Blogger's Block

Over the last few days, I've had trouble thinking of things to write. So I think I'll just ramble incoherently in the hopes that something interesting or original comes out of it.

My wife is scared of the Burger King commercial where the guy slowly turns into a chicken. I'm not a big movie buff, but the whole setup seems strangely Hitchcockian- one where the style of the shot tells just as much of the story as the actual events taking place. Sadly, it's become a lost art in filmmaking.

I painted a picture for my sister- the one who moved to Nashville- last week. I spent an hour or so a day after work on it. I was inspired by how the leaves glowed in the light of the security light behind the house. Of course, the actual product was a bit different from the reality (I'm no Old Master) but the effect was close enough. It was a dark piece of art- dark blues and purples and black silhouettes of trees against the night sky. Yet the moon and security light shone bright- and one tree sat between the light and the viewer and struck bright green to the eye. It's kinda hard to explain.

I would like to paint more often, but it takes so much effort to prepare and get all the materials ready. It's kinda like the TV cooking shows where they whip up masterpieces in ten minutes. All of the ingredients are in cute little bowls (generally glass ones) and they just dump everything in at just the right time. Of course, they never show you the four assistants who have to cut up, prepare, and arrange all the ingredients in the cute little bowls. Painting is a lot like that- I guess most things worth doing are.

I wish people would comment more on my blog, but I generally don't comment on other people's blogs. Ironic and hypocritical at all the same time- that's me (and humanity) in a nutshell.

Once we realize that the true power of blogging is the full spectrum of ideas and perspectives that can be brought to the table, and thus facilitate the advancement of truth, then the better the blogging community will be. As it stands now, we appear to be mostly islands of thought. Here and there, one encounters a fragile archipelago, held together by shared ideas. Yet we must forge out to open seas, and give up part of ourselves if any real progress is to ever be made with this new innovation.

The sky outside is an unearthly yellow after the rains have passed. It's as if the light is suffused and emanating from every structure upon the earth- yet this spectacle will surely pass, just as the rain did.

I saw a dog that had been hit by a car laying on the side of the road. Vultures were already starting their grisly work. I had an instant thought that would not have existed just two months ago- was I to be sad for the dog, or happy for the vultures? The two competing emotions fought each other to the death, and I was left empty. Nature, and life itself, has a way of zeroing things out- a cosmic accounting, if you will. As humans, all we can ever hope to do is rage against this balance, and maybe, just maybe, leave a little in the positive column when we're gone.