A Mental Rubric

    Just had an interesting conversation with a very optimistic and spunky friend of mine on one of our weekly trips to the library to write and hangout. We talked at some length about memory and the mind, and in classically nerdy fashion, it has got me thinking more about the topic. I contend that the moment is reality and memories are but distortions of that reality. Going further memories are based as much on the person as the event that is being recalled. So with that as a position it would seem logical to focus just on the moment and going forward. Definitely directing mental power towards making the most of what is happening in the moment is of key importance, but...

     As intriguing as the moment is the conundrum is that pure observance of it is impossible. Even in a new environment, given just a little time..., the aesthetics, customs, and people will start to become amalgamated into easier classifications by our mind’s eye. The brilliant writer and thinker Aldous Huxley (of “Brave New World” fame) wrote about this effect in his essay: “The Doors of Perception”. His conclusion is that our brains act as reducers of reality. What he meant by this was that our brain reduces reality, and our perceptions and observances of it, to what we need for survival. These aren’t ancient times however and now most aspects of surviving are catered for through collective society leaving us with reserves of mental energy to apply as we see fit. Maybe that’s why so many people develop mental health issues in modern times – to much mental energy available for reflection and self analysis?

     Whether or not we try to control our thoughts and impressions there is still a vast amount that is beyond us. Individual reality schemas, forged over a life time, will infiltrate the moment regardless of even the most well trained mind’s conviction otherwise. For that reason, I’ve always found it interesting to play with that fact by revisiting the past in the mind’s eye as a means of recreating it fictionally. That’s the essence of an artist; embracing the subjectivity of reality and personalizing that reality in a stylistic way. I’m not talking about changing facts, I’m talking about letting out impressions of what happened – the behind the scenes thoughts that were occurring with real events. These thoughts being recreated breath fictionality and originality to moments that have happened. This is the style many new journalists (Tom Wolfe, Truman Capote) and quasi fiction writers (Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac) have been using for years. We all have the possibility of creating art by just being candid about ourselves and how we see things differently. Like I’ve said in a previous blog (http://iwasjustthinkingsomething.blogspot.com/2011/01/myth-of-perfection.html ) in some people reality refracts in such vivid and interesting ways. So why not have the vivid people portray these refractions in whatever way they can?... it can be through their clothes, the way they talk, or in classical artistic mediums like writing, music, or art. I feel that people have a need to try to express their own uniqueness and not to do such leads to anxiety. I guess all one can do is just try.  The only real judge that matters in terms of what is produced  is oneself anyway...

    

The Art of Poverty

     One of the amusing paradoxes of our times is the fact that when you are making money often you don’t have time to spend it. And when you have time, you don’t have money to spend... I guess that’s why “normal” people take little vacations and drop obscene amounts of money in that short window of time they have to do it. I’ve found from experience that there is something just a little mystical about being a bit impoverished. Not saying it’s an experience to strive for, if you strive for it – it’s easy enough to get, or want as it is hard, but...  Lots of great writers went through it: Jack Kerouac, George Orwell, and my personal hero: Henry Miller. They used the experience to drive their prose. What is it about getting to the end of one’s tether with money that so often is the impedes of art?

    Poverty and the serene aren’t mutually exclusive. Now I should establish that I can speak on this issue having been near rock bottom before during my travels a couple of times in the UK, Australia, and the Netherlands. Each of these times I found that life became so much more serene. Bear with me, you must be wondering what the fuck is this guy going on about...?  I’ll explain. When beyond a lark, ones means of securing food and shelter come into question those two issues eventually become the only issues. There’s a comfort in that. The secondary concerns, the concerns I would say often feel like the daily strangle hold, those such as: relationship issues, questions of self, that nagging question: what to do with my life..., all fade away. That is where the serenity comes into play – pure focus on meeting these goals is a focus unlike any other. There is no time to contemplate the deeper concerns; poverty is a reprieve from the questions of self.

Movie Review: "Conan the Barbarian"

“Conan the Barbarian” (1 out of 6 Stars)

   After only thirty years Robert E Howard’s “Conan the Barbarian” comes to us again. The original “Conan the Barbarian” starring a young Arnold Schwarzenegger was a far superior film that had an epic quality. This version is just a tedious revenge film minimal on story, character, and intrigue.

   In Cimmeria the Northern Lands of the mythical world of Hibernia Conan is born “literally” right on a battle field.  By ten years old Conan, already a junior killing machine, has his world turned upside down when war lord Khalar Zim comes to his village in search of a mysterious mask. This mask, for reasons left a little vague, will give Zim the ultimate power to rule Hibernia. Escaping, but seeing his father and his tribe slaughtered before him Conan swears vengeance. The rest of the film an older Conan, played by hulking Hawaiian Jason Momoa : chases Zim, fights Zim, chases Zim, fights in quick succession Zim’s chief lieutenants, chases Zim, then fights Zim again. Mix in Tamara (Rachel Nichols) - Conan’s love interest - a beautiful girl, whose blood is needed to complete Zim’s ritual with the mask, and you have the essential cliché components for a run of the mill, boorish summer release.

    My verdict is that you should skip this one. If you are interested in Sword and Sorcery check out Momoa’s other project HBO’s “Game of Thrones” instead. “Game of Thrones” has the epic feel that Conan wishes it could emulate combined with a more interesting, realistic fantasy world. If you still choose to see Conan despite my misgivings the only saving graces are “decent”, but over wrought action sequences and a nice aesthetic look for Hibernia.

    In earnest, I found myself wanting the last fight, which went on and on..., to just end so I could leave the theatre. Not a good sign for any film. Only check this out if mindless action is your thing. I can’t recommend this to fans of the Conan franchise either as this felt more like Hollywood’s Hibernia then anything Robert E Howard would have envisioned.

Maybe a Red Corvette

    Yesterday I achieved one of my life goals by seeing Prince perform live outdoors in Copenhagen. He was everything I knew he would be – a little singing, dancing purple dynamo... one part entertainer, another part little perfectionist general. Mid song, he would bark out orders to the sound engineer: “guitar down... more, please. “ Then pause... “I said guitar down – it isn’t happening yet. Guitar down, and raise the microphone.” A moment later he would be handing his guitar away and going to the drums to play for a bit, then the keyboard... The purple one was everywhere, a whirling dervish of mascara, high notes, and dry one liners. The majority of the show was an elaborate jam with his trademark funky grooves pouring over the crowd of flailing bodies. A Danish friend described the crowd right then as “hyggeligt” the unique Danish word for comfortable or cozy. It was...



“Nothing I love more than a warm summer night” says Prince as a real sexy mellow grove begins.”Uwwwwww... (in his trade mark high pitched voice) better not sing that. Someone’s going to end up pregnant.” The entire crowd burst out laughing. Another memorable one liner: “You’ve got to stand for something, or else you'll fall for everything.” All night he was playing to the crowd - in one moment hilarious and the next cool. He looked young too; if this guy is 50 either he has found the fountain of youth or got a little touch up surgery.  



Two hours plus of music hit its Crescendo with a rousing rendition of Purple Rain. With arms around my friends we sang every word. It seemed the show was over; an appropriate, if not a little cliché..., end had been reached. The stage went dark the curtain had fallen... but, NO it wasn’t done. The silence broke and that cheeky little voice was back on the microphone. “You didn't think we I leaving yet. Did ya? What y’all want to hear...? You can tell me. Uh, uh, uh... not all at once, I can’t make out 20,000 suggestions. I know it’s tough... we got so many hits!” People laugh but the funniest thing was that he wasn’t lying - he has to many hits to pick from. I was a little sad "Raspberry Beret" didn't have its time in the sun. Alas...



The last song of the night ended up being an extended version of “Kiss.” He let people from in front of the stage come up and dance. People came close to his backup singers. One girl even shared the microphone with one of them but no one had the nerve to try that with Prince. How could they...?, he still has undeniable star power, it seeps off him, and coming close enough to touch is just something that isn't done - it defies any international conception of good manners. The show tailed off with crackling fireworks as the band played on. I heard later Prince had arranged an after party so he could play even more. This man loves music, he lives and personifies it. His voice still hits the high notes with his trademark uhhhhhs and uwwwwws... He was, and still is, a true legend. This morning the sweet residue of a good night remained. “Maybe a Red Corvette, uwww, uwwww... this love is happening to fast.... 
 

The Vicious Circle

    I’m sure many people reading this are in a relationship, it may be a good one - maybe not. All the same, I feel like giving a few of my own thoughts about that most difficult of things – pairing up romantically. From what I’ve observed in other guys, girls and myself it’s certainly not an easy task. The main issue is the blame game... each gender blames the other for the pairing not working based on their previous experience. Now being male, I’ll look more so from the male point of view, but please be aware that I feel most of these concepts can be reversed to the female perspective too.

     An ugly aspect of attraction is how attention seems to have the effect of pushing things away while disinterest is a draw. Most people are interested in what they can’t have, not what they could... The allure is towards that person whom seems unattainable. Sadly with time a majority of people buy into this illusion and start creating artificial personas for themselves in their clothes and attitude. These facades might have some positive effects for that person in the short term, but in the long term it’s devastating as it hides their true selves away.

      It’s a myth that guys don’t have feelings and emotions... I’ve had thousands of conversations with guys over the years, of all types..., and there is lots of feeling there. Trust me. Pretty much every guy, I’ve ever met wants to end up with one girl not just fuck around and have meaningless sex forever. Of course if this was easy, everyone would be together happily and people wouldn’t be getting divorced.  With that said – lots of young guys are thrown off by our homogenized mass culture where the good guy is shown getting the girl. Being the chivalrous knight in white armour is cool on paper, but the results are lacking. Invariable this strategy back fires, it’s to heavy handed, it doesn’t comport to animal attraction and pushes away the girl.

      Where the real damage comes though is when a guy really likes one girl... The effect of doing the “right” things, entering a relationship, and that failing is incalculable. Sleepless nights and pointed personal questions aimed at one’s own character will be the result. This moment’s permanent effect differs, but a lot of guys will create a shield to prevent the same from occurring again. He will not let himself get attached in order to protect himself. Naturally this has the effect of driving the girl wild if she cares for him; a reaction that perversely devalues her in his eyes and makes him lose interest.

     Where the vicious circle comes into play is that a guy is hurt by a girl and becomes aloof and uncaring. In a justified response the girl becomes hurt too and reacts similarly by erecting her own shield... and what we now have is a really ugly, perpetuating cycle. People are coming up against the other person’s baggage, defences, and facades rather than the real person.  This cycle based mainly on power games and not getting hurt comes before people know each other on real terms.  Throw in the raw and incalculable power of sexual attraction, in both cases: when it’s there and when it’s not, and it’s easy to see just how wild this game is...  So why play right??? Simple: “You can’t win if you don’t play.” And with that said what choice do we have...?

One Hundred People, One Hundred Minds...

     I’m at a friends place near the beach in Copenhagen. As usual at a party a lap top is out and everyone is trying their hand at being a DJ. The group is really diverse so music choices are difficult...  To make matters worse there are a few music snobs in attendance. You know those types, their music - usually underground rock - is brilliant while everyone else’s more mainstream taste is rubbish. Eventually it got to the point that I didn’t even want to try to choose a song for fear of reprisal. The point I have here is just how different everyone really is. Music, like the taste of food, is totally subjective and is based on feelings they illicit for each individual person. A person’s taste in these areas can be expanded, but it’s nearly impossible to change. The best way to verbalise my ideas here is to steal the words of the wise DJ at the wedding I was at in Slovenia. When describing how hard it is to make everyone happy with wedding music he had the following to say. “One hundred people, One hundred minds”.

      The way a person sees reality is not learned, it’s inherent. I always loved the way Robert M Pirsig in his great book “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Mechanics” summed it all up.  “Everyone is either a Platonist or an Aristotelian. People who can't stand Aristotle's endless specificity of detail are natural lovers of Plato's soaring generalities. People who can't stand the eternal lofty idealism of Plato welcome the down-to-earth facts of Aristotle.” To help clarify this point, I want to bring up a great conversation I had with an old friend last week in Slovenia. Now first things first, the two of us see the world in totally different ways. He is a quintessential how to person; how do I do this, how do I build this, how does it work. He is hard wired in the moment - an Aristotelian. Me, on the other hand, can sit in a room and completely disappear into my mind. I’ll take the time, to think about things. In this way I am living in the past, present and future simultaneously... and making connections between the three at once. I’m theorizing, thinking, dreaming - a classical Platonist. My friend and I, both being open minded, actually see this massive difference as a strength to tap in each other. We both have agreed, we could use an injection of the others thinking style. Unfortunately, our maturity in this matter, does not always spill over to everyone.

     What I’m getting at here is that even if we’ll never be able to agree on tastes, or how the world is.... we still have to do our best to respect other points of view no matter how alien they might seem. Sitting in a room of people that think and act the same as you do is reassuring, but it hardly lets a person grow. Further, it’s the group pressure to act in ways one is not naturally that is one of the chief engines in many people’s unhappiness. If there was ever a reason, I took to all of these travels it was to see myself grow inside, to become more accepting, and become less sure of just how things are. Difference is what gives the world it’s colour, and really it is always what I'll be interested in.

A Slovenian Wedding

 Sitting here drinking cappuccino after cappuccino scrawling into my notebook about the wedding I've just attended. I'm in shambles after getting in at 8 am last night after a post wedding party in  Ljubljana's free town Metelkova.

   The location of the wedding was beyond idyllic. The sumptuous bounty of nature our senses feasted on was equal to anything Canada could offer. On the terrace a top of Lake Bled Castle you could peer down and see aqua blue, crystal clear water with swimmers and boats dotted across its length. Competing for attention from the lake the background showcased magnificent, expansive hills covered by thick forest. This is the spot where the beginnings of the newly weds lives was celebrated and in earnest it was as good a spot as could be imagined, words don't do it justice. 

   When I looked over the wedding pictures this afternoon one stood out. In the picture, I could see my mate peering into his brides eyes obviously sharing a moment together as they were showered with rice. Fifteen minutes previous during the non religious service the orator had given us some words of wisdom on life and love. Afterwards everyone, including the bride and groom, would snicker how cheesy these words were. These wisdoms were highlighted by expressions like “love is a dove flying on the wings of a ray of light”, and “love stands, strives, and perseveres no matter what.” Sure it does... and all this delivered without a hint of irony and a straight face. The cynic inside of me grinned while hearing this. These words might as well be bullets shooting holes through this concept called love with their pompousness. 

    One look at the picture I speak of went past such silly utterances, it doesn't need the paltry perversion of words, it's inherent and intuitive – these people are in love and even with divorced parents I believe they are going to make it. The connection in their gaze is inspiring. Maybe it's my romantic nature at work, but somehow I know they will.