YouTube, Feedback, and Hi-def version added 11.22.07
11:25 PM, Wednesday July 7th, 2004:
In what has to be considered the turnaround of the century, I'm actually starting to think I'm the most sane person alive. It's everyone else who can't keep their shit together. It's occuring to me just how much people hold in...and in turn pay for that with their health. Looking back, I just don't do that. Ever. It's allllllllll sitting here in these entries and songs. And as I found out last night, sometimes it makes no sense at the time. Looking back however, it's those emotionally draining songs/videos/entries that kept me going in my real life. Only in trying to justify it to others do I run into any roadblocks. And there's the crux of this entry.
So I have a melody in my head driving me nuts - had to get it recorded - thus, you pull out the ol' video camera. I see how I want it to look...the vide effects I want to use to allow the viewer to jump in my head. From how I sing it to my movements...I'm ready. I however have nothing really to say. I just have to feel. I have to make sounds that feel right, that rhyme, that work for me. The words mean nothing really - though you could probably take each line and find some meaning. But it's where I struggle because I know I have to justify it when I post it. But then it hits me...why?
Why do we as viewers of art need justification for it? Not justifying if it's "Worthy", but simply justifying the why/what/wheres of it. Why does a band have to explain to the public why they're releasing a record? And even more peculiar...explain why it wasn't as big as the last one. The answer as an artist is: "I don't control that. I just create." But we force our artists to not only create, but create the way we want them to. The way it touches us. And when it's not up to our standards...we chastise them. Interesting little connundrum ain't it.
This video is just blurb in my head. It's a piece of me that had to get out. It's like a hairball really. All this stuff going on, I'm in the midst of so many different things that I need to concentrate on, that I need to create ASAP...and I just can't. I have to get this out. I have, it feels the way I feel (which is harder then you'd think) and it's there. But then just as I question those who need justification for it... I am that same person:
"What the hell is this? Is it a song? What does it mean? I can't even understand what you're saying dude. Why are you spinning like that man? The second part hurts my head dude...the drum sound is's completely dischordant... Ooh pretty colors, you being artsy just for artsy sake? Not one of your best dude."
LOL - I guess I don't really think all of that...but in a little tiny way: we all do. We judge art and performance by standards of the unartistic and untalented. Now I'm not saying you can't be a movie critic unless you're a movie maker - but I'm not talking about movies - which to me are about 30 different pieces of art coming together to make one project. In that vein, when all the pieces of the film don't gel right - it's obvious. What I mean is say an Art Gallery. A guy puts a stop sign in the butt-crack of a statue because he felt like it. We laugh, point (wow I just realized the symbolism of a stop sign in someone's butt...that's kinda funny) anyway - we judge it... turn the artist tries to justify it. And if we don't get it intially, and then don't get his explanation - it's bad art. Or the politically correct would just say:  "It's not my cup of tea".
You know what I think it is? We simply don't care about what the artist feels, all that artsy crap. We just want it to fall into the cateogry we consider valuable. Does it look good to us, does it sound good to us, do WE feel something from it. But as an artist, it's very, very difficult to take your baggage into account when we're spitting out ours. We simply have to spit it out.
I remember seeing George Harrison defend the 32 songs on the White Album to those who thought they should've cut some and made it a tighter 15 track album. That 32 was just too much. "What are you supposed to do when you have all these songs inside you?" George said. And you know, he's right really. You have to get it out. You have to create. Once it's out? can move on man. I can never express what it feels like to get that out.
And that's why it's therapeutic. It's funny, Doc at work gives me shit all the time for not seeing the massage therapist who helps you work out all your problems that your body holds in and I just kinda laugh and go about my day. I am constantly taking things in and spitting them out. I write/scream/yell/sing/act/produce/direct/film/run/screw/speak/cry/debate/draw/create... hourly. That's my way of dealing with alllllllllllll the shit life throws at me. I am in love with my process. I don't want another process, because I truly don't want another outlet. I need all the shit that comes in to fuel all the shit that goes out. Which is why I think I'm more sane than most really. Granted, my insanity is foisted upon this journal, but in real-life I'm an extremely mellow, easy-going dude.
So in the end, here's a minute of my brain produced in a way that shows how I feel in moments. I'm sure hidden in here is all I'm struggling with, all my feelings, and a nice neat little explanation - but I personally don't give a shit enough to try and figure all that out for you right now. It is just what I spit up yesterday and the final part of the process is posting it. Guess I could've just written "Here ya go:" but I had to over-analyze it of course.
Four days away from cutting my damn hair. Word.