October 13th, 2001

self portrait (escher)

stagnation

My computer's acting up again this morning, freezing when I try to access the display properties. This has happened before, though. I think I removed the video drivers and everything was good again when it rebooted. That didn't work this time, though. So, I went poking through my journal to see if I'd left myself any clues from last time this happened. Not really, though I did dig up some interesting notes on how to make the situation worse. Perhaps I'll try that next.

Anyway, the last post I made on the subject was one month ago today, and it listed off (or at least hinted at) all the projects the situation interfered with. It corresponded rather closely to my priority to-do list at the time.

It's a whole month later. Not one of them is done.

That's not to say I've had a nothing month. Far from it. But I'd sure like to be moving faster...
  • Current Mood
    morose morose
self portrait (escher)

poetic license

Not sure what posessed me to rev up the old abstract poetry generator today, but the results were particularly strong. Figured I'd clean up the formatting a bit and share:

    The way I produce, still...

    "Wake up" at least hinted at work, the lure of it turns out.
    I, those in the list, and a sliding block puzzle.
    But he wants to school.

    If I, the critically acclaimed modernization of his chair, to be low density.. Holding a family was earlier, at the washing machine; and chickens for hours, and it almost seems going through my father is done.

    Overpowering "Why"
    Tell my group.

    I'm compressing my obsession with his death?
I haven't actually written any poetry in... seven years, I think. Used to be pretty good at it. I had a reading back at CalArts. It was cool.

I've written some lyrics, and I like to think there's some poetry to them, but that really is a seperate artform. Poetry is self contained.

Truth is, there's no market for poems anymore, unless they're illustrated and make children laugh. There's no profit to be found in making grown-ups think.

At least, that's the belief. I have no idea if there's any truth to it. But it's always felt like certain knowledge. If you want to make people think, you have to sneak up on them; bury your message in something palatable.

It bothers me how much commerce plays into my artistic decisions. I mean, I've never worked on something I don't believe in because it would sell, but I've certainly put aside projects because they wouldn't. It's like natural selection, but with the most unnatural factor determining what's fit.

So, poetry falls by the wayside.

** sigh **

It's just ironic that the computer is free to express itself in ways that I am not.
  • Current Mood
    tired tired