Hello, reader. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking about what writing is for. I started out as a kid writing poetry– then I became a teenager zinester, then adult blogger. You could say I’m a content creator, if you use those kinds of words.
All kinds of possible motivations for that. But if life is about making money, people create content to be paid for it. Adverts are involved, so like TV where the shows were made to keep watchers watching and surround the commercials with enticement, internet content exists to keep readers seeing the ads.
But if life is about love, community, and connection, then here I am. I’m trying to make that world where love is more important than money, and we can nurture one another. We can strongly decide to stop harming Parent Earth, stop wars, cops, and other violence, and dismiss the state with its borders of harm. You know me–I’m an anarchist.
I’ll dismiss the state any day. Bye, state!
that doesn’t match my experience
Internet content is criticized when the reader disagrees with a part. “That doesn’t match my experience– you are leaving out this important part!”
It makes me wonder about the purpose of writing and art. When internet readers think content exists to reinforce the opinions they already hold. And of course we are constrained in what we can say. The more specialized and nuanced observations are not going to apply to all people and situations of all time. That’s not even a goal.
Clarifying, putting something into words a person has known but didn’t articulate yet, and slightly challenging in a gentle way are welcome. But leaving something out is an internet crime, or saying a thing that doesn’t match what the reader has experienced.
It makes me think of how there’s a comfort zone, learning zone, and panic zone. The learning zone can be so narrow. Ping-ponging from comfort to panic is a sad life. There’s not much tolerance for the discomfort of difference.
Some cling to facts in an effort to avoid the discomfort, when facts are just as spun as opinions.
radio
When I was a kid, I noticed the new music I heard on the radio was very similar to the music I’d already heard. It needed to excite people by being a new version of what was easy and known. I saw a narrow range of difference tolerated.
I found the radio music boring and mostly all sounding the same. But it filled my life, when I was a kid, because I didn’t have much control over my environment.
In the car with my mom, going to the store with my mom, and later listening to the radio in my room, before the internet was as it is now, my choices were confined to a small diameter of the local broadcast area.
listening to the noise
Then I became an artist. I want media that’s art and challenges me, pushing boundaries. My soul asks to be hit by art that takes risks and gets close to Source. My soul is asking to be transformed and find extremes. It’s religious.
I don’t want music to help me pass the time at the grocery store, or distract me from an unpleasant task. But I also have a range, where if it’s too far from what’s familiar, I might not recognize its value. A bandsaw, for example. It has band in the name, like it’s related to music. But it’s not going to transform me in a direction I want to be transformed– just sensory squick.
I fell in love with a noise musician a few years ago, and she helped me understand Oregon. I remember going to my first noise concert with her. She’s a brilliant transwoman and brought so much learning to my life.
During that concert, the discomfort, elation, confusion, curiosity, and inspiration were exhausting. Overall I love noise as having more options– so much creativity. But some noise is too harsh and feels pointless, gratuitous.
what writing is for
Writing is for telling the truth, and it’s for pleasure. It’s for fun– its own kind of fun.
Can I show Source to you?
Almost everyone can talk, so in that sense, most people can write– if only with the technology of speech-to-text. But some people are compelled, and I’m here. I’m driven, so thank you for being a reader.
I like helping people feel less alone. I like reaching through time and space to hold someone’s hand. You are held– you are wanted. The world is for all sorts of beings, including you.
