streaming consciousness…

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  hardie karges 9:21 am on June 28, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: ART ( 8 ), wriing   

  Writing languishes behind the other arts, 

  especially painting, as if a picture were really worth a thousand words. Nevermind, it’s all the same really, the will to express forming scratches on the slate of experience directly or indirectly like drug-induced orgasm or the real thing in all the glorious lugubriousness of its meanderthal mess. You get the point regardless, if you’re lucky, if there really is a point, to all the lines holding hands forming meanings in the minds of men whether the critics approve or not.

   

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  hardie karges 8:05 am on June 27, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: life ( 33 ), WRITING ( 13 )   

  Stories have convenient beginnings, middles, and endings; 

  life itself has nothing of the sort. Half thoughts and misfired synapses jockey for position in a bubble of consciousness defined only by memory and bordering on infinity. Stop re-normalizing equations; maybe mass is infinite at the speed of light. I sell my soul to sell my self, writing little stories to try to amuse the masses and still can’t get past the dead-letter file, so f%$# it. I’ll write what I want, maybe my unborn progeny will appreciate it some day, the ravings of a 21^st century lunatic, legend in his own mind, lover of women and brother of men. I try to create meaning in a world that doesn’t necessarily have any. I try to do for paper what Picasso did for canvas, make love to it, then spurt my juices on its surface as my supreme gift. The only question is: do nouns and verbs accurately describe human existence? Is a picture really worth a thousand words? What are words worth on the open market anyway?
   
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  hardie karges 7:15 am on June 26, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: Add new tag ( 2 ), WRITING ( 13 )   

  The nice thing about ‘automatic writing’ 

  is that there’s never any writer’s block because there’s no structure anyway. It should be word-jazz like be-bop, open the gates and let out all the chickens and scaredy-cats that’ve been cooped up since consciousness sprouted from seed in the fertile soil at the crossroads where attraction meets imagination and the algebra of need meets the geometry of desire. I don’t even have my glasses on so won’t know most of my typographic errors until later. Forget centrality, theme, whatever, everything but meaning. The only worthwhile goal of writing, of anything for that matter, is to find meaning in a world that doesn’t necessarily have any.

   
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  hardie karges 12:22 pm on June 25, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: ART ( 8 ), life ( 33 )   

  Forget plot. Life is the plot. 

  Everything else is pretentious pretense. One’s obra maestra is one’s life. The only art involved is to express the various elements that comprise one’s self in new and original combinations. Combination is the essence of art. Nothing is truly original. The same ideas occur at similar times in diverse places given similar situations to work within in an ever-contracting world. The challenge is to lose your self in your work, like creating a child from bodies destined to die, the child itself destined to die, immortality only achieved in the long run from past to future viewed by a mind’s eye too myopic to know that the concept itself is its only limitation. Lose yourself and find the path, a path, any path with heart that embraces infinity without embracing its limitations.

   
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  hardie karges 6:35 am on June 24, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: WRITING ( 13 )   

  Nothing inspires like a deadline. 

  Just got to write it down while I still remember it; just got to write it down before the game ends. “Write what you know.” The only thing anyone really knows is his own life, the jumble of perceptions, emotions, thoughts, and memories that constitute the phenomena of a human existence, the internal half of one of the higher apes homo sapiens sapiens, walking this planet in the path of his ancestors, lost in self-reflection.

   
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  hardie karges 6:38 am on June 23, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: WRITING ( 13 )   

  Automatic writing, 

  mind on auto-pilot, contact improvisation; everything is related to the things that came before, and nothing is related to the center, because there is none. Character development is fun if it’s a real character. I hate making shit up. Why expend time creating and developing new characters when so little is done with the characters that already exist? The ‘abstraction’ gene gets its way, I guess. The need to universalize and ultimately, teach, is part of the human makeup. It’s better than mascara. If words could connect to each other above and below as well as before and after, then that would be interesting, certainly better than much of the artsy-fartsy manipulations extant in the current publications, the next best thing to another dimension.

   
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  hardie karges 9:33 am on June 22, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: WRITING ( 13 )   

  DANGLING PARTICIPLES 

  I don’t do flower arrangements, a word here and a comma there, a male noun dangling here and a female verb down under just waiting to swoop up to the rescue in an elaborate choreography of stoic feminism and poetic justice. If these are the nuts and the bolts of the trade, the arts and farts of culture, then maybe I’ll just have to content myself with the rhythms of natives, the beats of the past, and the music of the dispossessed, in order to maintain some integrity of purpose. Maybe art is a plaything of the rich and I’ll admit that I never wanted to be a starving artist. But language is at a disadvantage, because people use it for mundane purposes also. The average bloke doesn’t paint landscapes. Everybody writes. To rise above, pretense demands elaborate editorial gymnastics to maintain the inherited class system. Life itself is an art form, of course, and the essence of art is combination, bringing diverse elements into unique juxtaposition. Nothing is truly original. Balance is the hard part, as always, carefully crafting the finished product so that it is ‘just so’. ‘Stuff’ cannot be defined; you’ve either got it or you don’t. In other words, “Don’t call us; we’ll call you.”

   
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  hardie karges 7:32 am on June 21, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: POETRY ( 12 )   

  THE MATTER WITH POETRY 

  Poetry is like meditation, going to great lengths to avoid direct thought. They say the secret to good poetry is to not editorialize. I say ‘fuck that’. EDITORIALIZE! Tell me what you think, tell me what you know! I don’t care what color the sky is when the sun rises in the east and I already know what every animal does the first chance they get. I want to know what humans think about every possible condition that arises in the short span of human existence. I want to know what drove you to such an extreme in the first place, that you settled for this medium in the second place. I want to know how old you were when you first contemplated suicide. I want to know how old you were when you first contemplated homicide. I want to know what you see in your mind’s eye in that thin gray area between the waking state and full sleep, that fitful profusion of images looking for dreams to rescue them from their homeless condition, before that long nod of numbness slowly sinks into a body too tired for tears, too wired and weird.

   
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  hardie karges 7:57 am on June 20, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: POETRY ( 12 ), WRITING ( 13 )   

  WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW 

  Here’s writing fit for public consumption. There’s no politics nor science, no physics nor evolution, no cuss words nor sex, no spicy pickled metaphors, no right nor wrong, no meaning, no nothing, just letters holding hands forming words forming phrases going to market, staying home, having roast beef, having none, and making the funny sounds of verbal contentment all the way home. I’m ready to celebrate the mundane, revel in the morning blush on the evening primrose, and revel in the morning blush on my wife’s face. I’m ready to publicly mourn the birth of my dog and the death of my dad, exult in the toothless smile of a bum and the toothless smile of a lad. Nobody wants cosmic poems pretending to fathom the heights of quantum physics or wallow in the death of suicidal despair. It fails to inspire and it’s just not civilized. Still photography is my role model, cool remote and serene. I want to paint with words, watercolors and oils according to the mood. I wish I could write other people’s poems. I wish I could arrange flowers elaborately, poems in the shape of chalices and goblets, valises and vases, all containing internal logic, hard-wired beauty. I want to get out of my rut and get into a groove. Alas I’m stuck in my own body, trapped in my own mind, doing the best I can one day at the time. I can’t write other people’s shit; I can only write my own.

  leafless is discussing. Toggle Comments

   
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    leafless 10:18 am on June 20, 2008 Permalink | Reply

    I like your manifesto. Some interesting lines.

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  hardie karges 8:12 am on June 19, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: MUSIC ( 8 ), video ( 2 )   

  EmptyVee 

  MTV is rapidly evolving from illustrated songs to Hollywood shorts, complete or incomplete with ‘pretty girl singers’ wearing little but shorts, crotch meat for the famished affections. Nevertheless, it’s an opportunity for a new art format. If only someone could see the connection between illustrated songs and sonically sweetened pictures, then there might be something there. Of course very few music videos qualify as anything remotely resembling art, while many short films do. Considering how much teen-culture crap serves as filler for music video channels, removing that should leave room for both music and film. The ideal way, certainly, would be to have only the best of both, or maybe the ‘edgiest’, thus bringing the two fields closer together. Considering the dubious trend of using the film industry and music industry to promote each other’s most pathetic commercial instincts, any new creative approach would be welcome. The widespread use of pop songs to decorate movies, regardless of true applicability, is bad enough without the movies now decorating the songs.