This whole “no internet” thing is only a couple of days old, and trying to figure out how to publish regularly has posed the challenge of frustration. Not a real challenge mind you, as I have had a fantastic time since the web went away. My phone lets me stay as connected as anyone “has” to be. More of an artistic frustration. I wanted to publish yesterday and the day before. Yet, the process to do so would have taken enough of my time to disrupt the day’s flow. Not interested.
There is a temptation when one publishes everyday and gets feedback and stats: it could become about the attention and the computer game aspect of it, treating these posts as an advertising firm would and thinking success is based on number of reads and consumer response. I did that business shit for nearly fifteen years; I’m out! If I were to let that brand of motivation do more than whisper to me, I would be letting myself and my audience down. As much as this blog is about events and people in my life. It cannot be anything more playback after it leaves my hands. The art is not contained purely within the finished product for that is no longer the artist themselves.
There is a moment during the art composition process when the artist is connected their craft and is inseparable from it. As I compose these words at a keyboard and antiquated laptop with an XP sticker still hanging on, the prose and I are as one because in this moment I exist to create it, but conversely, it doesn’t exist without me. This is the genesis point of artists referring to their creations as “children.” Without genetic material children could not exist, as well, the only reason children exist is because genetic material can and will be spread around a gene pool. Art and life are the same. This makes sense.
Art is a fruit on the tree of life—an artifact such as a spider’s web.
What is incomplete about a spider and its web? Nothing. Biochemical combinations creating brain states produce behavior. It is true for an artist, indeed anyone who engages in creativity, that they are their art. That thought does me a lot of good, and reminds me that I am whole.
Now that the morning is here when the internet will be turned back on and these words will be released from their financial and current digital oppression I do feel relief. I am a preforming artist after all. Not to mention, I do get a reward for all of this patience and happy perseverance, a two day get away to be with myself. To work, write, read, and devour in the further fruits of the branches which others have cultivated as well.
This too is also only available because I didn’t get something I wanted. Evolution follows this path often, as the very beauty most of us see in dolphins, primates, insects, and maybe even viruses (takes an open mind to love “nucleic acid with attitude” – Dennett) is all possible because other organisms, whole species, went extinct. Over ninety-nine percent of all life that has ever existed had to loose it’s right to live so that we, all of the creatures I listed, and those partially geneticized molecules can have that right. This weekend is no exception and is not being taken for granted. I had to loose an opportunity to have a shot at something else amazing. I am a very lucky ape.
Also, the irony of getting to publish again followed by a trip off the grid into a place where my phone barely recognizes existence is beautifully fantastic.