bad decision you've been driving, even though you are hopelessly upside down on it; plus we'll put you in the automobile of your (our) dreams. Its the new Gran Family Truckster Wagon!!! You hate it now but just wait until you drive it. Mr. Lb has already made the deal and you, you poor fool, are literally just along for the ride.
Desire is the jungle in which we live. Instead of watching out for big hungry things that might want us for lunch, we watch out for the next big sale down at the Megastuff Store. Instead of spending the entire day looking for something to eat, we spend the entire day eating. Instead of fighting for survival we watch other people pretend to fight in highly contrived situations whose outcome has no meaning whatsoever. I'm talking about "professional" sports, the biggest waste of time and money ever conceived by man. And yet it thrives because it appeals to our baser instincts, specifically those of Mr. LB. The fight for survival has be replace by pretend wars of conquest. We don't have to learn how to fight; we don't have to stay in shape; we don't have any struggle at all. So we invent tribes, called teams, and pledge our allegiance to them, and send them into battle so that we may vicariously experience the thrill of combat (now called competition). We wear the colors of our chosen tribe and loudly proclaim their superiority. We pay the tribe outrageous sums to fight for us according to a strict set of rules. Mr. LB loves rules. He understands rules because they are black and white, no room for debate or interpretation. Rules allow snap decisions, the only kind Mr. LB understands. Of course the only thing Mr. LB likes more than rules is breaking them.
Desire is the jungle in which we live. Instead of watching out for big hungry things that might want us for lunch, we watch out for the next big sale down at the Megastuff Store. Instead of spending the entire day looking for something to eat, we spend the entire day eating. Instead of fighting for survival we watch other people pretend to fight in highly contrived situations whose outcome has no meaning whatsoever. I'm talking about "professional" sports, the biggest waste of time and money ever conceived by man. And yet it thrives because it appeals to our baser instincts, specifically those of Mr. LB. The fight for survival has be replace by pretend wars of conquest. We don't have to learn how to fight; we don't have to stay in shape; we don't have any struggle at all. So we invent tribes, called teams, and pledge our allegiance to them, and send them into battle so that we may vicariously experience the thrill of combat (now called competition). We wear the colors of our chosen tribe and loudly proclaim their superiority. We pay the tribe outrageous sums to fight for us according to a strict set of rules. Mr. LB loves rules. He understands rules because they are black and white, no room for debate or interpretation. Rules allow snap decisions, the only kind Mr. LB understands. Of course the only thing Mr. LB likes more than rules is breaking them.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The First
After writing for years in a paper journal, I decided to extend my thoughts to the "cloud." The purpose is not to monetize or proselytize but instead to share my thought with you, whomever you may be. If you find what I write to be thought provoking then I welcome a response. Let me be specific, I welcome a thoughtful response, not a four hundred character brain fart. If that is your cup of tea then please leave and return to your FB spews or your rants and raves on whatever forum you cherish most.
The great thing about a blog is you have all the room you need to get your point across. The social networking sites are completely worthless in this regard. Technology has once again replaced something that originally required talent, skill or at the very least craftsmanship. That something is conversation, and it is becoming a lost art. When was the last time you actually had a conversation with anyone about anything? Are you too busy to call your friend and talk to them? Its oh so much easier and convenient to just text them. GK said recently that obsessive texting is the same thing as scratching your butt, and requires just about that much thought. Parents are always complaining that they never talk to little Sue or Johnny. They can't even get them to read an email. The preferred form of communication is the brain fart also known as a text message. It goes something like this. Parent to offspring: Hi Johnny. How is school going. Did you find a new apartment yet. Love Dad. Offspring to Parent: class ok send money asap xoxo. Notice the distinct lack of abbreviation in both messages: the parent because they don't know any other than lol and the offspring because they know the parent will have no clue. What we have just witnessed is the new version of a conversation between people who know and supposedly love one another. Ah modern times.
This being the first post in a new blog, I have decided to keep it short and spare the cloud too many more words for today. My intent is to publish daily, with the exception of trips to the wilderness. By that I mean going where there is no electronic communication available. Shock the monkey! Do you really mean to suggest that there are places on this earth with gasp(!) no cell service? Believe it or not there are and I love them. Later.
The great thing about a blog is you have all the room you need to get your point across. The social networking sites are completely worthless in this regard. Technology has once again replaced something that originally required talent, skill or at the very least craftsmanship. That something is conversation, and it is becoming a lost art. When was the last time you actually had a conversation with anyone about anything? Are you too busy to call your friend and talk to them? Its oh so much easier and convenient to just text them. GK said recently that obsessive texting is the same thing as scratching your butt, and requires just about that much thought. Parents are always complaining that they never talk to little Sue or Johnny. They can't even get them to read an email. The preferred form of communication is the brain fart also known as a text message. It goes something like this. Parent to offspring: Hi Johnny. How is school going. Did you find a new apartment yet. Love Dad. Offspring to Parent: class ok send money asap xoxo. Notice the distinct lack of abbreviation in both messages: the parent because they don't know any other than lol and the offspring because they know the parent will have no clue. What we have just witnessed is the new version of a conversation between people who know and supposedly love one another. Ah modern times.
This being the first post in a new blog, I have decided to keep it short and spare the cloud too many more words for today. My intent is to publish daily, with the exception of trips to the wilderness. By that I mean going where there is no electronic communication available. Shock the monkey! Do you really mean to suggest that there are places on this earth with gasp(!) no cell service? Believe it or not there are and I love them. Later.
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