S T R E A M # 3 1

Start: So I unplugged the beastly bitch and twenty-four hours later her touch pad is working again. Go frakking figure. So maybe? Here on? I’ll just leave her unplugged when I’m done with her. And yet keeping her plugged should NOT be the cause of her touch pad’s misbehavior. What’s more, I’ve got her jacked into an expensive surge protector. Whatever. And that lamp in Pop’s room? The one bedside near the window? Its bulb crackles. I screwed in one of those compact florescent “energy saving” bulbs and it started crackling after I hooked up the new digital TV tuner converter box. There isn’t any legitimate relationship between the converter box and the lamp. Ok, ok, they kinda-sorta share the same electrical outlet—but that’s all. Actually, the box is plugged into a power strip with the TV but the lamp is plugged directly into the wall. What’s more, the treadmill fraks up the digital signal. Whenever I slide a lever on the treadmill—whether to up the incline or increase the speed—the digital signal on the TV freezes up. It’s kind of neat but it gets annoying. I just want things to work. The fridge works. Both TVs work. My Daewoo works. My Mac works (well, better than the Dell). Bottom line: Everything should work as well as the TV and the fridge. Both the TV and the fridge, they’re both over ten years old – so I’m expecting havoc from them, I’m expecting them to break down. What wonderful writing this is, huh? How exciting! Oy. I’m running late. You may’ve noticed. I wanted to get this out of the way before I moved on to the “real” writing of the day. Always, always, this is supposed to be a warm up. But I’m running out of time to get to the “real” thing. So, yeah, sorry. No, that’s right, I’m not putting much effort into this “stream.” Well, you get what you pay for—unless you over pay. Or unless you get a bargain. Bargains are frequently rip-offs, though. But I’m very excited about my next podcast. I’ve only got about thirty seconds laid down, but it’s pretty intense. Seems I’m getting away from the personal monologue stuff. I think I’m gonna focus more on the music and the creation of a soundscape. It’ll likely be even more abstract and absurd than what I’ve got out there now. Either way, it’s gonna be a whole lot more intense. I’m jacking up the tempo. I’m really gonna push it. That, and I’m gonna try to restrict myself to pieces that won’t run longer than five minutes. The folks over at [REDACTED] seem to like “The Amazing Drool-Man” and “Four a.m.” So that’s the direction I’ll head in. They seem to like the dirtier stuff, too – although they loved “Candy,” which isn’t dirty at all. Of course, everything is subject to change. Everything is subject. Whenever I make a declaration of personal fact or belief, I always, always find a way to betray it. Always, always. But everything is subject. Always, always. A true artist will not be contained. The artist, by nature, is rebellious. The non-artist—id est, the critic—aims to limit and contain and categorize. The critic aims to put a thing in its place. The critic doesn’t want to be troubled with it (or by it). But an artist, by nature, is a trouble-maker. Non-artists grant themselves (false) importance because (mistakenly and tragically) they believe that they can pass judgment and then move on. The point is to categorize (id est, subject) and then move on. Passing judgment gives the critic (id est, the non-artist) a false sense of self-validation, a false sense of superiority. Particularly if you’re male and heterosexual. Always, always. Validation via domination. The non-artist uses sport and sex and spending to validate their existence. But the act of creation is validating. The act of freely exerting great amounts of energy is validating. Exert until you exhaust. Like mounting Everest. And the climber (overtly or otherwise) proudly proclaims: “I’M BETTER THAN YOU ‘CAUSE I’VE MOUNTED EVEREST.” What poppycock. On its own, the act of stripping down, nailing down, and categorizing, is deadly – unless, of course, it serves the function of self-improvement. This, too, is validating. And absurd. On the other hand, there’s something to be said about stripped-down minimalism. Don’t take it from me. Take it from Chuck. Either way, all is folly. Bottom (and then some) reached. 
27 June 2008

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