What makes an artist an artist? It’s a question that’s been asked thousands of times by thousands of people who have the creative urge and use it. Am I an artist? Do I really have what it takes to create something memorable and interesting to others? A lot of questions and very few answers usually.
As a young man I had a constant stream of creative thoughts, but it took many years for me to find a way to express myself. I tried everything oil painting, sculpting, photography, poetry, and even jewelry making. I’ve used every type of media from acrylics, latex paints, pastels, charcoal, and pencil sketching. I found I loved writing and BANG; my blogging life began. I love doing them all, but I still was never sure if I was a real artist. Even to this day when I’m struggling with an idea, I still have my doubts. An artist’s curse, I suppose. These short essays by some very smart and intelligent men helped to put most of my doubts to rest. Enjoy . . .
“The biographies of great artists make it abundantly clear that the creative urge is often so imperious that it battens on their humanity and yolks everything to the service of the work, even at the cost of health and ordinary human happiness. The unborn work in the psyche of the artist is a force of nature that achieves its end either with tyrannical might or with the subtle cunning of nature itself, quite regardless of the personal fate of the man who is its vehicle.”
Carl G. Jung (1875– 1961) “On Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry” 1930
“A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want. Indeed, the moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or a dishonest tradesman.”
Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) ” Soul of Man under Socialism” 1891
Even these supersmart gentlemen don’t have the ability to remove all doubt about whether a person is an artist or not. It’s that consistent need by an artist to doubt his own abilities that inspires him to strive to become even better.
I decided to do a little trivia today but in a different way. Normally my trivia lists pertain to the same subject such as the human body, accidental deaths, or just about anything you can think of. Today’s list is a scattering of trivia facts and information that are hard to categorize so I’ll just throw them out there and you can read and enjoy them. Here they are . . .
The upside-down catsup bottle was invented by Paul Brown, who spent years developing a valve that would open when inverted and then close automatically without leaking. Now Brown’s patented valve is used by NASA (so that astronauts cups don’t spill) and by baby food and shampoo manufacturers.
“Brain Freeze” happens when something cold, such as ice cream, touches the roof of your mouth and causes blood vessels in your head to dilate.
Each year Americans spend $9 billion on candy and consume more than 25 pounds per person.
Women have played basketball from the sport’s earliest days; the first intercollegiate women’s basketball game, between Stanford and UC Berkeley, was played in 1896. Stanford won.
Beyond his weight, President Taft is remembered for being the first US president to throw out a pitch on the opening day of baseball season. Since then, every president except Jimmy Carter has followed suit.
The word “dictionary” was coined by the English in 1220. John of Garland wrote a book called Dictionarius to help readers master Latin diction. The first dictionaries were English language glossaries of French or Latin words with their English equivalents.
“The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep is sick” is said to be the toughest tongue twister in the English language.
In 2012, a Florida man died after winning a cockroach eating contest at a reptile store. It wasn’t the cockroach that killed him; they are edible and frequently consumed in some cultures. Instead, the likely cause of his death was a rare allergic reaction to cockroach dandruff.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has sold more books then J.K. Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien combined.
The Twinkie was invented in 1930 in Chicago. Its creator, James Dewar, noticed that the machines used to produce Strawberry Filled shortcakes were idle for half the year when strawberries were out of season. His original recipe included a banana cream filling. The name was inspired by “Twinkle Toe Shoes.
Well, there are your ten little tidbits of trivia for today. More are sure to follow.
Here’s a well-known fact, I’m not a poet. I know a few people who have that skill and like it or not it is a rarity. I’ve tried over the years to read almost all of the more famous of the poets from this country and it leaves me uninterested and unmoved. I write a lot but when it comes to poetry my mind slides right into confusion. All of my poems (and there are a few) tend to be rude, abrasive, and at times erotic and funny. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around serious poetry because I just don’t have it in me. That being said, today I’ll offer up a sample of poetry and you can judge for yourself just how good it is. Let’s get started . . .
“Let me ask you one question,
Is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness?
Do you think that it could?
I think you will find,
When your death takes its toll,
All the money you made
will never buy back your soul.”
That little bit of poetry was written by an often-criticized poet, Bob Dylan, in 1963, from his song, Masters of War. As with most of his musical lyrics, they’re still as good today as they were then. I’ll pass on one more small piece of wisdom with one of his quotes, ” Money doesn’t talk, it swears.”
I’ve been a music lover since the age of seven. My tastes in music are eclectic to say the least because I love good old rock ‘n roll from the 50s and 60s, psychedelic rock from the 60s and 70s, and a few other things that caught my fancy along the way like opera and Glam Rock. Most people that know me would be shocked to know that I’ve been a David Bowie fan for many years and with his death the music industry lost a true star and innovator. This post today is celebrating the birth and introduction of Ziggy Stardust in London’s Toby Judge pub on February 10, 1972.
Bowie was just a minor rocker at the time but with the creation of Ziggy Stardust, Glam Rock was born. Any rock musician can put on a costume, but how many could have inhabited the identity of an androgynous Martian rock star come to Earth in its dying days, so effortlessly? To quote Vince Taylor, a figure well-known in late-’60s London, He was “A finger up the nose of pop sincerity…a boot in the collective sagging denim behind of hippie singer-songwhiners”. The album of the music age, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. was voted one of the top 30 concept albums in history.
David Bowie
With the death of David Bowie in New York City on January 10, 2016, music lost one of its greats. Fortunately for us all, Ziggy Stardust will live on forever.
George Chapman (1559–1634) Was an English dramatist, translator and poet. He was a classical scholar whose work shows the influence of Stoicism. Chapman is best remembered for his translations of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.
I’m sitting here looking out the window and it’s hardly worth doing. It’s snowy, sleeting, cold, and in general a real shit show. It’s a great day to be inside and to stay inside. It’s also a slow news week due primarily to the Olympics of which I really don’t care much about. With that in mind I thought I’d take you back 30 years to revisit some vintage bumper stickers. These were collected between 1988 and 1990 and might prove interesting to some of you and others won’t give a damn anyway. I’m feeling lazy today so here they are . . .
Watch Out! I Drive Like You Do.
Go Ahead, Make My Day.
I Brake For Idiots Like You.
Instant Fool. Just Add Beer.
Live And Let Die.
If It’s Too Loud, You’re Too Old.
Clothes Required, Underwear Optional.
Left-Handers Are In Their Right Mind.
Good Girls Go to Heaven. Bad Girls Go Everywhere.
Still Crazy After All These Beers.
Friends Don’t Let Friends Drive Naked.
Old Musicians Never Die, They Just Decompose.
I’m Not Playing Hard To Get. I Am Hard To Get.
We Came, We Saw, We Yawned.
Sure, I’ll Respect You In The Morning. What Was Your Name Again?
I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T CARE, AND IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYWAY.
I thought I would offer up a few of the oldest limericks I’ve found so far. After reading a few of them I quickly discovered that the sense of humor then was a touch bawdier that many recent ones. Our ancestors probably needed something a little more attention getting in their humor. I’m sure many of them had very little to cheer about.
1882
There was a young sailor from Brighton
Who remarked to his girl, “You’re a tight one.”
She replied, ” ‘Pon my soul,
You’re in the wrong hole.
There’s plenty of room in the right one.”
1870
A young woman got married at Chester,
Her mother she kissed, and she blessed her.
Says she, “You’re in luck,
He’s a stunning good fuck,
For I’ve had him myself down in Leicester.”
1868
There was a young lady of Ealing
And her lover before her was kneeling.
Said she, ” Dearest Jim,
Take your hand off my quim.
I much prefer fucking to feeling.
1871
There were three ladies of Huxham,
And whenever we meets’em we fucks’em,
And when that game grows stale
We sits on a rail,
And pulls out our pricks and they sucks’em.
I hope to post many more of these. I live to keep the tradition alive and well here in the 21st century.
“Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.”
Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) was a writer, philosopher, and intellectual. He wrote nearly fifty books, both novels and non-fiction work, as well as wide-ranging essays, narratives, and poems. He is well known for his 1932 work, A Brave New World. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature nine times and was elected Companion of Literature by The Royal Society of Literature in 1962. Huxley was also a humanist and pacifist.
Sixteen years ago, I was a lonely bachelor living with two ferrets and a cat. Part of my routine at that time was to explore the internet, read blogs, and participate in selected chat rooms. It was about that same time I serious became interested in blogging but was really unsure just how to get started. One of my favorite blogs at the time was called gutrumbles.com. The gentleman that ran that blog was Rob Acid-Man Smith. He captured my imagination immediately because he was brutally honest, totally outspoken with absolutely no filters, and had a great sense of humor. I exchanged emails with him for a time, learned a lot, and I was hooked. That day he became my blog-father. To say he upset a large number of people over the years was an understatement, but he did it with humor and a whole lot of truth. After reading his blog for almost two years I decided to give it a try myself.
My four years of blogging on my first blog were eye opening. I was brutally honest and voiced my opinions loudly and crassly. I spent most of my time complaining about politics, religion, and any other topic that piqued my interest. It was great fun, and the responses were more than just a little interesting. I actually received a number of death threats from idiots around the globe. That was enough to convince me I had more to say and to hell with the critics.
But as with all things age tends to mellow a person. I decided to discontinue that first blog and then created Every-Useless-Thing. Hoping against hope that I could mellow my opinions down a little and make the blog something more than a bitch session. I’ve been doing Every-Useless-Thing now for approximately eleven and a half years and ten months ago I felt myself slipping and losing my edge. A lot of it had to do with my medical issues but it was more than just that. Anytime I felt myself slipping in the past I returned to gutrumbles.com to reinvigorate me. Gut Rumbles continues today at Rob’s request even though Rob passed away in 2006. It was and will always be my “Happy Place”.
Today after that lengthy and boring explanation I’m going to repost an article from Acid-Man’s blog. Hopefully you’ll read his thoughts and then understand where I’m trying to come from. I hope you enjoy a little of Acid Man, because I always have. If you want some good reading, go to his blog and read some of his archives. Here he is!
I have a Southern accent. I drop the “g” off the end of gerunds, so I say talkin,’ climbin,’ smokin,’ and runnin’ instead of speaking standard American English the way Dan Rather does as he lies his ass off on the CBS Evening News.
I say y’all. I have ‘druthers. I know how far yonder is. I know how to see ’bout that. Whatchadoon is a real word to me.
That’s the reason I don’t like to talk on the phone. I sound like a goddam hick. I AM a goddam hick, but I am educated and I can communicate well when I want to. Where I live, everybody understands me just fine when I say, “Whatchadoon? I’d ‘druther ya not go ’bout it that way. Lemme show ya sumpin. Thadded be better, doncha think?” That’s Southern English and it works well in person-to-person communication.
Try that shit over the phone when you’re talking to a yankee. I doesn’t work. The yankee gets all nasal, I talk Southern and the next thing you know, we may as well be from foreign countries. That’s why I would prefer to write to someone I don’t know. I can appear to be halfway intelligent on paper.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about this communication gap. I COULD be like the BC and talk like a yankee at work and sound like the biggest hayseed on the farm at Quinton’s football games, but I’m not a chameleon, able to change my skin color and blend into the scenery the way she can. Everything that woman does is an act and she wears many masks. I’m not built that way. Like Popeye, I am what I am and that’s all that I am.
Sometimes, that’s not the right way to be. Honesty is not always the best policy.
everyuselessthing.com 