A Blog? Really?
Who am I and what sort of horrendously self important notions are taking place that I feel the need to start a blog, floating gibberish under the noses of poor folk who haven’t even asked for it, for what reason? To store my incomplete scraps of half finished waffle and fleeting moments of perceived inspiration into one place because I think they are worthy of an audience when I haven’t even had the good decency to finish them off in my own time!? Maybe I need an end destination for all this stuff just to finish it at all? Is that what this is? An attempt to force myself into concluding some stuff? Maybe its some other, less romantic motive? What’s the deal here? You don’t open a restaurant unless you think you can cook right? Surely there has to be some intrinsic narcissism at work here?
I think of myself as a private person by nature, in fact, so upsetting usually is the idea of having to upkeep or maintain any platform supposedly representing my life in view of the public that I’ve never even had a face book, yes I know! A whole generational movement missed out on, the biggest community in history a click of a button away sharing mass moments of togetherness, collectiveness on the grandest scale imaginable, a civilization changing social movement which I really couldn’t have been bothered with, the 16 year old punk rocker in me likes to think he’s “living off the grid maaaan”, even if the older one might feel a bit disconnected from the buzz of it all and his finger a little off the pulse at times, but then I’ve seen Ylvis the Fox and I’m ok with not being on the front line, I really am, here on my island for now, my visiting friends tell me all the important stuff without me having to experience the horrors up there at the trenches of the viral battlefield.
So surely to god I’m not becoming one of the awful crazies, hell bent on designing and distilling some tinsel covered stream of faux reality into the faces of others, hoping that the pondered, edited, scripted flow of on screen narration will comes across as the spontaneous, fun fest they hope their lives will appear to be, like the drenched, shaking parents on the holiday from hell screaming for everyone to smile in the family photograph on the pier, too proud and obsessed with what image they bring home to their friends to admit defeat.
Conversely am I so full of to the brim with ego that I genuinely think that I have some wisdom to don onto the world? Some nuggets of knowledge or life skills to impart onto planet earth that someone else hasn’t already conceived? I’m still struggling to figure it out myself, but it’s certainly none of the above. So I guess, maybe, it could be this. I really like to make things, in fact I’ve based my entire life so far on that idea, making songs, or pictures, or photographs, making stories, or making albums, whatever I can, it’s a compulsion, my parent and brothers and sister are the same, its what I would do if I were on my own on a desert island, the unstoppable need to draw a face on the table in the spilt salt. But I like to think I do it all only for me, for fulfillment, because that’s how I’m built and why my plan has always been to only do the things I feel a compulsion towards, to make those things my career, my hobbies, my recreation, the whole shebang, but whether the compulsion is musical, visual, literary, conceptual, anything, its all just ideas taking different forms, and an idea is the coolest thing of all, something which didn’t exist and then all of a sudden did, whether a good one or a bad one its still yours and you put it into the world, the single most amazing characteristic we have, conjuring something out of thin air, what you do with that idea is up to you, but the compulsion to leave some trace or proof of its existence is inherent, to share an idea is instinctual. Mostly I record mine with a guitar and sometimes it gets pressed onto a piece of vinyl, or sometimes I program it in a computer and upload it to a Souncloud, sometimes I print it out and put it in a frame and hang it on a wall, so I’m thinking maybe with this TumblrI’m just finding a home for the homeless runts and unwanted freaks of the ideas litter, the scribbles and the notions, just content knowing they have somewhere to live for now. Like I said I wouldn’t open a restaurant unless I was pretty sure I was a good enough cook, so I wont, but if you just enjoy cooking then maybe its ok to share your grub with others incase someone has the same weird taste as you?
