I thought I would drop a few words much like a bird will drop a 'gift' from a couple of hundred feet up. Unlike the bird, I have no way to ascertain how or where it lands, unfortunately. But if you have the gift for gab and you've been known to assemble in some pleasing manner a whole passel of syllables, then you truly have no recourse but to continue to Johnny Appleseed them occasionally. Thus, I am at it again.
Historically, I have already given you some of these syllables thus far into a 'new' year. A lot of words do pong around in my head, sometimes at the number 1 setting and sometimes at the 4, sometimes with one paddle and sometimes with two. Ha! I liked that old game! But that's where they have largely remained. Cashiers are not known to be either artists or philosophers though I did meet a pink-haired 50-ish lady cashier recently who said she made recycled art. I go to galleries and I see a lot on-line but I find it difficult to know exactly how to make the distinction between 'regular' art and 'recycled.' I'm guessing she meant she re-purposes items meant for either the garbage or the recycle container into something with artistic merit. This is just a guess. I have been known to do something with what I call 'found objects' myself over the years. In fact, I received an item in the mail recently that used a lot a oddly shaped pieces of Styrofoam as packing material. I have saved same as I think I could use them with my 'custom compound' to make an interesting sculpture or two. So that would be an example of making 'recycled' art, I think.
I mentioned cashiers because my social life has been reduced to the 7 or 8 art shows annually and my weekly shopping trips. Yes, there is the occasional visitation by myself or a few select individuals but, currently, those visits are few and far between. So I see more cashiers than friends nowadays. Believe it or not. No, I am not a Ripley sponsor. Maybe it's just as well that I have been something of a loner all my life. It's just that now I have the time to refine those qualities until they are as 'reduced to essence' as a stick figure drawing. I will admit that my dream world has always had more to recommend it than my usual waking one. Maybe that is why the old seem to doze so much.
If you look through my AW galleries you will see that I've been conjuring images for many years. It is an essential part of me and that is how it should be. Have any of you read T. S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland?' If you haven't lately, I think it would make an enlightening re-read. In fact, I think I'll do so myself. In high school, I memorized 'The Hollow Men' to recite aloud in class.
"Is it like this In death's other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone."
It seems my current life and Mr. Eliot's poem have more than a little in common. It is a shame that poems like this one would be deemed 'too formal' or 'too academic' by today's standards. These are the types of poems I cut my artistic/poetic teeth on. Distilled language with 100 proof content.
'We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!'
If that doesn't ring true today then take me out and shoot me. I'm done with so much bloated flatulence that passes, with such unseemly noise, for culture and high art. IQ should be rising not falling. A generation's culture has historically been a sort of litmus test to gauge its progress. We should be pushing into new frontiers not hanging on for dear life to what amounts to an anchor. There are several distinct parts that make up the anchor. I could elucidate but maybe I'll just end here and ask you, dear reader, to think about what those components might be.