Saturday, April 24, 2010

lack of narrative

i was thinking about how unhappy i am with this blog. ....
so i thought maybe the key was to write in it more? maybe by pounding it out it will hit a rhythm or something and i'll hit my blogging stride.
Brock and i were watching music videos tonight from the nineties, nine inch nails, tool, madonna, what have you. And then we watched silence of the lamb and i drank limeade.

I was reading an article in sunstone the other day and the author was talking about death of a narrative, he had reached the phase in his life where he was married, had a job "and then he worked for 38 years and then died."

While I am not married, nor do i have a permanent job/career or place to live, i feel like i've hit a death of narrative.

I was going to be an artist, I was traveling the world, and people would be "oh, really?" when i told them about my life like i was interesting. and i was interested in my life.

Now i work, i've cut down drastically on my social life and even when i do hang out with people i feel restless and anxious and unable to focus. other than brock and a small handful of people it's hard for me to think of a time when i had a meaningful and energizing conversation with anyone where i felt like our souls were touching.

I'm out of love, out of ideals, and out of time.

I just want to trim out all the unnnecessaries and the time wasters and focuse and work and push and drive and become something better, stronger, kinder, more capable, more self-contained. I want to make stuff and study and sweat and struggle and find myself on the other side of everything. I'm terrified of crashing, i lack balance and control and the ability to center.

what about the beauty, the heartstopping moments that make me freeze and shiver with out of my head excitement? can i hold on to them and still give shape to this strange drive pushing against my insides?

As i move forward i've been thinking about how important it is for me to keep writing, if not in my blog at least in my journal to jot down notes and my perspecitves, i used to think i wrote down meaning i found in my life but now i think perhaps i write down my life to find meaning.

Sunday, April 18, 2010


the thing it's name was trick
and every loop it licked
crashed it's rocket ship
put some chocolate in it's pocket
thought it could just walk it
no fortunes told
no heros bold
just laying
we sing together
it sounds like sand and salt
it wasn't my fault
i can't own up to that
inside my head the sea runs red
blood in my ears is what it said
wondering around in pea green fog
thought it could just walk it off.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

shooting star

It's been a while since i've written a blog post that i was satisfied with. nothing seems to encapsulate the entirety of my thoughts,

and my head has been full of this buzzing hum so strong and persistent, and probably A minor, but buttery and flesh colored, like when you close your eyes in a cafeteria and feel submerged in sounds and your total anonymity.

i was thinking about the concept of accountability. that is sort of what religion provides isn't it? the idea of being watched, of having a chance to explain, excuse, or at least sum up the total of your existence. the power of narration is a beautiful thing, the chance to filter, organize, and derive meaning and understanding from our experiences. that's why we tell people about our day isn't it?

me, i talk alot. i tell people things. i find that i learn what i think about things as i'm expressing them to people. Don Juan told Don Carlos while on the path to becoming a warrior:
"you know what your problem is? you're so damn self-important. you should tell all your soul to all the world, even the blades of grass because the details of your self are so insignificant."

my definition of self has undergone some significant re-vamping within the past year. some of it good and some of it bad. i feel a bit broken, when i used to think of myself as whole. my reaction to that is to withdraw and i feel a strong desire to pull away and be alone with myself. it's not just depression, it's a feeling of fragility and the feeling that other people can hurt me without even noticing or meaning to.

over all i feel like i have an awareness that i can be hurt and i now have a desire to protect myself.

along with this comes my decision to go into pre-med and abandon pipe-dreams of being a successful artist. it's not that i think i couldn't, or that i dont have the capabilities. but i feel that i'm too soft for it. and i hate having things out of my hands. you can work so hard, so very hard and still have nothing. and i'm not strong enough to handle that possibility.

giving up on being an artist, is giving up. but deciding to go into pre-med is not.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


i'm super excited about a bunch of art shows brock and i thought up. we just stayed up for a long time with some butcher paper and markers and wrote out all these ideas. several things occured to me:
1. the only thing holding us back from having shows all the time is lack of venue
2. shows are the best package for art ideas for us
3. talking to brock is exciting, talking to a lot of other people is boring
4. even though i feel really good about this med school thing i also feel really good about pounding out alot of art, making a lot of shows
5. the idea of doing guerilla art attack shows is super great. I like the idea of one night installation house shows, inviting friends to play music and even dance depending on the house and the art. there's nothing more utopian to me than creating and experience art together.
6. i wonder what it would take to organize an informal art council that was just about local art shows and connected local art and music events. do we already have that in provo and i just dont know about it?