Tuesday, August 01, 2006

I remember when it was the easiest thing in the world to find the answers in song lyrics. I really identified with the emotions in Steve Perry's voice when he sang about love, because "I'd do anything...to hold you...I'd do anything...to touch you...I'd do anything you want me to, if you'd just...stay with me a while". I really knew that Prince was in anguish when he was singing, "Do you want him, or do you want me? Cuz I want youououou..." It was all pretty damned easy. Yeah, it was high school. And the things that mattered aren't even necessarily on my radar anymore. And why am I thinking like this? See the earlier post.

Then later, it was the words in books that had all of the answers. Kafka for a while. Then Marquez. Then Proust. Then I realized that they were just words. And the struggle to make a string of words mean a damned thing was universal. And only the right time and place made the whole thing click for me. Otherwise it was just a page full of words. Not exactly empty, but not containing any real significance, either.

And then it was art. I made art with a sense of compulsion and determination that brooked no alternatives. I created myself into a corner. I had a choice to make. So I copped a plea and let myself out of art jail. No parole. No going back. I am not an artist. It was driving me crazy. Not in a good way. It was a one way trip. And I blinked. It wasn't important enough. It got me through many hard years. But it just wasn't where I wanted to be forever. Because it would've been alone. No way I was going to be in any livable state if things continued. The burnout had already begun. I got better.

Now, I don't know where the hell the answers are. All certainty has been cast aside. I've never been one for a grandiose leap of faith- seemed a tad egotistical to me. Like my decision really had some kind of global significance. That's fairy tale stuff to me. My soul is my own. And it certainly has its own shape and methodology. But the answers? Damned if I know. Damned if I don't know. That's not to say that uncertainty is a bad place to be. There isn't any real urgency to find the answers. There' s no Holy Grail at the end of the journey. Just like there isn't a princess on a mountain of glass. Those are kid's stuff. What there is is the deep quiet that I can now access when I'm trying to get to sleep at night. Without medical aids I can actually sink there more nights than not, and it's like going home. I'll take that over the manic and the manufactured any day.

3 comments:

(S)wine said...

those "words" always helped me.
for some reason, they never ever were just empty or not containing any real significance. i go back to those men from time to time. Kafka, especially. and Camus. they help to pull me up out of the hole. even at their own, unfortunate expense.

slyboots2 said...

I'm just saying that the words don't have the strength they once had. Perhaps that's grounds to pity me. I don't know. I gotta depend on something within now- because it's all I have left. I still read them, but the resonance isn't the same.
Funny though- a good Jimmy Stewart movie can do the trick from time to time...try Harvey on for size when the chips are very down.

(S)wine said...

ah now, you don't have to defend what those boys do for you, or don't. movies do it just as well, for me too.