anthem of a poignant reality

There are days when all those secrets and issues come back to me like an extended, slow, acid flashback. 

There was something boldly experimental and oddly personal about me back then. The only way I can explain it is that I was fearless. I had nothing to lose because I had been less than nothing. 

I was living by my heart, my mind, my wits, and my passion. I’d developed a truth that mattered to me as much as anything I’d ever been involved in, and I wanted to apply my intellect and strength to making the world a better place. 

I spent the next twenty years playing the role of the semi-conscious hipster, chronicling the intense, beautiful, brutal violence of all those people who got burned by life and had to make up for bad decisions and lost time. 

Even though I thought I was sensitive to the emotional complexities of what it was like to live in the world during that period, it was difficult for me to distinguish between what was real and what I fantasized about. 

So, I stuffed most of those pages in a folder labeled Yesterday’s Cheap Thrills and focused on what was selling in those days: self-imposed angst, exploitation, lowbrow pulp, etc. 

But no matter how inventive and honest I was or how hard I worked at tweaking and amplifying the language to satisfy the aesthetic and thematic requirements of those clumsy submission guidelines, I could never get past those tricky neon-light gatekeepers. 

Maybe because those sad, silly stories had too much pain and not enough art. 

Maybe because they didn’t possess the kind of ecstatic beauty that most editors climax over. 

Or maybe because they just sucked. 

I like to think that beneath all my noise, I had moments that could be described only as exceptional, and I had the capacity and capability to do so much good. 

And even if the only thing I’m remembered for is my comprehensive knowledge of the angry and the marginalized, I still tried to sneak something heartfelt into the conversation every now and then and ask the mysterious and alluring question of whether or not under the persona was an ambitious man that worked diligently at hiding it. 

The answer may be finally in.

Reviews

[roarke]

Well, first, I can relate…although not for the same reasons…or maybe because of the same reasons…I dunno.
In regards to “art”, I’ve learned the first thing to do is make a determination as to what and why you are doing something. But even before that, you have to be “good with” the fact that you are doing it, not anyone or anything else. If you are creating for a commercial/competitive/profitable purpose… then sadly it requires a high degree of compromise and assimilation…. Profits are OBJECTIVE… art is solely subjective… and ya gotta be good with that. The old saying, you can please some of the people ….you know the rest, but , bluntly, screw ‘em. If I got to do my twenties all over again, and still chose art, I’d focus on ONLY my personal expression, and then if I didn’t garner any interest, I’d develop my own gallery…etc. But that was then, this is now. One very important part of NOW, is holding on to your experiences, each and every one. Today there is a strong, aggressive element working to minimalize individual experience, invalidate it. As artists, our creativity comes directly from our inner and outer experiences. In other words, individual, unique, imaginative. If that part of creativity is invalidated….then art is dead.
As we come to grips with our own experiences, decade after decade, it’s that evolution, that synthesis that forges our creation. There’s no corporate algorithm that can mimick that. Yet, that’s what’s being sold to the general public, society…. Lambs to slaughter… Now pushing 70, I finally realize all my artistic, creativity in art, music, writing and now photography, is ME…. What ever, whom ever that is… and it’s something, not nothing. So I guess in summation, better late than never, eh?

[Philip Gaber]

I feel like "There’s no corporate algorithm that can mimick that" is the summation of our attitudes toward consumerism, whatever form that may take. I'm pushing 60, bro. We're both on the precipice of severe loss of identity in this country. I won't lament about it because that is now the youngers problem. I'm done attempting to solve anything, anymore. Goodbye and thanks for all the fish, peeps!

[roarke]

Heh, I’m in accord… but I’m gonna hang around for the tiramisu

[Philip Gaber]

Ha! Fer sure, maaan!

[Sapphus]

I enjoyed this story. Thank you.

[Philip Gaber]

Thank you, Sapphus.