Saturday, November 13, 2010

Memories become individual dreams, and dreams began as mixed memories.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Another Rant coming soon, about the Internet, and how it "Saves" Us

Little Rant on 11/9/10 about, well, read it!

Just a quick rant here.  I need to write this down or I'll just forget, until I remember it again and then forget again later.  Life.  What a word that it, but it's only a word.  I've come to understand and believe that words, and language, no matter what the word or language one says and speaks, really is just filtered information.  This can't be anything new.  There truly is NO way to fully express one's feelings, thoughts, creativity, by just saying it.  It can take so much time and years just to get a thought out there.  Now, if one spends years writing books or poems or making a movie, that's a bit different because you are really making that language into an art form, because you write it, fix it, rewrite it or you film it, edit it, add graphics, special effects, etc. and voila!  You've got a story and movie that people can digest in an couple of hours like in the given time of a movie, or a book, depending on how fast one reads.  But all that work that one puts into something that enormous of a project is completely overlooked when someone is watching a movie or reading that book.  When I was a teenager, movies were fantastic!  There was this element that worked every part of my emotions.  It was alive!  Same with books.  Now, movies and books still make me feel awesome, but not so much as before I found out how many people work on movies, and how much of a budget it costs, that it takes years of exhausting labor and fine tuning that God should be taking notes on how much work is done.  And when done right, it shows within that 2 to 3 hour timeframe.  Books are similar also.  How you have to write it all down, your idea, and then do draft after draft, get a copyrighter, editor, then make sure all the grammar is good, by using just a few ingredients of letters to form words into sentences into paragraphs into chapters into books, leading right down the path to the end of the story.  It's truly exhausting.  So we all know this, right?  So I ask, what about day to day language?  For example, when I talk to someone about a certain event that happened the night before during work, I don't have time to plot out my story to explain it to someone, draw it out, have others help me figure out the most beautiful and captivating way to say it, I just do with whatever "junk" language that spills out given that time frame.  I don't mean the language I'm using is junk.  What I mean it is just the stuff that spills out while my brain is pushing out the words to my throat so I can speak.  There is no beauty in it.  No one could fully understand what you felt in that moment, how you saw it, what the sensations were, the smells, tastes, touches, whatever it was, from finding your lost ipod under a leaf to your walk through through a haunted trail.  So what I'm getting to is:  How much of life is truly expressed, how much can one truly understand another, when they don't have the time, skills, or resources to express themselves?  How can one language of twenty six letters be the finite way to express all the intense chemical and physical and electrical interactions and emotions we all go through on a second to second and minute to minute basis?  Next time you talk to someone and they are trying to explain themselves something to you, count how many times they say the work "like", that small pause while the brain chugs to push out the next word to express that complication picture in your head.  But, have you noticed I typed it once, maybe twice while I babbled here as I typed?  It seems that my brain to fingers method of communication is a lot better when transferring information to someone than my brain to mouth.  Now poetry is a bit different, because we introduce a type of rhythm in words that can related closely to ones inner emotions.  It flows, as does our breath.  That translation from poetry moves into music.  Music, now that to me gets us closer to feelings, to ourselves, and to God, if you want to believe in that right now.  Music is  the best form of communication.  It speaks via lyrics, where if you listen you hear the message, but the message is trapped right there in the sounds and beats themselves, into that primal sense of hearing.  It definitely transcends us, much more than a preacher talking at a podium in a church.  Singing, music, song, should be taught as a new language.  Although I hate musicals, I can understand how some can like it.  I haven't dug it yet, but maybe one day.  So before I mentioned how typing expresses what I am thinking much more effectively than just saying it.  So when you read it, you only get one dimension about what exactly I am trying to tell you.  You read it and it translates something else to you.  One day though, well maybe one day, you'll have all the sensory input plugged into a computer, and when you do type or have a conversation with someone, it will be beautiful and magical, like a two year, forty million dollar, 300 crewman movie.  That'd be a nice letter to mother now, wouldn't it?

Monday, November 8, 2010


In Life we are travelers.  In Death we are time travelers.