Sweet Dreams III - Fragmented Fermentations

After a time in any exotic land the things one first found exotic become normal. That rooster on the sidewalk, the steetside barbers, the language - all part of a regular day now. Maybe now, only in dreams can I travel. I am already too far away in the real world. This is a collection of snippets, all from different days and different dreams over a period of six months - each seperated by a letter. (A) Dad is on a street with all old cars - one green Chrysler to be seen. If I look in the rear view mirror of one car, I can see all the others. (B) I travel with the Leo Burnett company to Germany on a Nintendo assignment. They are showing me a 10 year plan to move people into side businesses. There are drinks at a bar with cute girls and my old friend Patrick Scullin (C) Tom Kirkhart, my old college roomate, and his wife Kim are in a house with my old stereo. I can't find the volume and it keeps playing. Tom has 10 boom boxes and other stereo gear around. I can hear his voice as if it is not a dream at all. "Tom, we don't have a lot of room here", I say. I come to believe this dream is real because I can hear the music exactly as it sounds - and that's what wakes me up. (D) The lips are those of a very old lady - aluminum foil wrinkled into her 70s or 80s, yet smiling slightly and pleasantly attractive. I am drawn to them. They are my wife's from years ago, yet now years ahead. Too many years ahead. (E) The composite girl's pantaloons are like three layers of black silk swiss cheese, cut with bigger-than-hand-sized holes and layered so that not two holes match, making my maneuvering, from knee to crotch her minefield affair. But I persist. I persist until the warm milk of the target licks upon my fingers and they are invited in, one by one - cut to a miltary model of a battlefield with model tanks and a radio-controlled red truck as a comander barks, "Higher!". (F) I can hear the song "Courage" as if it is real...

For more Sweet Dreams Click below:

VI: I Woke Up Drunk Today
V: Homecoming
IV: All In A Mouse's Night
III: Fragmented Fermentations
II: Strange Dreams
I: White Huskies: Interpretation please?

To the lost:

Hello lost. You became lost when you went away. Not by some disaster or force majur, but by sheer inability to be there when it mattered most. One of you left for money and the SEC, another left for god, and yet another left because she was just terribly unhappy with herself and her business. Another left because he doesn't know how to balance business and marriage. My wife left when my company transfered me to Korea. Shit happens. People don't get lost because of you. People loose themselves because they don't know what to do. People get lost because they weren't looking for where they were going in the first place. Care for your friends and lovers but don't be surprised when they leave. A dollar has become a precious thing. Follow the money. That's how people get lost. Then in the end, finally, you can see what you've found.

"I've spent many years making up for not being a genius": Am I Doing Enough?

I'm listening to a musician named Sufjan Stevens and reading about the sheer volume of work he has already done, not to mention his ambitious plans for the future. Last week I downloaded and cataloged over 30 Todd Rundgren albums – the week before, all of Zappa and Brian Eno and some Ennio Morricone. Here are are a number of extremely prolific creative people and I ask myself, "am I am doing enough?".

My wife used to say my life was too complicated and maybe she was right, but I was doing a lot. And I like doing a lot.

Oh, I wrote a book last year and even in that book it seems I've got a million things going on at one time in that rendering, but am I doing enough? I collect as much music as I can get my hands on, work a regular job, I write, I make films, I attempt musical composition from time to time. I read. I cook, I clean and keep a journal – different from what I do here.

But do I do enough? Do we all do enough? One thing I have always brought to the creative process is the idea of a million influences. From music to architecture to the social sciences to whatever. How can I create if I don't know anything? How can you give if the tank is empty? So my tank is probably brimming over most of the time.

But I'm not sure I always get more from it. Because many of the people I deal with only want a certain amount. Too many ideas is not what a lot of people want.

I like and old quote from Bill Bernbach. He said, "I've spent many years making up for not being a genius".

I suppose it's going to take me more than many years. That's why I always ask myself if I'm doing enough.

For more in the "Am I doing enough?" series, check below:

III An Ozomatli Day: Am I doing enough? III
II Blimps & bullshit: Am I doing enough? II
I "I've spent many years making up for not being a genius": Am I doing enough?