Pop-Culture Created Anticreativism

In the Life of Chris Gaines was done exclusively for other people, which is why no one noticed.”  -Chuck Klosterman, on Garth Brooks endeavor to become Chris Gaines.

I take into account how bored I am with things (musically and aesthetically) while I paint my toe nails.  My toe nails are now painted black.  I don’t really mind that my toes are painted, and I still have the ability to do everything my heart so desires.  I do more than most people, and I will stand by that, and it happens to be in most situation (I did diamond push-ups after I lost in pool, and I got some).  I think my toes look nice; however, the application is messy and uneven.

I am not a girl, so painting my nails is like flying a fighter jet; it is not important to my everyday situation, so I avoid it, but I am bored so I do it.  I have done the former before, but I have never attempted the latter.  Practice makes perfect I assume, so I will try again.  I am good at drinking beer, taking out the trash, and telling bad jokes about your mom…

-Toxic Shock Syndrome sounds intense though…

I feel I have something that most new creative artists lack now-a-days; I will in fact try and try again, and keep trying until I am rich and have nothing to try for.  I will then count money and become irrelevant.  Wait.  Wait, that is what artists do now-a-days, but not so much the try, try, and try again part.  While I try most others give up and accept the inevitable:  The shit they produce is as good as it gets and there is no need to try harder.  This makes sense…

One can hear this predicament daily, on most days, turn on the radio, open a magazine, or walk through a modern art gallery and one will see.  One will see, and one will think to oneself, “Oh yeah, this is art, I almost forgot”.  I might be losing it, but at least I try.  I feel that most (well, maybe most) cannot and will not honestly critique anything in fear of becoming judged by their honesty.  Brother Ali said it straight in his song “Writer’s Block”, he said he won’t put shit out for quantity purpose, but for the purpose of creating a new fresh idea, essentially.  I agree with this.  I don’t want to hear a song that is sucktastic, been done a thousand times, and offers me no escape from a twenty something existence of drinking, smoking, and being objectified and oppressed to the point of an asexual lifestyle.  I know now why Jeremy Gillitzer became anorexic, uninterested in sex completely, and recently deceased (R.I.P. life is tough at times).  He became like this because of really bad artists…

Please help.  Check out his name if you don’t agree.

Daily, I swear, daily I am forced to be involved with a sub-culture of music and art that most people pray to be a part of (I am confused why they would want to be a part of this sub-culture because the people who want to be in with this crowd do it for monetary purposes, but what they don’t realize is the enormous amount of starving artists that exist ubiquitously)

*This means most artists don’t get paid*.

So, I can hardly have a salad at work without a co-worker relating a story of how she could not sleep the night before because P.O.S. was laying down vocals for his new album in the next room all night long, sneaking in and out of her room  stealing her weed, and being loud creating inspiration.  To say the least I was staring at my napkin.  After she finished her story, I thought, wow, I like this person, but what was she trying to tell me really?  I assume she is telling me that she is fucking cool and I should talk to her.  I assume that this is an everyday life experience.  I breathe and sit in silence.  Something real happened.  Adios- I leave, but before I go I wave to Scott Seeker, a Minneapolis artist sitting across the way.  He is kind of a big deal up here, considering he dresses in one singular color all season, I think he doesn’t shower, or change his clothes ever.  I could do that and maybe then I could get a job teaching at MCAD, or working at the MIA discussing my art, or even have my paintings/artwork displayed.  Then again I don’t know anyone that high up, so I’ll keep writing…

I need to get out.  Artists are stalking me.

I think there are too many artists and not enough honest critics, or too many sub-par artists with friends who are critics.  Don’t get me wrong I think P.O.S. is cool, but I think hype is dangerous and misleading.  Its been a few years since an album, and I was not that fond of the first two; however, I see Sean everywhere, from the Nomad to venues like First Ave., and he shows respect (high-five, fist bump).  Name Drop…

I wonder, why people don’t invest more time in being better people as opposed to being mediocre artists, or better artists and better people in general.  Maybe its me, but I know a 100 hip-hop artists, about 10,000 painters, and about a million writers, and mostly they are good people and some are good artists.  I got 99 problems and art ain’t one.  Yet, somehow, I just can’t get into some of their work…

Even Scott Seeker couldn’t draw this comic.

I recall a time when I gave an honest critique to a recording artist who I enjoyed listening to.  The critique went something like this:  “You either listen to too much Aesop Rock, or not enough Aesop Rock”.  After my post I was berated by the artist.  I was castigated, and the artist became defensive.  He suggested he was different because of one thing, one specific and important thing.  That one thing:  He sang.  He was different because he sings and Aesop does not.  I never checked it out, but I assume Aesop does not sing.  I thought after that if all an artist has to do is be one different then I am well on my way.  I am one different then everyone else.  I don’t give a fuck about my audience as much as most people don’t give a fuck about shelling out work that is a pile of shit.  I am lying.  I am one  different at lying.  I am also one different at being like a bad penny.  If everyone is one different than the other person then that is all it takes to create art.  I no longer to listen to this artist.

I once went to Boston and stabbed all of the jellyfish on the beach with a stick.  I did not get shocked, because I was not grounded.  I was wearing rubber soled shoes.

***

The artist that I am thinking about at this moment is the guy outside of the free clinic holding the pamphlets, with a mindset that is totally against abortion.  This guy, he is good.  He is a true artist, not paid, standing in the cold in front of a clinic telling girls not to get an abortion in Downtown Minneapolis.  I am sure most girls see him and change their minds about the decision they spent moments thinking about.  I just know this guy is going somewhere…

I was running as fast as I could to get the Morning After Pill (thank God I run) and as I turn the corner out of the alley to the clinic entrance I am assaulted by these words, “There is a better way, it doesn’t have to be like this!”  Honestly, I was confused at first because if he were to talk to the Deer in the car he would get yelled at, she would not agree.  His spell would not have been effective on her, but to me I was in agreement with him.  If I could think of a better way to spend all of my student loan money, I mean besides the Morning After Pill and beer, it would have already been spent.  I briefly glance at the man, the Artist, and I realize he is truly passionate about his work.  He is one different at telling girls not to make guys buy them the Morning After Pill.  He is one different at standing in the cold telling people they are wrong.  I wish I was better at this so I could invest in a Trust Fund for my child instead of blowing my cash, but whatever.  This man is an artist, he even had his own pamphlets with contact info and everything.  I remember what he said.  It is now stuck in my head.  I ran out with the pill in my hand and didn’t even look in his direction…

 

***

This idea (this post) came to me when an ex-lover, well we still are in love, at least I am, came to me and told me not to change for others.  She said never write something that someone tells you to write.  I agreed, but I told her I already did that.  She told me that I needed a focus, a reason to write.  I told her I had no focus.  She told me everyone is a writer and I should not feel special about that title; she even, in fact is a writer herself.  I told her I didn’t feel special.  She told me that I should break out of my White Male Superiority Complex (WMSC:  the complex I have where I am rich and white and the CEO of some corporation that disparages minorities) and write something humbling.  I told her I would, I drank the rest of a beer and burped.  I then proceeded to purposely lose in pool as to do diamond push-ups on the floor next to the pool table.  I won the next game.  What I learned in this conversation:  pseudo interviews with ex-gfs are bias, Puss in Boots the movie will get you laid, Drake sucks and probably blows Lil Wayne in hopes that he will put out another one of his shitty albums, and that I am important enough of a writer to discuss how I need to be more humble.  Right…

I then humbly tell her how I do it:  I write a story, I then read the story 5 to 6 times, at least.  Until my eyes burn.  I then drink as much alcohol as possible, or that I have in the house, and publish it on the internet as so people can judge me.  Everything I write I truly care about.  After I get one hit I stop looking at my stats and let it go.  If people read it, or if they don’t I know they will love my picture at the top of the post.  The picture is of my toe nails, they are painted black…

Don’t do something for massive amounts of people, do something for yourself.  I hope this inspires someone to read, or to produce something amazingly interesting.  Do something one different, my one different is my toe nails…

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About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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