Validation of the Scream

I want to scream everyday. I want words for the screams but I don’t always have them. Maybe I do have them, but my liberal arts education reminds me of how informed I should be before I speak my mind. Should I temporarily censor my feelings and opinions because I fear I might be ignorant to something obvious or important? I do not fear but rather encourage others to talk me down. I am willing to accept another’s opinion, but still must I wait before I scream?

I have offended people my whole life. More so, they were offended by me. I do not seek to hurt a feeling or viciously rub the sand paper against a sore subject. I do mean to rock the boat a little. Life is not stable. The future is wobbly. Why do so many remain conservative in their articulations in an attempt to fake it? We fear extremism. Mind-speakers undermine the authority of governments, more generally they undermine the status quo.

Perhaps the tide is turning. Edward Snowden lives. Wikileaks is published by Hollywood, but who has glorified these saboteurs? The “Mainstream Media.” Is the government being subverted or is it all just part of the game? Ah look at me, today’s scream is turning into a paranoid rant. Let’s rein it in.

What must I consider when I publicly express myself? The audience, of course. I was long under the impression that considering or “knowing” your audience was a process intended to mold one’s expression in an attempt to make it more accessible. Accessibility is quite relative. So I must measure the accessibility of my art based on the composition of my audience. That is, if I seek to reach them, to pull them in, to garner their interest.

I have had a great deal of trouble coming to grips with this, which seems to be a certain reality of my experience. A large part of me seeks to reject it. How can I create and express in the way that I want, in the way that I need, if all I ever do is produce work on terms other than my own. Popular art has been reduced to a conglomeration of advertising campaigns. I will not suffer the same defeat.

With this I propose to future audiences of mine and every other’s expression of art or opinion is that you understand it as it affects the spectacle and as the spectacle intends to affect the spectator, rather than imposing the status quo upon the spectacle and searching for some intolerable deviance that then denies validation for the particular expression. Close your eyes and inhale.

In either case I will be fine. I will continue to consider my audience, but through them I shall seek validation no longer. I will give that to myself.

The First Post

As someone who expresses creatively in the medium of writing, I often find myself at a crossroads in terms of where to start with new material. For example, what do I write about, specifically, how do I go about writing the first post of this blog? Here in this conglomeration of words is my first open and vulnerable offering to the entities and participants of cyberspace, what do I say? Do I write some review of an Ultra-Hip Bourgeoisie Gastro-Pub? Maybe a step by step guide to building a small corner shelf?

My attitude about writing these days is similar to my attitude about food: I don’t care what it is as long as it can be digested. That is to say a few things, 1) I am attempting to write in the direction of my subconscious with some wild assumption that the product will be a more pure form of art and that 2) regardless of the result of my efforts, I am always writing for an audience, and that audience should be able to comprehend or at least be able to create their own interpretation of my work. It is said that one must write and express for themselves but I have also found that if you can’t get other people to understand or at least have an appreciation for the work you are doing, all of this art making becomes seemingly pointless, as the mounds of scribbled on pages begin to pile up in boxes and closets. I have a whole arsenal of material I will probably never show to anyone as long as I am alive, but what good is that doing me? I’m not even talking about that “good” in a monetary sense, I mean in the sense of the satisfaction of expression. It’s like having intense emotions or feelings that you bring all the way up to the back of your teeth and then leave there until someone punches a gap in your mouth and all of it spills out accidentally.

Maybe right now as I write, as we the writer and reader converse, I am speaking around the subject in which I intend to broach. I am having the most difficult time generating content, and every time I get blocked like this, it feels like a wild goose chase trying to diagnose the issue. About a week and a half ago, I was in the midst of a dangerously high fever, hitting temperatures between 102-104, with no break for four days. Now my problems with creating new work now I’d like to blame on the possible brain damage I may have suffered in the midst of such a high fever. The problem with this reasoning is, if I am wondering whether or not I have brain damage, I probably did not suffer any as a result of my temporary condition. So what else is it? I’ll go days on end and cut out all the vices, alcohol, caffeine, cigarettes, etc., in an attempt to “clear my head.” None of this in my current reality has proved to give me any relief from the creative blocks I am suffering from. Maybe that is it. I just need to keep suffering. And suffer harder. I looked back today at a collection of poetry I wrote a few months ago and, if the me then went up to the me now and handed me this work I would tell him to go commit himself, but first I would tell him that this is powerful work you’re doing. It takes a toll on the emotions and I love when I can do that with simply the word on the page.

My anxiety runs deep, it is conniving and now I find, quite silent. In the past it has been the channel through which I feel some of my best work has been produced. Whether to calm it down now or to enflame it in the name of creating more material, I don’t know. I just need to create, and it all must be capable of being digested.