Wednesday, April 28, 2010

I get bored

Reading is a real chore for me. A friend gave me his writings to read. I can guess his purpose; I am supposed to read it then give feedback. I start on the chore, and it is a chore. I wade my way through his elaborately constructed phrases which are littered with all his obviously favoured words. I get bored. See how simply I put this? I got bored----quickly. Yawn. It's not at all captivating. I don't wish to read any more of it. It does nothing for me. But he has an expectation. And that would be feedback and of course if I wish to remain his friend the feedback must be positive. But how can I feel positive about something I found to be devoid of interest, totally uninspiring and uninspired?

It is now my dear reader that my heart goes out to you. You suffer my writings. Fortunately you are able to click away from them the instant you find them to be boring. What a blessing! And the silence of all except my own voice here merely shows the lack of bullseyes in my targeting your interest. I am thankful for this however. Why? Because it tells me that I am totally unique. I enjoy being uninspired and alone in my world. I too find all the thoughts of others to be totally uninteresting and become bored so quickly now. Most I read is simply the words of others and they are not really important. Are they? And most of the time in fact all of the time they are just ideas and concepts you have read before over and over simply rehashed. Yes you do get to the stage- heard it all before. It hits you about 50. And what a revelation.

Then the frantic search begins--

The question is:

Where do we go for new input? And what the fuck do we search for?

So many words and so little sense. This is the first sign of my madness. The others will follow shortly in sweet succession.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Are we interested

I stumbled upon this blog. I have had a lot to do with mental illness over the past 30 odd years and this is not my own. It appears that every second person I was involved with and my family members included were demonstrating some kind of diagnosable mental condition. The thing is, I still seem to be interested in mental conditions. You would think I have had enough. But no; I am still sucked into reading about troubled people and the above linked personal diary by a disturbed artist is riveting reading. She has the horrible bipolar thingy. The one that causes highs and lows and sexual promiscuity and all that interesting stuff that is so valuable for an artist to have.

See she is interesting and I am boring. Why? Because I am happy. This absolutely ruins any kind of art career of course. I am destined to plod along with my silly paintings for the rest of my life confident in the fact that no-one is going to take any notice of them ( or me) whatsoever. I'm not troubled enough to be of interest. See we artistic types are supposed to be trainwrecks. We gotta cut off our ears and send them to girls who have rejected our advances and do all that kind of interesting stuff before we become worthy of any kind of attention. Lifes gotta be tragic, difficult, untenable poverty filled and above all depressing before the world should consider taking any interest in our work. Because if like me you are pathetically happy-- well you got nothing to say that is worthwhile have you? See what I mean. Even writing this silly post really has no purpose. where's the angst? It just doesn't challenge you does it? And of course if you are happy you are not very intelligent. If you are bright you can see life is just a crock of shit. if you actually accept everything around you as fine and dandy- then you are too stupid for words.

Look. I could go on and on like this for pages but I think you all get the point. Goodnight from a stupid man who dreams of one day being what the world would consider worthy of being called an artist.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Hot topics

Had the ex over here giving me the lecture on nutrition and health and environmental impacts statements of my life were heaped into the mix and I am just overwhelmed with how wrong I've got my life. It seems I have totally the wrong slant on everything. It also seems I am lucky to be still alive. As I sat there listening to all the errors I was making in my lifestyle I had a thought.( That, after all, is what the overthinking man does.) Women are really into nurture and nature. We blokes are just miles behind in our thinking. We are too busy keeping up with technology and on how to fix things and we forget that there are so many risks around us that can put an end to our lives in an instant. Our nutrition is so bad left to our own resources that we would keel over by age 30.
Now when I talk to  the many women I know I must stay away from those negative opinions I have held. It's not that they are totally self absorbed and they talk about how they are feeling to share with me the various things they know in experiencing their own terrible health problems to help me fix my own state of deterioration. It's not that they are just totally looking at themselves and wanting me to share their horrible pain. They are looking out for me. That's why they keep talking about their problems. They are really trying to give me the information. How wrong I have been?

I don't think I am wrong really. I'm just saying that to have a bit of fun with ya! Ha ha! Keep talking girls. It's fascinating seeing how fascinated you are with yourselves. And I'm not seriously believing this neither. Here's the truth--- it is truly painful hearing these women talk about themselves endlessly. Somehow they must have thought I was seriously asking them how they are when I greeted them with "Hi Such-and-such. How are you?" And then they tell me--- incessantly!!!!!!!! And nature. what about nature? It is cruel. Because they are female and I am male I feel I must listen intently to them because they are female and I am male and if they were male I would tell them to stop being wimps and to shut up about their troubles with their health! And they would still be my mate nevertheless. Coz that's what a bloke does to help his mate feel better.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Come the little children

As any reader here will attest, I am a hard lined thinker. So how is it I have been caught up going to one of these modern church-type things? You know the ones; where a bunch of people gather in, what they call, a congregation and proceed to tap their feet along to the stains of Jesus-is-ace types of songs which are pumped out more like a rock concert than appropriate for the pious place it professes to be. Well my beautiful girlfriend is in to it that's why I go really. It's not my cup-of-tea really but I go and I sorta enjoy it--- sorta---- and probably not in the way expected by those who follow the religion. You see , I love the comedy in it. It is a real life comedy. I have trouble holding a straight face while I'm there.

. You see I grew out of this type of thing; probably as soon as I left that horrible Catholic boys school my parents insisted sending me to. I guess I was over it really a bit earlier like when one of those holy brothers put his hand down the front of my pants. Yeah. And when these blokes weren't doing that fine sorta thing then they were thrashing us with leather straps on cold winter's days. Yep that would do it eh? For me it was the great escape from bullshit and bad men. No more constricted thinking--- the word in my mind was not God it was freedom and it was heralded by the angels and trumpets blowing in my mind- Heaven awaited----out there in the real world- not in the horror filled environment called religion. I was a happy vapour trail I tell ya. But somehow at this later stage of my life now, I have been dragged back into the noisy mire of a congregation. And it has become much more noisy than those solemn masses I attended back in the 50' and 60'. I swear it's more like a rock concert/ talk show early on a Sunday morning than a church. The exception is, the music is really really bad as is the musicianship and the talk show is as banal as you get on any day time TV. And there are some clearly more disturbed individuals their than your humble self which is always a bonus

Having said all that you would think that I would find it all fairly horrible to be amongst. But it isn't. How weird is that? It feels entertaining. It's so cringe worthy but it's like junk food, it's made of bad stuff but tastes good. The bad stuff is the myths it is based on being pushed on the damaged or mentally deficient as historical facts but the good taste is in being with your fellow man and woman in a celebration of something bigger than us- and it tastes good. Yep it's cringe worthy, it's childish it's banal, it's out and out silly and stuff that is said takes itself way too seriously but it still feels good.

I guess this would be because the world is caught on the internet- people are alone in their world away from the congregation. The congregation is all that is left where strangers come together in mass and celebrate something. Who cares what it is? If you don't go to one of these then you are caught going to shopping malls to do the same thing. Now that's just plain weird. They are soul-less.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

More belief stuff

Big bang and man coming from apes and a bloke born of a virgin coupla thousand years ago who walked on water and came back from death. Man we will believe anything won't we?  It doesn't matter if science tells us or religion tells us, there are great untruths in both. All these will be revealed over time. This is now and make no mistake we are still very primitive even if you may think we are advanced.

Now, I'm no expert. But I do think I am rational. The things that people expect me to believe because they believe it does not make them the truth. But if you actually say that to them, well you have to go to battle stations. Or at the very least you can expect a drop in level on their preferred persons to be around list. I still will say it- the things you hold as truth today are abandoned beliefs tomorrow. If you do not accept that this is the case then you are not progressive but stagnant. And stagnant water stinks. Read into it what you will.

Looking good

I just read a news article that gave me a sort of intellectual indigestion. It was about looking good when you are nearly 70. It discussed the issue with none other than the beautiful Raquel Welsch

I don't know why I read it but I did and now I feel like I have eaten one too many fatty things. You see I am an artist. I can't help it I was born this way. I look at everything very carefully- everything! I look for the detail in everything. I love detail. I love beauty too. I love it beyond what a normal person would. I am fixated by it maybe. All this is the background to a very challenging existence. Why? Because beauty, once seen, needs to be captured and held-- that's what an artist does. He attempts to capture a moment of beauty and freeze it in an image. That's all very eloquent isn't it? But lets get onto the point here.
As an artist I see great beauty in the way time effects things. You know the stuff; wind erosion against the rock face at the beach, the old Spanish manor with paint peeling off-- the old an overgrown garden it goes on---. So why then don't people see beauty in the ageing face? Well we know why. Sex. Sex ruins it. It pollutes our attitude to our own ageing process. We are like fruit that goes off not humans. And this is so evident by the way women are treated. If they are no longer that perfect ripe but not over ripe fruit then they are caste aside. They are finished with. And what do I mean by finished with? The media drops them like a hot potato at the first sign of a wrinkle.

The media however, is just a reflection of our human ways. If we wander through a shopping mall do we keep our eyes peeled for grannies or do we go around catching fleeting glimpses of those youthful beauties? Even if we didn't wish to behave like that we still feel the compulsion to do it. So ageing is beautiful in all things excepting the the physical human being.

It's nature; can't change it; but you can complain about it. Especially when like me, you are the other side of 50.

So back to my indigestion.