Things 'n' stuff

I was asked to post about the thing I did today, and the request came in such flattering terms that I feel compelled to do it. Oh, now it seems too built up. Let's start again. This post contains spoilers for a certain Academy-Award-nominated movie, btw.

Today I went to what is sometimes known as a 'Mums 'n' Bubs' movie session. I mean how that makes the Dads feel I don't know. Don't get me started on the term 'bub'. Anyway, the idea is that every pram-pusher in the Inner West goes to a movie at the same time. And because everyone knows the theatre will be full of potentially-squalling babes, no-one is upset when they do, in fact, squall. 'Cause you're all in the same boat, see. Supposedly they have the sound slightly down and the lighting slightly up to make it nicer for everyone. Aww. [Have you seen Louie the TV show? That bit in the pilot where he goes on a date with Chelsea Peretti and he says he has two girls and she goes 'awww' and he recoils like, WTF, I didn't say they were cute or nothin', patronizing fucker. I wish I could find a link because it's all there in her intonation.] Anyway.

I have never seen so many babies in one place. You know that episode of the Simpsons that references Hitchcock's The Birds, with the babies everywhere? Kind of like that. Like if you see more than a few cats in one place, and you realise that if only they pooled their power they could kill every one of us.

Yeah, so, lots of babies. Including mine. It was actually incredibly cute. A sea of babbling little things, being soothed by their art-house-cinema attending mothers. The odd crier, whose mother everyone feels sympathy for. A few crawlers roaming free at the front bit under the screen.

It was The Silver Linings Playbook (don't bother. it's such a piece of overplayed fluff. mental illness? let's gloss over that. gambling addiction? fuggeddaboutit. let's have some hugging, learning, saving one another, and oh yes some gratuitous Jennifer Lawrence dance contest butt close-ups. did I forget to mention that this mental illness recovery movie has a dance contest? don't they all? anyway, so, yes, good test case for the Mum/Bub movie concept). Anyway, every now and then there would be a loud aggressive bit (thanks David O Russell), and all the babies' sounds would ramp up a notch and you'd hear all the mothers going 'it's all right, it's all right' haha funny.

My kid is five months, and he squirmed a bit, took two naps, and basically had a fun time jumping around and giggling on my lap and gawping at all the other babies. He also watched the screen from time to time, which he's not allowed to do at home (except the Bureau of Meteorology radar page, he loves that; hey, it's edumacational!).

So anyway now I've blogged about it. I can't blog any more because these days we have to go to bed early. See previous paragraph.

Officially drowning

I am coming to realise that I *always* have a layer of stress or anxiety lurking just below the surface of my consciousness (that's if it's not out there for all to see, which it frequently is).

For all my talk about my work (art) being about representation (signification etc), I suppose it actually *is* expressive, in that it's (becoming more and more) a sublimation of my anxieties (about time running out, my not-perfectness, lots of other things). Which might be stuff that shouldn't be indulged, that should remain below the surface. Sublimatedly. Because surfaces are fragile, and I'm not sure I can walk around with all my guts spilling out all the time ... which leads me to a pro-unselfawareness position, see, the weakness of which I'm sure my dear readers would recognise and consequently reject. "Maintain the surface for the sake of preserving the status quo? Never! Break it down!"

(those are my readers speaking).

Anyway, there are a lot of people in the art world who speak sense. I forget to focus on them. Or forget to be rigorous enough to look hard enough for them and listen properly.

I suppose for me art's a safe place to strip down the boundaries of meaning without risk (risk of losing one's grip on meaning in the real world: one's grip on reality).

Sublimation.

Is that noble?

Not So Sure.

Only if it heals or something. The worry is that it perpetuates the issues or negativity that are being sublimated, or gives you a reason to keep unhelpful thoughts s freshly watered.

Heh

I just want to feel connected. Is that too much to ask?

Huh what right uh

I think I am too self-centred for music. How eye-openingly ... I don't know. Lyrics make me overstimulated.

I am listening to a mix CD I made recently to give to a friend. It's really good. Right now I can only listen to Led Zeppelin or the Beatles or the Velvet Underground. Or quite a lot of other things. Hmm.

When I started blogging, it was this kind of free diaristic kind of thing. Now I have all these phantom audiences of readers (you know who you are! ha. I even know who you are, mostly. probably) that I consider when I 'blog'. I like having readers. My ego likes it. But now I think of the diferent audiences and self-inhibit. Not that this was ever a tell-all deep thing anyway. But maybe it might have been.

I feel that I've blandified.

Anyway. I've got to work on that.

I am moving furniture. I've been all over the shop today. Up, down, up. Unreleased energy, then tired, then antsy, then happy. Now moving drawers and shelves. At 12.30 am. Ah! Peaches is on. Must dash.

I've got a short little span of attention and oh, my nights are so long /Paul Simon

I don't mind blogging into the void, actually

It makes one less inhibited.

Let's rephrase; it would make one less inhibited. In the blog, natch.

Not posting post

Just letting you know that I'm not posting that post that I just wrote because I don't want anyone to feel compelled to shoot themselves in the head just to get away from the godforsaken banality contained within.

It's a public service I'm providing here. Not boring anyone to death.

Try harder you say? Not me! O-ho no!

Welcome

Welcome to the most boring blog in the world. I've been working really hard on getting things to this stage, and I think you'll find that I've done a pretty good job, even if I do say so myself. Things were touch and go at the beginning there; words were added, thoughts were aired (I'm not saying it was right), but since those shaky beginnings I'm proud to have really gotten rid of all of those petty attempts at creating 'points of interest' and 'entertainment' and what-have-you. The last seven weeks or so have been the purest in my blogging life. I know I can't truly convey what this journey has been like for me; I can simply be glad you were travelling with me. Even though you may not have known it at the time.