Go home and make art. Go home and make love. Not necessarily in that order. If you cannot do those things, then do what your father told you to do and go to work and make money.
I'm delusional.
I still think there is a way to avoid all of this.
This last week we had the “Occupy Portland” rally/protest/riot. I'm still very unsure what these people were trying to accomplish. I still do not understand the fight. From what I gather, there is inequality in the world (by which I mean the US or more specifically, Portland, Oregon). The teachers aren't paid enough. Student loans are unfair. Wall Street fat cats are the end of us all. And above all, the government is really evil.
Who cares?
Standing behind causes is one thing.
Hanging around with others is something else.
But protesting the world because of this, that or the other is odd.
And this whole time, I thought there was a potent potential in all of us to go out into the world and create something, something good. Go forth all of you and leave something behind. Leave behind a random garden of words or herbs in the fields and forests of this new world landscape that will tickle, thrill, chill, elate or delight the one to come up behind you. Go home and make art. Go home and make love, right? There is so little time for all of this other nonsense. Yes, the corporations are evil, yes, the government is evil. Who cares? They do not need you. You want to protest, don't participate. Yes go home and make art, make love. Is this really protesting? Well, you won't be paying taxes to a bankrupt government who doesn't treat your money (or labors) responsibly, for starters. And chances are, if you're making art, you won't be dependent on foreign oil, or paying the salaries of CEOs the world over who squander the money of the poor broken backs of the workers.
No, I'm suggesting this: an entire generation, an entire community, an entire world who has just washed their hands of the old ways and wandered out into the immensity of their universe and begun to repaint, retell, recreate life. I'm suggesting a fearlessness of minds who value creativity and expression more than the system. I'm suggesting a fuck all to convention and in the vacuum of this current disaster, we are left behind in a new day of spent people who have tired themselves out in the process of creation.
But alas, I am delusional. This is not the future of mankind. No, everyday we bring more people into the world. Everyday the tyranny of the individual has made the source of confusion more clearly out of focus. Everyday we get further from the point of art and love I believe we should make. Everyday, I feel like our unrest grows. Everyday, I feel like the volatile combination of population, lack of education, dysfunction of government, imposition of institutions and hodgepodge of ideologies takes us further rather than closer to a solution. It's not making art edgy. It's not make more artists: the writers, the poets, the musicians, the painters and the sculptors. The makers of film, the sketchers of portraits, the singers of ballads, the strumers of guitars, the street performers, the balloon tying clowns remain far and few between. Yes, the artist, in every capacity remains small in this world of occupied tension. The artist is not at home making art and making love. I think the artist is at work, punching a time clock somewhere daydreaming about the next manifestation of their craft. The artist is waiting. I hope the artist is waiting. I hope that the artist goes forth and creates, makes more, inspires more. Let the unrest socially and politically fail. Let the protesting and the government spending and the corporate greed fail in the folds of the books and poems and music to come.
Oh yes, I am delusional. But in my daydreams, the artist emerges from everyone and everyone settles into their muse and creates. In my daydreams, this is what separates us from animals. This is what separates us from the subhumans and the demons we harbor.
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