Hello and good morning to y’all.
So, I listened to the last night of the DNC. Yes, listened as in radio. You may call me a Luddite if you wish, but I find television manipulates my emotion too easily. At this time in the political process, I need to hear what the people are saying, not just their words but the meaning behind those words. It really shouldn’t matter to me what others think about the candidate or speaker, yet often I feel when I’m watching the speech I’m getting swept in the political version of Beatlemania that the crowd feels. Emotion clouds judgment, and television raises the level of emotion by turning each speech into a montage of excited faces of mothers, rivals, and rarely the politician giving the speech. I strive to be a political Jedi Knight, free of all but the politics of the moment. You can call me Qbi Wan Canvotie.
This being said, I must admit there was nothing more cynically funny that watching the crowd wave their “unity” banners while Hillary gave her war cry for partisan politics.
It’ll be interesting what the Republicans have to say in response. I’ll certainly be listening. In politics, only fools don’t swing both ways.
A good thing to keep in mind when we’re choosing Senators for president.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Back?
It’s time. Time to stretch my fingers again over the ebony keys of this dream machine.Time again to whisper and say hello to all of you.
Hi how are you? What’s happened in your life since I went away?Not really away, more like an eclipse. Am I out of the Earth’s shadow yet? I’m unsure. But today might be a good time to wake back up.
So, pour a little whiskey on my grave to bring me back to the top. Give me a funny hat to shade my bald spot. In the elevators to work, you’ll find me, softly tap-dancing when no one’s there.
And a little voice will mutter, “Now where did I put that Q?”
Hi how are you? What’s happened in your life since I went away?Not really away, more like an eclipse. Am I out of the Earth’s shadow yet? I’m unsure. But today might be a good time to wake back up.
So, pour a little whiskey on my grave to bring me back to the top. Give me a funny hat to shade my bald spot. In the elevators to work, you’ll find me, softly tap-dancing when no one’s there.
And a little voice will mutter, “Now where did I put that Q?”
Friday, August 8, 2008
It's Quiet, too Quiet...
No shenanigans waited for me on the subway. Nor the office. Nor after the office. These results give me mixed feelings. While I really hate early morning mayonnaise fights, at least it gives me something to talk about…
Unlike today.
Oh well. At least there’ll be doughnuts at work…
Unlike today.
Oh well. At least there’ll be doughnuts at work…
Thursday, August 7, 2008
26 minutes of Thursday
It’s gonna be one of Those days today, my friends. I’m currently 13 minutes into it, and I can tell.
I woke this morning on the wrong side of the bed, upside down. I was using a different pillow and blanket too. Thankfully, the clothes I had on seemed not to change much. I opened the refrigerator door and got dive bombed by the canola mayonnaise. Apparently, the Happy cat bottle of wine and one of my bottles of Kombucha conspired for the canola to commit a murder/suicide of my metatarsals. My foot (for once) wasn’t asleep on the job and dodged the descending jar of mayo; murder averted. However, upon impact, the lid experienced a loss of structural integrity, and my kitchen experienced what it would be like to be the studio of a bad performance artist as Mayonnaise splattered across the room.
It’s now 13 minutes later and noting more extravagant has happened. This pleases me as all I’ve done is sit at my computer, compose this blog and nibble a piece of toast. I’m going to take it as a sign to go into work early today. Who knows what shenanigans wait for me on the subway!
Waffles!
I woke this morning on the wrong side of the bed, upside down. I was using a different pillow and blanket too. Thankfully, the clothes I had on seemed not to change much. I opened the refrigerator door and got dive bombed by the canola mayonnaise. Apparently, the Happy cat bottle of wine and one of my bottles of Kombucha conspired for the canola to commit a murder/suicide of my metatarsals. My foot (for once) wasn’t asleep on the job and dodged the descending jar of mayo; murder averted. However, upon impact, the lid experienced a loss of structural integrity, and my kitchen experienced what it would be like to be the studio of a bad performance artist as Mayonnaise splattered across the room.
It’s now 13 minutes later and noting more extravagant has happened. This pleases me as all I’ve done is sit at my computer, compose this blog and nibble a piece of toast. I’m going to take it as a sign to go into work early today. Who knows what shenanigans wait for me on the subway!
Waffles!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Red, White, and Q
Hi there friends,
I started thinking about the American Dream the last few days, and what it all meant. What I realized is that while everyone who has ½ an art in his/her heart will at one time or another try to define this elusive altered state of consciousness, I'm unsure I've ever heard of anybody talk about the American Reality.
Come to think of it, the American Reality might be more elusive than the dream. What's real about this country? Our main export is our culture, mostly coming out of Hollywood – a land of illusion. Our military superiority? Since the late forties we've scared the world with threats of Atomic Doom, and in turn are intimidated by the posturing of the "enemy block." Economics? It's all a mindset. The stock market is nothing but speculation of the future, and the resulting wealth of the company. A dollar has its value based on the same factors – what other countries think it will be worth – not backed up by anything material, just dreams. I've voted in every election since I was eighteen; and since my state has always disagreed with me, I have never voted in any election.
Ok Mr. cynical, so what is the American reality? Does it have to be depressing? Does it have to be about lack of health care, teenage pregnancy? Does it have to deal with house foreclosures
and shootings in churches, and trains not running on time?
No. I think the American Reality is defined as "What it is to be an American."
Right about here, the liberal on my sholder (looking like a collage professor) has started retching, while the conservative on my other sholder has (looking like my Grandpa) is giving me the thumbs up. Since I love both these people and hate it when they start fighting (I always seem to get stuck in the middle.) I gotta wrap this up quickly.
"What it to be an American" might be the biggest American dream of them all - except when it's a personal definition as long as no one speaks for anybody but themselves, it's all true. It's all American. E pluribis unum, mother's brother.
Granted, this is just what I think. What do you think?
I started thinking about the American Dream the last few days, and what it all meant. What I realized is that while everyone who has ½ an art in his/her heart will at one time or another try to define this elusive altered state of consciousness, I'm unsure I've ever heard of anybody talk about the American Reality.
Come to think of it, the American Reality might be more elusive than the dream. What's real about this country? Our main export is our culture, mostly coming out of Hollywood – a land of illusion. Our military superiority? Since the late forties we've scared the world with threats of Atomic Doom, and in turn are intimidated by the posturing of the "enemy block." Economics? It's all a mindset. The stock market is nothing but speculation of the future, and the resulting wealth of the company. A dollar has its value based on the same factors – what other countries think it will be worth – not backed up by anything material, just dreams. I've voted in every election since I was eighteen; and since my state has always disagreed with me, I have never voted in any election.
Ok Mr. cynical, so what is the American reality? Does it have to be depressing? Does it have to be about lack of health care, teenage pregnancy? Does it have to deal with house foreclosures
and shootings in churches, and trains not running on time?
No. I think the American Reality is defined as "What it is to be an American."
Right about here, the liberal on my sholder (looking like a collage professor) has started retching, while the conservative on my other sholder has (looking like my Grandpa) is giving me the thumbs up. Since I love both these people and hate it when they start fighting (I always seem to get stuck in the middle.) I gotta wrap this up quickly.
"What it to be an American" might be the biggest American dream of them all - except when it's a personal definition as long as no one speaks for anybody but themselves, it's all true. It's all American. E pluribis unum, mother's brother.
Granted, this is just what I think. What do you think?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Art, a rant inspired by "The Dark Knight"
Art is a scam.
For those of you who believe that life is but an illusion, this should come as no shock to you. However, it's been my experience that it is this set of people that would rather dip their tongue in battery acid than admit I'm right.
Is it art?
A good question. Lots of smart people have written lots of stupid things to answer this question. My answer is easy, cynical and simple, born from nearly a decade of Coffee shops, Theatre, and second-hand art school experience. Art is subjective. The nature of Art within an object/action is found solely within the viewer's mind. Anybody who tells what they feel is or isn't art is expressing an opinion. Anybody who tries to tell you how to feel about the artistry of an object/action is a moron. When it comes to art, everybody's right, because art is a judgment.
Art is more valuable than its components.
Very few probably look at "The Scream" and appreciate that it's a mixture of various toxic metals originally suspended into oil spread across a piece of cardboard. Very few people probably look at Michelangelo's David and bemoan the fact that it wont get its original market price because so much of the marble has been chipped away to create a naked man Art is an appreciation of an action/object, not of simply the components, but how the components exist, often in relationship to each other. The more artistic one feels the action/object is the more value one will assign it.
Art is useless.
This statement isn't exactly true; however, what idiots commonly call "high art" (painting, sculpture, papermaking etc.) doesn't have a practical function in everyday life. Owning a Ming vase won't ensure you'll wake up on time. The Venus de Milo isn't going to help you make breakfast. The Pollack painting on the wall is not going to keep me warm in the winter time unless I set it on fire. The most practical use for "high art" is in terms of investment. Odds are if the action/object has a high enough art (people continue to think it's valuable) then its value will rise over time. Koons' Rabbit is nothing but a stainless steel baseball card.
Art is a scam.
The job of the artist then, is to convince others (and commonly themselves) that the action/object that they have created has value, i.e. is art. The artist who makes a living with their art does so by selling it to others. People won't buy a useless object unless they somehow find it valuable. In other words the job of an artist is to convince people that a useless action/object that they've made has value. The funny thing is, as long as the viewer believes that the art is valuable, the art remains valuable. The artist is not the conman. The art is.
For those of you who believe that life is but an illusion, this should come as no shock to you. However, it's been my experience that it is this set of people that would rather dip their tongue in battery acid than admit I'm right.
Is it art?
A good question. Lots of smart people have written lots of stupid things to answer this question. My answer is easy, cynical and simple, born from nearly a decade of Coffee shops, Theatre, and second-hand art school experience. Art is subjective. The nature of Art within an object/action is found solely within the viewer's mind. Anybody who tells what they feel is or isn't art is expressing an opinion. Anybody who tries to tell you how to feel about the artistry of an object/action is a moron. When it comes to art, everybody's right, because art is a judgment.
Art is more valuable than its components.
Very few probably look at "The Scream" and appreciate that it's a mixture of various toxic metals originally suspended into oil spread across a piece of cardboard. Very few people probably look at Michelangelo's David and bemoan the fact that it wont get its original market price because so much of the marble has been chipped away to create a naked man Art is an appreciation of an action/object, not of simply the components, but how the components exist, often in relationship to each other. The more artistic one feels the action/object is the more value one will assign it.
Art is useless.
This statement isn't exactly true; however, what idiots commonly call "high art" (painting, sculpture, papermaking etc.) doesn't have a practical function in everyday life. Owning a Ming vase won't ensure you'll wake up on time. The Venus de Milo isn't going to help you make breakfast. The Pollack painting on the wall is not going to keep me warm in the winter time unless I set it on fire. The most practical use for "high art" is in terms of investment. Odds are if the action/object has a high enough art (people continue to think it's valuable) then its value will rise over time. Koons' Rabbit is nothing but a stainless steel baseball card.
Art is a scam.
The job of the artist then, is to convince others (and commonly themselves) that the action/object that they have created has value, i.e. is art. The artist who makes a living with their art does so by selling it to others. People won't buy a useless object unless they somehow find it valuable. In other words the job of an artist is to convince people that a useless action/object that they've made has value. The funny thing is, as long as the viewer believes that the art is valuable, the art remains valuable. The artist is not the conman. The art is.
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