Processing Power

There is a constant need to process data. There is a scary amount of information being thrown in our direction every minute of every day. Pictures, music, facebook posts, phone calls, texts, posters, conversations, movies, TV, I could go on. Back technology alluided to a better kind of armor or a new mill, people didn't have as much to process. Yes they had to process their enviroment, but they could really study it. How many people do you know who can actually tell direction by the stars? How many people do you know who can tell when its going to rain or whether the sun will come out?

Of course we have GPS to tell us directions and Weather.com to tell us when its going to rain. In a way we have gotten better at doing things through technology and in others we have become worse. We know rely on the technology that was built by other people. We now just learn how to use that technology, live with the technology, we have to figure out how to process like the machines that we use to make our world 'easier' to understand. The problem is that perhaps, we really would be better off if we didn't try to act like machines. We're human afterall. We shouldn't rate ourselves based on our processing power.

I wrote a couple of days ago that I gather inspiration from all over. That I process a lot of data and fingure out what is useable. But there are days, like today, when I don't want to process data. I would rather not search for or look for inspiration. I want to exist and interact with things that are tangible, human, and failable. Human reactions are dirty, unpradiable, and take a lot more work then a simple facebook update. But we're not really meant to interact via facebook. It might be a great tool, but you can't replace real community and relationship. Because Facebook lets you get away from the dirt and grim. In life, dirt and grim is a part of who and what we do. We don't really need more processing power, we need to learn when to use the processing power we have and when to use that power for something else: Tangible Life.

Finding Inspiration

The thing about being an artist is that you are consistently looking for inspiration. Things that are fresh and new are built on the foundation of things that are tired and over used. T.S. Elliot said that 'good poet’s barrow, great poets steal'. I feel like I'm forever barrowing ideas, but I hardly ever have the guts to steal. The Greeks had Muses, who gave them inspiration. It’s an interesting concept; that inspiration comes from some mystical, un-seeable force. However, I think inspiration means hard work.


I find my inspiration in knitting patterns, stories I grew up on, new stories I read, movies, music and most importantly online news. I read Wired.com and BBC News everyday at work. I read reviews on new equipment and fill my brain with new knowledge on science and technology, I learn about the history that is being written now in the world. Amazing how much technology can give you a base for imagining a different world. I'm writing a Novel based in a different universe. A universe where there are parallel worlds and a government that is controlling and surveillance heavy. The technology of surveillance is perhaps one of the scariest and most interesting subjects I come a-crossed on regular bases. What's scarier then the government watching you and tracking your every move?

It took me a while to realize that what I take in, what I research for fun, and what I experience in life, is the bases for my creativity. Somehow, from all the information and curiosity of my mind, I am able to create something uniform. The overload of everything floating through the ethos becomes a single stream of conscious thought. All the various ribbons of dancing light gather into one string. What I create is stronger because it is based on so much.

Of course the difficulty in this world where information is only a Google search away, is too much information. You have to decide which information to use and what to throw away. Finding usable inspiration is like finding a needle in a dung heap. T.S. Elliot says to be great you must steal, but I would say a great poet (writer, artist, and performer), must know what to steal. And here we get back to the work. Art, creativity, is something that you have to work at. People are not born with the ability to draw or write or even sing. Sure some have the natural ability to do those things. But its only those who grow and work that ability that ever have a chance to go somewhere. And its a slim chance. Plenty of people with no ability as are working hard to have the same chance. Finding Inspiration is Work.

Darkness Quickening

Darkness Quickening
Darkness awakens
the light may be shimmering
Darkness is waiting
waiting or willing, but holding
Back
the light may be glimmering
Darkness is shadowing
crowding and wondering

Darkness quickening
a line between shadow and
the light may be flickering
Darkness is gathering
clasping and grabing, but growing
Strong
the light may be lustrous
Darkness isn't worried
Darkness is quickening

Long Time Waiting

Amazing how long it has been since I have written to you all. I have been writing. I promise. I been like a greedy child in the corner with a stolen cookie. I'm about 60,000 words into a novel. A novel that has taken most of my writing energy and thought. To be honest the only reason that I am now writing here is because I am, once again, stuck.

Sometimes writing a story is like writing a love letter. You write from your heart. You want the words to be true and fit perfectly. You want the reader to fully understand what you feel. There is a relationship in a letter, a sure connection between the writer and the reader. There is a set understanding of the reality and although there might be questions, you at least both know what the questions are. In a story you must write as if the other person knows the world of which you write. And yet you must also teach them more about your world. Its a strange balance. But more then this writing a story is like writing a letter to the characters you have created. The characters know the world in which they live, they understand what the norm is. The characters know what you tell them and do what you say. But they don't know the author, well not unless the author writes themselves in the story.

So I have been sitting in the corner with my story or my love letter or what ever you want to call it. It is far from finished, but a year a go I at only the begining of it. I had the smallest understanding of the characters and the story. I knew where the story was headed, but the meat was still missing. This year is the year to finish the meat, to get it ready for cooking. At some point I will prepare it and let you all eat up the glorious feast (hope it is worth the wait). To get back to my story is my hope and my nightmare. I can feel that the end is near. I'm cooking and can almost taste the meal. But I'm not there yet.

They call its writters block, but it feels more like trying to get out of the way of a run away train. The story is almost more important now then it ever has been. I am in a way a slave to it. And yet the words, which have so long so easily flowed through my typing fingers, have stopped. I can tell my brain is working out what to do next. I knit and think about the characters and the ending. Yes I'm knitting, have to do something. And I write, even if its just a blog entry or a short poem. Anything to get the words tumbling out of my stuck brain. Anything to get my fingers roaming along the key board. Anything to be able to steal another cookie and return to the corner to sulk with my treasure.