Silence.
Depression.
Sunlight.
It is easily the greatest time for me in the small hours of the morning. I'm not sure if it is insomnia or creative fever that keeps me up late, but I have always found solace in the absolute silence of the hours I should be asleep. My life radiates with Music, Rhythm, Verse, Chorus. Noise even. Lots of Noise. Lots of distraction from the deep recesses of Who I Am and Where I Belong. I don't like to think about those things. I'd much rather sing a song or distract myself from the gnawing feeling of Worthlessness and Insignificance. It is in these silent times that alone I open up my inside caverns to peek into their dark chambers. By torchlight I spelunk through my past; those painful memories I wish to have forgotten, those wounds that should be forgiven. Those things that eat you alive inside, scratching at their restrictive cages that you have locked away hoping that they will die and be lost to eternity. And yet they never rot.
I think that people are happy, truly happy, sometimes. Some days everything just beats with that Groove and Rhythm that resonate within you, and it is GOOD. Goodness that makes you Laugh, Dance, Sing, Burst forth with energy and enthusiasm, smiles that infect like a virus, and a world that spins on sunshine and lollipops. Some days are rainclouds and lightning bolts. Deep, introspective days; days where you peel the happy face scratch-n-sniff stickers off your bullet holes and reluctantly peer inside to see what damage has been done to you by so called friends or others. Is it frightening to see inside to what a dark, angry, dangerous, or selfish person you are? Or is the truly frightening fact that the same hands are capable of murder and giving life? Same mouth capable of destroying spirit or praise? It is painful to realize that life isn't all sunshine and cookies, however I wish it where.
Is it irony that the best music comes from the greatest pain? That the Artist life must be filled with absolute torture of pain and agony? Or greatest Joy? Perhaps these sorts of people have a greater range of emotions than the throng of humanity. And what is the preoccupation of most of the songs written:
Love.
I wish to not write about Love, for Love is the subject of a billion writings, all of which are much better than whatever I'd write about. Music has touched on Finding Love, Yearning for Love, Losing Love, Hating Love, Forgetting Love, and everything in between. Why is Love so important? What inside of us Screams that Love be our Defining Purpose? I'm not sure, but its much easier being the guy with the questions than the guy with the answers. I'll admit that I don't understand Love in the least bit. I've read tons of books on it, heard experts from all kinds of fields talk about it, and its just as confusing as theoretical physics to me. Is it Love that defines us? Does it answer the questions of Who Am I and Where I Belong? Does it make us Feel Good, and that makes it right? Maybe some of us don't want to open up those bullet holes and see what wounds we are numbing by finding or patching them up with this "Love". I know I've been guilty sometimes.
I think I've come to a point in my life where I Don't Care who Loves me, at least in a way that it defines my existence. I think that I've become comfortable with Who I Am. Alone, at least, I can be honest with myself. I'm not sure if the world wants to see. Maybe its pride, maybe its fear, that keeps us from opening those caverns to the Sunlight and letting Happiness in. I would prefer my insides by full of Cookies and Fun. Maybe then I would write a bunch of happy children's songs and play at Disneyland. Maybe that's what Joy is all about.
Here's to Hope.
Live, Love, Verse.
J. Beatnik
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tempo
At the behest of my one fan, I'll try to pick this blogging thing up again. Thank you, Caleb.
Rhythm.
Dynamics.
Tempo.
I feel rhythms. I don't know if it is something you're born with, or something you are able to learn, but there is a feel to them. I have heard the old verse of "You either have rhythm, or you Don't" plenty of times, and from my observations, I apparently have Rhythm. I'm not sure if I can explain what this magical property is, but I can tell you that, to me, it is marrow. Marrow like your bones have a core inside of them that is essential for life itself, Rhythm is inside of me and its a disease.
A disease? I suppose if I could be frank, it has all the makings of an affliction. When you hear music and you have Rhythm, you begin to itch. You itch to move, to breathe, to heartbeat, to synchronize, to FEEL and BE that Rhythm. Your body screams to the Rhythm to move, to sway and your frail body cannot fight back! You get the shakes and begin with the foot tapping, the hand clapping, the head nodding, the body swaying. It gets in you and there's no going back. Your being is in harmony with beat, with the THUMP THUMP of drums, with Groove, with assimilation of yourself into pure expression. The Rhythm is a terminal disease, there is no end but to Break Out, not in hives or a rash, but in Dance.
Dance is the expression of Rhythm. Its the telling of a million stories, of a tale of woe or wonder, of silent moments of body language that speak more than words ever could. It is your body telling you that you sit too much, talk too much, be still too much, be tame too much, be someone else but yourself...too much. Dance is art. Artistry that is a moment, a performance, a shared communication between the Artist and the Changed. I used change instead of audience, because not everyone in the audience really cares, or really watches Art. Only when Art truly communicates, does it change. I think we as humans do a horrible job of appreciating. We make fun of people for how they dance, for how they feel (or don't feel) The Rhythm. If I could make a wish, I would wish that people could (and would) Dance like they feel, Feel like they Dream, and Dream Big.
Dream Big? What is this, some NBC Saturday Morning Cartoon special where Michael J. Fox comes on and says "Hey kids, don't smoke Pot" *Cue "The More You Know" music*? Yeah, its pretty cheesy, but there is some truth to the Public Service Announcements. If all you want in life is a paycheck and a party; well, have fun leaving the world completely unaware of your existence. There has to be more out there for a person to aspire to. Maybe I'm just an Artist. Maybe I'm some idealistic idiot visionary that the world hasn't stomped flat and pressed into its cookie cutter market demographic mold yet. Make a goal. Make more than one, even. Be an Astronaut, or a Cowboy, or a Fire Truck, if that's what you aspire to. Just DO SOMETHING. Especially if you haven't done it before. Experience LIFE.
You've probably heard this all before. Its what every hack of a motivational speaker says. So I'll keep it simple:
Dance.
That's right, Dance. Get your lazy butt off the chair, stand up, and wiggle around. Put on your favorite CD, DVD, Tape, or Record and "shake your groove thang". Jump up and down if that's all you can do, wave your hands around, BE SILLY. Go crazy with yourself. Its expression, and it is essential to human life. If someone looks at you funny or makes fun of you, ask them why they don't Dance. Have them read this, sure, why not. I won't make fun of them. But the important lesson is that you did something different. Why not make this a start of something better? Find whatever expression suits you best, be it Music, Visual Art, Graphic Art, Dance, Theater; anything you put your mind to that shows who you are to the World, DO IT. You'll find it infinitely rewarding.
Live, Love, Verse.
J. Beatnik
Rhythm.
Dynamics.
Tempo.
I feel rhythms. I don't know if it is something you're born with, or something you are able to learn, but there is a feel to them. I have heard the old verse of "You either have rhythm, or you Don't" plenty of times, and from my observations, I apparently have Rhythm. I'm not sure if I can explain what this magical property is, but I can tell you that, to me, it is marrow. Marrow like your bones have a core inside of them that is essential for life itself, Rhythm is inside of me and its a disease.
A disease? I suppose if I could be frank, it has all the makings of an affliction. When you hear music and you have Rhythm, you begin to itch. You itch to move, to breathe, to heartbeat, to synchronize, to FEEL and BE that Rhythm. Your body screams to the Rhythm to move, to sway and your frail body cannot fight back! You get the shakes and begin with the foot tapping, the hand clapping, the head nodding, the body swaying. It gets in you and there's no going back. Your being is in harmony with beat, with the THUMP THUMP of drums, with Groove, with assimilation of yourself into pure expression. The Rhythm is a terminal disease, there is no end but to Break Out, not in hives or a rash, but in Dance.
Dance is the expression of Rhythm. Its the telling of a million stories, of a tale of woe or wonder, of silent moments of body language that speak more than words ever could. It is your body telling you that you sit too much, talk too much, be still too much, be tame too much, be someone else but yourself...too much. Dance is art. Artistry that is a moment, a performance, a shared communication between the Artist and the Changed. I used change instead of audience, because not everyone in the audience really cares, or really watches Art. Only when Art truly communicates, does it change. I think we as humans do a horrible job of appreciating. We make fun of people for how they dance, for how they feel (or don't feel) The Rhythm. If I could make a wish, I would wish that people could (and would) Dance like they feel, Feel like they Dream, and Dream Big.
Dream Big? What is this, some NBC Saturday Morning Cartoon special where Michael J. Fox comes on and says "Hey kids, don't smoke Pot" *Cue "The More You Know" music*? Yeah, its pretty cheesy, but there is some truth to the Public Service Announcements. If all you want in life is a paycheck and a party; well, have fun leaving the world completely unaware of your existence. There has to be more out there for a person to aspire to. Maybe I'm just an Artist. Maybe I'm some idealistic idiot visionary that the world hasn't stomped flat and pressed into its cookie cutter market demographic mold yet. Make a goal. Make more than one, even. Be an Astronaut, or a Cowboy, or a Fire Truck, if that's what you aspire to. Just DO SOMETHING. Especially if you haven't done it before. Experience LIFE.
You've probably heard this all before. Its what every hack of a motivational speaker says. So I'll keep it simple:
Dance.
That's right, Dance. Get your lazy butt off the chair, stand up, and wiggle around. Put on your favorite CD, DVD, Tape, or Record and "shake your groove thang". Jump up and down if that's all you can do, wave your hands around, BE SILLY. Go crazy with yourself. Its expression, and it is essential to human life. If someone looks at you funny or makes fun of you, ask them why they don't Dance. Have them read this, sure, why not. I won't make fun of them. But the important lesson is that you did something different. Why not make this a start of something better? Find whatever expression suits you best, be it Music, Visual Art, Graphic Art, Dance, Theater; anything you put your mind to that shows who you are to the World, DO IT. You'll find it infinitely rewarding.
Live, Love, Verse.
J. Beatnik
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