Hesitantly, here comes Self-Indulgence

Smoking a bowl or two occasionally can either spark or dampen my creativity.  Sometimes, it will lead to a prolific phase of art journaling, or plain old journaling without the art part.  Often, it fuels an evening of tracing links on the net, finding everything extraordinarily interesting and taking me deeper and deeper into rabbit holes as one new link randomly refers to stuff I already know about and am interested in.  This is the great appeal of the internet for me but also the reason I need to get away from it once in a while.

When I feel the quickening pace of interesting input, I find it helps to have a tool in my hand to process it all into my own assemblage of the world around me.  By tool, I generally mean a pen and paper, my minimum recording device, or my ipad (which I have a love-hate relationship with incidentally).

At this point  I feel I should add a favourite quote, one that became the tagline on my now defunct blog, Way Past 13 Moons:

“Sometimes I write drunk and revise sober, and sometimes I write sober and revise drunk. But you have to have both elements in creation — the Apollonian and the Dionysian, or spontaneity and restraint, emotion and discipline.”

― Peter De VriesReuben, Reuben

This is just how I operate, if you substitute stoned for drunk (I am seldom drunk these days, it upsets my stomach and makes me crotchety).  I love to be free to write to whatever voice is loudest in my mind and it is a sublime way to silence it.  Cannabis enables that free flowing of the mind and it just loves the little tangents I take as I try to capture the feeling of the moment.

Editing, as Peter De Vries suggests, is best done in the opposite state to when the work was created.  By work, I mean whatever you create.  Sometimes, the masterpiece created “under the influence”, seems nonsensical or plain dull, when my head clears.  On the contrary, a painting that I’m stuck on, that seems so lacking in potential,  is suddenly full of undeveloped ideas that I am itching to progress, after I’ve had a pipe.

If this all seems like a preamble to my exposing some Dionysian work, then you are right.  After careful consideration, I have decided to post some of the poetry I wrote a few evenings ago.  My internal editor tells me it’s not great work, by which I mean it is not very accessible and has no universal meaning.  It’s self-indulgent stuff and I can’t imagine a readership would get the thoughts that lay behind it.  However, to me it is meaningful and, in particular, it is a signpost to the state of my feelings when I wrote it.  As I blog for myself anyway, I feel completely free to post what I like here but if somebody else gets something from, that is an excellent bonus.

 

Grace Brothers

It’s hard to ignore the unpalatable truth,
One needs silence from demands of input, input, input.
The first draft is always the best
And cum is not a dish best served cold.
I will escape,
Sitting in stillness,
Breathing in the woods of pine and eucalyptus.

A coruja watches with deception in her eyes.
Why do we continuously upgrade our lives?
We have forgotten gratitude in our clamour for glamour.

 

A Mixture of Dogma and Indecision

For
No
Objective
Reason,
Dogmatise.

 

Nostalgia for What Never Happened is the Worst

Please keep me on the net.
I’m hooked and must get my shot.
Overpaid and under worked,
Get your divi,
A bob, a tanner and a half a crown.

How about that,
You necrophile?

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