the blog is back

bitches

Jeffrey Eugenides. Taking a stroll down what I can only guess is a familiar Detroit street.

DISCLAIMER: I'll try to minimize spoilers. But to those purist who like to know nothing about a novel before they read it, skip this post.

It took me about 3 months to read Middlesex. In part due to my tragic illiteracy, and in part due to the onion of layers that is Middlesex. Good authors make it transparent how much of their life they put into a book - how much of their struggle they transcribed into words. Well Eugenides put in a lot. He traces not only his childhood but the childhood of his bloodlines. He delivers the supernatural ability of both a time machine and a teleporter. From my understanding, it is a combination of diligent research, brilliant fiction, and personal touch that he can inject lucid scene description and insight regarding the 1967 Detroit riots (which occurred when he was only 7). To my knowledge, he did not have any personal experience with sexual ambiguity - but his writing does seem inspired.

The beauty of injecting all these subtleties is that there is just a greater level of honesty achieved. There is no reprehensible plot twists or deus machina fireworks - just the honesty of a people residing in the struggle of a unique situation. I tend to get more from these books. But I will say, they are not terribly entertaining for me to read. Often times they are just depressing.

I find this common thread in the novels I often like - there is never a "happy" ending. The main character is left sickly and jaded from 400 pages of getting walked over in more ways than one. The somber weight of a death usually resides casting an unsettling tone as you turn those last few pages. The reader is left with one thing - a glimmer of hope. The main character usually turns his or her cheek to the wind on a murky December day and says something like "The autumn leaves have fell leaving the trees barren. Alas I know Spring will come."

Why must all the great writers be manically depressive - sad shells of unrequited love and life? I mean seriously, who was the girl that hollowed out Haruki Murakami so bad that he felt the need to write 10 books reliving the pain from different angles - of course never with resolution. The recurring dream of that struggle often makes for great writing. The authors tend to have an almost unnatural level of observability and insight on the subject - but at what cost? I enjoy reading these novels for the appreciation of the pinpoint descriptions and raw emotions, but I don't want to allow myself to relate to these characters. I don't want to see myself as the reflection of these depressing authors. My life isn't that tragic and I don't plan on making it so.

Following 18 years of regimented education I have cocooned myself for 4 months. The growth of the situation cannot be measured in content but context. I've been trying to movie towards a more attractive state of thinking -- associated with the freedom of mental health. Yeah, I know... the phrasing is obscure. When you are tangled in the web of "real life", it can often be hard to evaluate your own freedom of mental health: what kind of hesitation do I have before I start to think, what kind of insecurities do I have that keep me from creating ideas, and what kind of obstacles do I have from letting me consciously act on these ideas.

Thomas Edison (a man with over 1000 US patents to his credit) was said to be "addled" due to his day dreamy disposition. He would sit in a chair and hold a heavy weight in his hand. As he fell asleep, he would drop the weight. The sound would wake him, and in this world between consciousness and unconsciousness he would record his present thoughts on paper. The freedom associated with this dreamy state is what really interests me. 

I have been trying to move towards focusing on capturing my thoughts not in the simmer of reflection but on the point the creation. As a result, I've been trying to improve my comfort level with paper blogging and even mental blogging (To preempt the commenters, this is different from just remembering. It's carried within the chain of growth which should ultimately lead to growth through conscious action.).

It's the American cultural zeitgeist to be afraid of honestly evaluating your level of fulfillment with life. But I'm glad I was afforded the opportunity to do so. I'm glad I had time to examine my mental state -- and figure a little out about what the hell my definition of happiness is. Education comes in both the forms of science and spirituality. Contrary to popular belief, then can be a nice convergence point. I start work this coming week. Time to put the education into practice. I'm feeling pretty good about this.

or

I can't decide. They're both really good.

This falls in line with his creative process which doesn't involve a pen or paper. He can write 30 lines all in his head. Other commercial artist have attempted to take this approach such as Mr. Weezy. Before Carter I, Wayne did a 35 minute cathartic freestyle called 10,000 bars which became the spine of his Carter albums. Afterwards he never used a pen or paper either. Because this way everything he spit "was real."

I feel like when I try to write, I usually pile fiction over fact. Since I haven't been shot or slung any rocks lately, it doesn't seem like I got a lot of worthy material to rap about. Alas this is just a cop out to my inability to see the interesting in the experiences I do have. Then in a state of insecurity I compensate with pretentious verbiage which says nothing about my life, love, humanity, etc. Sometimes "keepin it real" can be difficult under the scrutiny of society.

Good slam poets always surprise me with their ability to dissect the bits of inspiration life throws at them. The reverberations from a good slam can last me weeks to months to years. Their observations can be so poignant that I'd see reflections of them in my life daily.

Geologic of Blue Scholars was once a champion slam poet before turned vicious MC. He is part of a rare breed of hip hop artists that can speak about "struggle" without being completely phony. He makes his inspiration as transparent as possible. Unlike most MC's who are a living contradiction when it comes to walking the talk, Geologic is most comfortable doing his talking while walking all in his native environment:

His rhymes are deliver with a particular liberating flow to him - as in, I can feel the excitement of Geo purging the bits of his life one by one. It seems to come easy to him. That's the beauty of inspiration. To write a hit track some might search years. It only took him a bus ride.

Bill Cosby allegedly said "Hip hop gives da kids da brain damage." This may indeed be true.

Any of the following may happen when your children listen to hip hop:

I try not to write of my proverbial "trails and tribulations." But on some level I hope to bring my cerebral cortex's epiphanies to the surface. I hope that they may enlighten other's. We all have mental energy waiting to manifest. A pen and a pad, or a keyboard and a blog might just be the soil to let an idea grow.

Lately I've been thawing my read of Michael Pollan's Botany or Desire. A book about plants -- yes. But a lot more. The older I get, the more I see the struggle of all organism be it tamil or singalese, white or black, animal or plant all substantial. Sometimes the most abstract subject revolves my daily consciousness in metaphorical significance.

The  human-plant impetus I'm melting on today is the power of intoxication. Pollan drops a bomb correlating marijuana's poetic sensation with it's short term memory loss effects. Neurologically, our brain naturally produces "cannabinoid" receptors for THC -- for reason not entirely known. So Pollan question why would our brain create receptors for a memory loss agent? He ask's the preeminent marijuana scientist Raphael Mechoulam. "Don't be so sure that forgetting is undesirable, he suggested. "Do you really want to remember all the faces you saw on the New York City subway this morning?"" Mechoulam responds.

Pollan argues the disabling of short term memory allows for incredible epiphanies to flux under the influence of the herb. Without the strings of your past fettering one, he or she can look at every new object, person, or idea, like a new born baby (to an extent). This allows for incredible innovation to occur. Pollan suggest's historically intoxication has been a significant driving factor under most of the world religions, arts, and culture.

I've been toying with the idea of short term memory loss as empowerment -- relinquishing the past as salvation. Today I feel like I came to the realization of the importance of carrying this precept with me if I wish to live an innovative life. I have a tendency to temporarily tattoo my self in moments of extreme insanity or sanity. This time I wrote "relinquish the past. believe in the moment." For my fellow Darwinians who crave evolution, who thirst for rebirth, this concept is for you. Life can never be new, bold, and fulfilled unless you relinquish your past. In my experiences, life boil down to single moments of pressure. The way a human being acts under these moments of pressure has a direct correlation to their happiness in life (from conquering a job interview to asking out the girl of their dreams). And while relinquishing your past is easier said that done, it's not to hard to ask yourself before entering a moment of pressure -- who do I want to be be? That's who I'm gonna be. And every time you're feeling down, keep ya head up soldier. Because tomorrow is a new day and you never know what kind of exquisite life you're gonna conquer.