It makes sense, trust me. As Mickey mentioned last night to me (and which I’ve been saying myself for quite some time), it’s a matter of writing every day, even if it’s just writing about not wanting to write. Right. Correct.
A few things I haven’t talked about from my trip: the early early morning drive to the airport was an interesting (and perhaps intense) experience. We listened to volume 2 of a compilation I’d made, and rode up the empty interstate, stopping in Lebanon for gas and coffee. I remember remarking as we pulled from 91 to 89 that what I dig so much about compilations and playlists that you share with others is that at any time that you put it in, there is the chance that someone else out there is listening to it right at that moment. By the very act of thinking about that, friends become closer, more immediate.
We pulled in for gas, and got out: it was warm for a 4am in November, and I could see the stars clearly in the sky: Orion was in full armor, with all his stars full and bright like they only get during the winter. Riding on, I remember looking back and to the north and seeing the sky start to shimmer, the northern lights illuminating the sky like moonbeams without a moon to originate from. It was a damn good trip.
Compilations, mix tapes, playlists, these are an artform in of themselves. When done right, they create a mood and atmosphere that is like a fingerprint of the individual who made it. I used to make compilations all the time, sitting on the rug in front of the stereo and recording onto tapes (I didn’t have a cd player in my car then). Some were good, some were not so good, but they were pretty clearly and uniquely ME. I made a few more when I got a cd burner in my laptop, and then didn’t make any more for quite some time. I half-heartedly made a few a year or so ago, but they didn’t really connect, and I stopped pretty quickly.
On our most recent sojourn east, we (Uri, Mickey, and myself) were driving south to UberCon, and it was suggested that I make a compilation to carry us down the road. So I slipped on headphones and sat in the back seat on my laptop, and made a cd, and we listened to it. I had so much fun with it that I made another that same trip, and had a third within the week. I made a new two volume set based on my experiences at school, which I’ve been listening to ever since.
We have tile floor downstairs, in the kitchen and leading up to the exits (the front door, the garage door, the mud/laundry room, the back door). Coming downstairs in the morning and feeling the cool tile on my bare feet was fantastic.
I still haven’t seen the northern lights. I feel ripped off. Ah well, all the sweeter when I do…I guess.
It’s a strange thing when the creativity you genuinely enjoy and value fails nonetheless to motivate you. Some days I can’t wait to pick up the bass…and some days it’s really tough. And on far too many days, it just doesn’t happen. I haven’t figured out how to get past that block, or what causes it. I tend to do things in bursts, and then switch to something different. Activity’s not much of a problem…but sustained activity on one task often eludes me, a problem that seems to be getting worse instead of better. I subconsciously (I think) get down on myself for not working on something I should, and so I do something to make myself feel better, when what I should do is just not feel bad and work on the thing in the first place.
Ever vigilant, my friend.