What's worth doing?

I think that's the question.

Or at least it is for me. A_ W_, my "mentor" here, and I were talking about, talking about modes of creativity. It's vague and mythy, but we were talking about how there are two kinds of creative people, the ones who think of a million ideas and want to do them all, and the ones who shoot down all their ideas as soon as they come into their heads. We (or perhaps I should only speak for myself) later shot down this idea, or rather decided they are two sides of the same coin. But I would say that I am more the first kind - that a million half-formed, purposeless, unfocused, entrancing thought come into my head and simmer there at an ultrahigh energy level. Not that many of them are ever, er, actualized. That is to say, this state of creativity is independent of whether one is a lazy bum or not. And I am lazy. And I am a bum - I've got a dirty old coat with holes in the pockets to prove it. But it doesn't matter. I have taken hold of these ideas in the past and ridden them all the way out. And sometimes they have caused me to create great piles of truly worthless crap. But I can laugh at it, or at least smile - I don't want my imaginary neighbors to think I'm nuts. God no.

I just want to say that I love dried cranberries. Yum. Yum!

So, in other words, the answer is not simply "ACTION." No. Even though ACTION is probably a better answer than INACTION, at least in term of cohering my relationship with the real world. That is to say, it is practical for an artist to have piles of crap strewn about. Because visitors may not be able to distingush. And it should be said that this is really the grace of interpretation, and a wonderful wonderful thing, but not what I am talking about right now.

I'm just talking about what is worth doing. It's like, am I thinking too top-down? Am I putting the horse before the cart? I don't know, or rather, excuse me for not wanting to put more crap out in the world, more crap in people's brains. Or maybe I just want to make the most of my time. Because, after all, whether it's good or bad art, it has the tendency to completely dissolve into the whole world's terrible noise within an unbelievably short period of time. And like cream can't get unstirred in coffee, I can't see clearly how these ideas work themselves productively into the cultural timescape. So, what I'm trying to say is, of all of the thousands of grand, picturesque inspirations that have flashed through my unbalanced and misshapen mind, WHAT IS WORTH DOING?

Oh, I know. It's the dumbest questions that push themselved to the front of the line. Perhaps we should get a little colder or something, focus on action. Focus on... What do you call it when someone offers you coffee and you want some, even though you didn't before? Desire as possibility? The inevitable as a decided-upon course of action? Is it really worth playing dumb games when they start out as mistakes? Do I want to get so close to materials that my thoughts course through them? DO I really want to put my feet on the ground when these modern times are so fucked up and uncertain? What I'm saying is that there is one way to get direction, and that is by starting something. Then you know it is crap and needs to be improved. That's the ground I was talking about (you must understand here that there is no real ground). That's the starting point. But like I said yesterday, depending on where you start, not all paths lead to the attic window. Or think nautical; when you are rowing up a river and it splits, one side is always a tributary. Tributaries are rivers too, but they are a different river.

Crap. It's just another procrastination game. But what isn't procrastination? Paying bills? Defeating your enemies? Finding someone to love? Reaching enlightenment? Offing yourself? I guess I know the feeling of losing yourself in the song, in the speed, in the kiss, in the other people's eyes, in the effort to climb higher. Is the feeling all there is? Is it stupid to ask what part of an illusion is fakest?

I have no idea what I am saying. Today I had very little to do, and what I needed to do I decided not to do. I stayed in bed all day. I slept and slept and I got up an pushed a few small objects around and stared briefly at whatever open pages happened into my line of sight, and then I slept again. I went for a walk and it was a beautiful picture-show only. I drank some wine picked at some leftovers and I am considering going to sleep again to do some productive sleeping and dreaming. I'm just joking about the productive part - I'm not going to dream my way through my thwarted subconscious desires or find any kind of psychic, mystic answers or beautiful music or terrible visions or whatever. I'm just going to lie there.

Good night.