some vs. us
some people work from home.
some people work from home in the nude.
some people who work from home in the nude answer the door in the nude when the UPS man rings the doorbell.
some people who work from home in the nude hug the UPS man when greeting him at the door.
some people who work from home in the nude play in the sprinkler on the front lawn.
some people who work from home in the nude while playing in the sprinkler on the front lawn and hugging the UPS man while nude and wet, also eat lots of popsicles.
some of us like to play with very sharp knives.
some of us actually get stuff done.
but only we do these things...all of these things...while clandestinely controlling the minds of millions.
disease
i worked for three years in a rotting, car-exhaust-fumigated, seismically unsafe office. we never dusted. every time i reached down to pick something up from under the desk my fingers came up black.
we recently moved to a brand new office building. they had barely painted over the sheetrock tape. some of the ceiling panels were still pushed aside, bundles of fiberoptic hanging down like the guts of an eviscerated deer.
my hippie voodoo doctor made me clutch a small glass vial full of clear liquid to my heart and pushed down on my arm. "yep - that new office is poisoning you with formaldehyde fumes."
i guess what i'm trying to say is - just because it's new doesn't mean it's good for you. that new marketing plan. that new district manager. that new catchy corporate buzzphrase, like "total quality!" or "culture of service!"
ask what the oldest, bitterest, most hidebound old fucker in your organization thinks should happen. of course, you won't, because you think you know what's good for your organization. fine then. don't come running to me when by playing it safe, you continue to play with the little leagues.
as soon as you're ready to move out into deeper waters, where the scary sharkasauruses swim - ask that bitter old man in the boiler room. he will teach you how to land that motherfucker with a paperclip dangling from a thread.
fair warning
the only thing certain is uncertainty. the only viable belief is doubt. even disillusionment is ephemeral. even our worst case scenarios are dwarfed by the actual; we cry when our dog is killed on a rainswept street, only to be crushed by a rolling log truck seconds later.
it's worse than you think it is, so don't fear and don't despair. pretend you are superman, because smart people gave up hope long ago. reason isn't going to get you where you need to go.
you think you're a "flipout" artist? you don't even know the meaning of flipping out. the flipping out you REALLY need to do you probably are too chicken, weak, stupid, ineffectual and lazy to accomplish.
so flip out. do it. be prepared to hold nothing back, go all the way, and completely abandon the very framework containing your self-limiting neuroses. because you love them. you really do. they're comforting, like the smell of your own effluvia.
"quit your job"? "commit suicide"? "kill your boss/parents/etc."?
small fucking potatoes, bitch. do you have the guts to actually
kill the voice inside your head? all that other stuff is the
easy way out.
how do you kill the voice in your head?
i give you the words of todd rundgren:
You know, wishing won't make it so
Hoping won't do it, praying won't do it,
Religion won't do it, philosophy won't do it
The Supreme Court won't do it,
The president and the congress won't do it
the U.N. won't do it, the H bomb won't do it
The sun and the moon won't do it
God won't do it, and I certainly won't do it
That leaves you, you'll have to do it.
-- "Fair Warning", by Todd Rundgren. Copyright 1975 by Earmark Music/Screen Gems
The Gun Was Heavy
The other night I dreamed I was setting in a dimly lit living room with my father. I cannot say it was any living room I've ever known, but that's the way it is in dreams.
My father was sitting in a handsome leather recliner. The stitching was ornate – pinched with thick white stitching that crisscrossed and created a rise.
Dad had a gun to his head. A pistol. I didn’t know what kind, but I don’t know much about guns.
I was shocked but acted otherwise.
“Wow,” I said, “I was hoping to inherit that. I don’t want it all filled with blood. I’ve never seen that pistol before. Let me see that.”
I was thinking about the other kids. They were young and running around. I didn’t know these kids but they were my siblings. I was glad that they didn’t have to hear the shot. I was glad to know that they wouldn’t have to run in on the bloody corpse of their father.
He handed me the gun. It was ornate and heavy. Very heavy. I can still feel its weight in my hands. It had a snubbed barrel. It looked like some sort of pirate weapon.
Upon closer inspection, I realized that the gun wasn’t even loaded. I berated him for his cowardice. I hated him for trying to steal emotions from me. Though my love for my father never changed, my concern, then relief/anger, kept me from showing that I did care.
We don’t do stunts.
dealing with disillusionment
eventually, if not perpetually, we will be met with an instance [if not many instances] in which our hard, productive labors are met at best with indifference and ignorance and at worst with outright scorn; and to rub salt in the wound, our greatest reward and recognition comes from our most florid lies, or simply from looking busy in just the right way. perhaps we have been shining along our business associates for so long that they'll never be able to tell the difference, since nobody in the entire world of western technological capitalism has anybody truly been interested in the bottom line or results - no one even knows how to accurately measure the bottom line or results. instead, they
want their delusions stroked to the point of orgasm.
people in the business world, which some dubiously refer to as "the real world", thrive off of a culture in which the most commonplace activity is the circle-jerk.
this is obviously quite disillusioning to those of us who grew up thinking that grown-ups got things done. obviously there are things that need to get done. obviously something got done or we'd probably all be dead by now. or maybe things just kind of happen and we're all like nuts running around in a madhouse. the point is - our culture, our society, our
civilization doesn't reward hard work, intelligence, or any measure of worthiness. so we have to start questioning the rewards themselves.
do you really want money? well, of course you do, but let's split hairs here for a second.
do you really want money, or the things that you believe money can buy? and do you really want those things, or do you want the things those things can buy?
to reiterate a rather pedestrian point already peddled by wiser minds,
you probably already have those things in your possession.
the key to creativity is to
stop thinking about results. you're not going to get anything out of it, so stop looking for that. instead, true creativity involves
embracing a day-to-day, moment-to-moment process.
the hard thing for us westerners is that the idea of discipline is like poison to us. it's like garlic to vampires. so pull the wool over your own eyes: don't call it discipline, don't call it a "practice". instead, call it "melons", or "car seats", or "sunday mornings", or "french toast." call it whatever you want. but acclimate yourself to doing something over and over again you don't understand.
it's called magic; it's called ritual. make shit up. the stranger the better.
do something over and over again you don't understand. ask it questions. this is called an oracle. it is where the wisdom of the ages comes from.
i'm serious. it does. you can ask anybody.
it's called alchemy. do something over and over again you don't understand, and record the results. "day 57: 5 o'clock p.m. took shower while holding an empty bottle in my left hand. put the bottle on the table. stuck a flower from outside in the bottle. waited for an insect to land on the flower. killed insect and put it in the bottle. went to the mailbox and got the mail. tore the photo out of a 'have you seen this child?' circular and put it in the bottle. wrote down an insult i heard as a child on a scrap of paper, rolled it up and put it in the bottle. got depressed thinking about how stupid this crazy ritual is, and thinking about my ex-wife; cried; put the tissue with tears and snot on it into the bottle. 'did' myself, put tissue in bottle. dog threw up a little, put some of the dog barf in the bottle. found some of ex-wife's perfume in the cabinet; put some in the bottle. phone rang, collection agency. doodled on a scrap of paper while listening to collector's idle threats. hung up, rolled up the doodle and put it in the bottle. took a sip of beer #18 since getting up this morning; poured a little in the bottle. cut my finger on the can by accident, squeezed some blood into the bottle. another insect landed on the table, killed it and put it in the bottle. got sick and tired of this so went to neighbor's house to bum a cigarette. put the butt in the bottle.
"finally, so very tired of this bullshit, took an old T-shirt and soaked it in contents of bottle. wore the t-shirt to investor's meeting underneath dress shirt and tie. it was hot in the office, AC was down; people kept asking me if i was OK. got a lot of dirty looks. there is no hope, no hope at all. will see what happens after doing this exercise the third time. if by the end of the third time nothing happens, will definitely DRINK contents of bottle, thus committing suicide...hopefully."
DISCLAIMER: your results may vary. it is not recommended that you eat, drink, inject, snort, smoke, anally/vaginally/urethrally insert, or otherwise consume, imbibe, or take in any or all substances created during this process. this blog is not liable for any injury, illness or death resulting from any of activities herein described. always consult a physician and/or mental health specialist before conducting unusual experiments on yourself, including but not limited to actual suicide. don't hurt yourself. don't kid yourself. get some sleep. it'll all look better in the morning.
notes on process
now is the time to begin, according to goethe's famous aphorism, invoking the powerful forces of initiation. it may be useful to catalog some of the tools you've acquired. do not be exclusive at this point; include everything. for instance, some idiot, possibly your mother, told you to "make lemonade out of lemons" or some such bullshit. include this on the list. [better make a list. yellow legal pad and a 25 cent bic ballpoint, the white shelled kind they sell in bags of 50 that have a medium point, should do the trick. the flow is easy and you can throw them away without feeling bad.] so go to the store and buy a sack of a dozen organic lemons, some natural spring water if you don't have filters at home, and some sucanat. cut up the lemons into flat slices and boil all of them in a large pot with 2 cups of sucanat [or one quarter cup of stevia or similar concentrated natural sweetener] and enough of the purified water to cover the lemons twice over. when the water comes to a boil lower it to a simmer. when you have noticed the level of the liquid having reduced below the top of the lemons, pour it off into a jar. this mixture is, i believe, about 1 cup per gallon of water to make lemonade, put you may adjust this to taste. drink this lemonade constantly. for added enjoyment add a few large sprigs of fresh rosemary to the pitcher.
your next assignment is to take the next bullshit aphorism someone told you about getting things done - "rome wasn't built in a day" for example - and go out and get one of those children's pop up books of roman architecture, or make one of your own if you have a coffee table book you don't mind mutilating with an exacto knife, and build rome. get it done in a day. keep it in plain sight of your work area.
next, take another annoying presupposition or bogus truism and execute it in a concretized literal fashion. let's pull another one out of our ass. "do unto others as you would have them do unto you" - that's a nice one. okay. get seven envelopes, seven small pieces of paper, seven stamps, and seven one dollar bills. oh, and one of your nice new white-shelled bic pens. send each dollar bill to a friend or acquaintance with a quick note - "i am sending you this dollar as a magic ritual. no response is necessary. please spend this dollar in any way you see fit." record any reactions or responses, including your own. do this process periodically - monthly, bi-monthly, etc. don't expect a damn thing to happen - simply record any and all reactions or responses, including your own.
finally, take something you've always heard said but never really believed - "good things come to those who wait". if you have a back yard, go out there with a chair and have a seat; otherwise conduct this exercise on a park bench. bring a bag of some kind, paper and pen. you may wish to bring water and snacks as well. sunglasses and a hat might also be required. so the first thing that falls out of the trees or is blown in front of you by the wind, pick up and put in the bag and catalog it on your note pad - a leaf. a twig. a feather. a dead mole. a bird turd. a piece of trash. anything that falls or blows or arrives physically in some way: collect it. catalog it. we will use these items in a later exercise. wait for as long as possible while collecting and cataloging these "good things". if you wish, also note your own personal reactions and responses to this exercise, including conversations with passers-by wondering what the fuck it is you're doing, police officers suggesting you "move along now", etc.
report back to me any results you may have, and watch this space for further instructions.
more on the subject of creativity
you have probably guessed by now that this is a blog about how it might be possible to quit working forever, and instead manage to live off of one's creativity. a great deal has been written about this; in fact, one could be crushed to death, buried alive, or at the very least beaten black and blue with the weight of books about how to live creatively falling off the shelves of your local bookstore. every week it seems like there's a new one. have you noticed that they don't really help, and leave you feeling more depressed afterwards?
the trick is, you have to stop seeing the situation at hand as a
problem to be solved, or an
opportunity to be capitalized upon. what you must instead choose to see before you is a
bottomless fucking pit, filled with the echoes of the moans and screams of the damned, and force yourself...in whatever way you normally would force yourself to do things...to jump in. headfirst, if possible.
instead of operating in survival mode - writing business plans, organizing focus groups, seeking investors, shopping for office space, scamming on 'interns', etc. - what is of utmost importance, right now, is to identify the single most terrifying aspect of the entire enterprise - the one element that causes you to shake with fear, break out in cold sweats, and fart boiling gas as if you had swallowed drano - and then
rush headlong in the direction of that thing - now! or as they say in hospitals -
STAT!!!
for some of you for instance, that most terrifying thing may be standing up in front of people and presenting your vision with the implicit goal of getting their money on the table.
do it; and do it without underwear, with your fly unzipped. touch yourself while speaking. if possible, leave a visible wet spot. then make sure and shake hands with everyone in the room before they can leave.
if your most terrifying thing is writing a business plan, drop everything you are doing, get a big stack of typing paper, and start at the top by writing in blue Bic medium-point: "I AM FUCKING INVINCIBLE!" fold the piece of paper and carry it around with you. every time you are blocked in your writing, do this exercise.
if your most terrifying thing is spending money - either securing real estate/office space, investing in new computer hardware, or hiring staff - go to your ATM machine right now, withdraw the maximum amount allowed, roll it and rubberband it and put it in your underwear. make sure people can see the bulge. after wearing the money for at least a day, pay your initial big expenditure out of that fund, even if it's simply for the taxi ride to your first investor meeting.
at this very moment, a madwoman is pealing bloodcurdling screams off of the canyoned walls of the campus wherein my current office is located. take opportunities like this as a chance to open yourself to the fact that everything you fear is possible, but nothing is worse than the fear itself, which is what madness is. sorry to get all serious on you for a second there.
stop bullshitting and start believing in what you actually want to accomplish, which you know in your heart you are fully capable of. it's only your beliefs that tell you that what you really want costs more than you ca afford. you're just using the wrong currency.
write yourself a check for the amount of money you want to make in a year, and date it next year. carry this around with you at all times.
always carry a pair of your beloved's undergarments with you. nothing could possibly ground you more, if you are given to useless flights of fancy.
get to work having fun, and stop frittering your life away working!
it's already august and i still haven't taken over the world
why do our best creative impulses seem to visit us when we have completely lost our minds, meanwhile our ordinary state of mind causes us to over-think which type of salad dressing we should use?
the trick is to destroy the ordinary state of mind, and exchange it for the "lost" state of mind. when you are able to force yourself into that state in which everything is a surprise - even the next time the stick hits the snare drum - then you are in that place of optimum creativity.
unfortunately, that is when the pen melts.
for this reason it is important to carry around a dictaphone at all times.
