Silence

As far as God helping us, I find that certain things help staying in touch with him. And why should He help us as most of us ignore him around the clock. I don’t myself. But that’s just me.

For staying in touch I draw every day as I have for 60 years or so. A compulsive draftsman. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on top of all my other maladies, wouldn’t you know. Some of us are more cursed than others.

Also very little computer surfing. Doing a blog post and writing in my journals intermittently. Often sketching people at coffeeshops which I’ve done since the early 1980s, which is how I understand what is happening to people in this society better than those actually living in it, which I’m rarely doing.

It’s not good, friends. That’s all I’m saying here. Total Artificial Paradise. I apologize for adding to it here but hopefully it might have some tiny countereffect on the odd character. That’s the main reason I write. Ann odd character it’s had a large counter effect on is yours truly. Very odd. Almost eccentric. Eccentric artist? What ever happened to them? No doubt underground without access to a computer. I’m planning on joining them myself. Hard enough to type this up. Much less have to field comments from people of the caliber of intellect of Eric Wayne calling me an asshole, a maggot,  phony narcissist or whatever he was describing me as. An insane person? Well, sure. Why not? I’ve been called pretty much everything else. Insane Bart. Insane in the Membrane. I wrote that yesterday for Bob Dylan to sing. Bob the plagiarist turns out. But that’s PoMo Fo Yo. They don’t mention his plagiarizing Cartier Bresson photographs for his Gagosian show or wherever it was. You tell me for a change.

Anyway, this article came as a real shocker. I rolled my eyes when I read it:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/shortcuts/2017/jun/14/its-alright-ma-im-only-cheating-did-bob-dylan-crib-his-nobel-speech-from-sparknotes

Alas! Alack! The Great Bard a phony! Don’t tell me his ads for Victoria Principal bras was insincere! Where will it end? Noam Chomsky selling Men’s Hosiery? Nah. Noam always had integrity. Bob lost his when he decided to pretend to be an authentic Socialist and American hobo hero when he was a guy pretending to be Woody Guthrie.

Time loves a hero. But only time will tell. If he’s real he’s a angel from heaven. If he ain’t he’ was sent here from Hell. – Lowell George

Too bad nobody’s ever heard of Woody, though I can assure you he’d never get any award for his songwriting, much less a Nobel Prize. Although he deserved on. A real hero of min anyway. God Bless you, Woody Guthrie. Arlo? Too much pot and good times to be a great songwiter. But a nice kid nevertheless and a super lyrical storyteller. More Arlo, less Bob, and our generation might have done a hell of a lot better.

Sorry. There I go again. Like Jack Kerouac i’ve been poppin the Bennies. How else can I write On the Road… to Mandalay Bay.. way out Las Vegas Way… where they tested the nukes and ran the casinos that paid for it all. Now it’s time to pay it all back!?!?! But I’m in debt up to the eyeballs.

A little more silence in my busy mind actually goes a long way. … to keeping me at least somewhat sane. So I’ll turn it over to someone sensible to explain. Thich Nhat Hanh, the South Vietnamese Buddhist :

Our need to be filled up with one thing or another all the time is the collective disease of human beings in our era. And the marketplace is always ready to sell us every kind of product to fill ourselves up. Advertisers continually scare us into avoiding the supposedly pathetic situation of living life without this or that item. But many of the things we consume, both as edible food and as sensory impressions, have toxins in them. Just as we might feel worse after eating a whole bag of chips, we often feel so after we spend many hours on social media sites or playing video games. After we consume like that in an effort block out or cover up unpleasant feelings, somehow we only end up feeling even more loneliness and despair.   

Now I’ll go on blabbering away and you can tune out as Thich gave you the message to tune out. So tune out. Go out and draw, Junior. That’s how it’s done. And not on a computer.

I try to stay outside the cyberuniverse as much as possible. Particularly lately. Watch little TV. Of course that makes me a bore in social company as all that is being talked about is the in depth knowledge everyone has of where the Impeachment Proceedings are at the moment and expressing their deep thoughts about the shooting of a US Congressman in the working class suburb I grew up in of Alexandria, Virginia. We were so broke we didn’t even own a TV for a bit there.. And when we got one it was black and white and not that interesting. So I didn’t form the TV habit that everyone else is addicted by.

I don’t think of myself as morally elevated and above everyone else. Just not so much into it and a complete bore socially as I have little to add to conversations of how great the Broadway Musical Hamilton is as it really gets to what America is all about. Rap music and dancing, and not bothering to read much about who Alexander Hamilton really was. A lawyer and Big Time Wall Street guy. Made sure the working class stayed in their place. Shining his boots. Aaron Burr, a kind of gambler and hustler, with a penchant for running away from debts and threatening to sue whoever came after him. Another lawyer for you. Love those Lawyers. Donald Trump’s a gold mine for those guys. I guess. Not keeping track.

You can read a good book with the actual history of New York City included in it about H and B. A page turner. Not as exciting as Hamilton the Musical I imagine. Haven’t seen it yet. If I’m misjudging perhaps someone will straighten me out. The book is Duel with the Devil . I have a lot of books with Devil in the title. He interests me. What can I say? Way more exciting than God, who just sits in a cloud reaching out to touch Adam on the Sistine Ceiling. At least to most people in consumer heaven.

Next up, if I remember to pull a quote: The Devil’s Delusion. A Hell of a book and the atheist Fundamentalists Paul Rumsey loved so much, i.e. Sam Harris, Chris Hitchens and Richard Dawkins, come away with the short end of the stick. A longer version that dispels the delusions of the Fundamentalist Atheists is Karen Armstrong’s Fields of Blood: Religion and the History of Violence. A brilliant tour de force by one of the greatest writers on Comparative Religion who has ever lived. Unlike the Hitchens war mongering crowd, Karen Armstrong knows what she’s talking about. Small wonder Chris Hitchens would only debate if he was up against Al Sharpton on Chris Matthews rotten tomato of a show.

For you wits wanting to tell me I should practice what I’m preaching. I only stay silent during meditation, when I’m drawing. Other than when I’m interrupted when I go in and out to answer a question like: “Do you sell those in a gallery?” or “Are you ‘shrooming?” No I just naturally hallucinated on a piece of paper. Cheaper than buy LSD, which I’ve heard is pretty expensive today? You could get it by the handful at reasonable prices in certain locations back in the good old days. I’ve hallucinated since I was a kid. I thought everyone did. My son did anyway. He had an imaginary friend named Bobby Shake. Wonder if he remembers him.

Also I run my mouth to my wife and various other people driving them crazy. Most of them want to keep watching TV or read their smartphone news or tweet, which is more interesting than anything I can say to them.

About trueoutsider

I'm an artist.
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