(I’m realizing after 5 posts the difficulties of maintaining this blog and how much easier it is to go out or watch a movie or read something than it is to thoughtfully write. But I guess there’s so much to think and say... there always is.)
Weekends are always something. I find it interesting… compartmentalizing days into groups of seven and then having two of them act as socially established “rest days”: the two days when working people have leisure to do what they desire, or not, depending on who they are and what responsibilities their lives have captured. Light from the moon has shined brightly this past weekend, however my elderly dog sure couldn’t notice. My experience this weekend comprised of friends, playing music, and bars, two of which were great while the latter lagged just enough for me to notice.
I felt like I was in a zoo, but I guess that’s not so wrong considering that’s kind of what it was. Drinking away our inhibitions so we can blabber about nothing, people, events, what someone said, and all the other bullshit the eats up the content of our language as if it were the first meal it had consumed in months. And in bars, everyone tries to look cool despite the fact that they resemble rambling rodents, (the idea of cool being relative anyway). However it’s not just in bars that this happens, it’s everywhere. So the problem is not as much with places of social gathering or alcohol consumption as it is with social values, maybe, and how they can control us. I’m not really sure what I mean or where I’m heading with this but it just feels like all the helpless singles in bars looking for love or sex or good conversation or whatever would be better off getting what they truly desired if they, well, actually did what they truly desired. It just seems like people go because people go. In other words, it is what people do, and that’s why more people do it… a complicated way of saying “conforming”. Maybe I was the only one that didn’t want to be there wasting away my precious moments looking around and listening to ridiculously insubstantial conversations between people (some of which I was admittedly a part of), but it feels like that couldn’t have been the case. People must wake up the next morning and yearn for something more, right? I do. The experience itself, though, was rather rewarding. The whole “fly-on-the-wall” feeling is comforting in a way (and I did have other flies there with me), probably because I enjoy watching people and simply observing. Once again I find hypocritical elements in myself, for it is immensely difficult to not conform and to carve a separate path. It wouldn’t be worth it if it were easy though.
Moving backwards in time, making music, as it always is, was great. Sometimes moments occur when everything fits together perfectly like a bunch of confused puzzle pieces somehow melting into place at unexpected times. I think that’s what a large element of making meaningful art or music is all about, or really anything rooted in communal improvisation (film, dance, writing, acting, photography, drawing, painting, anything really). These single moments of magic that can never be exactly replicated serve to inspire an abundance of creative thought, and then the energized passion moves in all unexpected directions. Yet they’re inexplicable and just come out of nowhere, or maybe some invisible energy that exists between people that mystically finds its home for a brief moment and decides to express its gratitude to the outer world. And consequently pure and natural creativity becomes manifested. Either way, it’s both empowering and humbling to feel a part of. When musically improvising with a group it feels like I’m dancing around digging for these moments, and when they come it’s often overwhelming. The momentum washes over like a passing wave and everyone rides it into bliss. And just like a wave, it will never last forever, but will always be uniquely replicated.
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