S.B.T.373

why is creativity not always joyful?

you'd imagine it would be, by it's nature. but one of my colleagues once said "I do my best artwork when there's conflict in my life". And he said it matter-of-factly and without complaining, just stating the case.

in studying anything, like in creating anything, the old saying goes 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration, but I've always somehow taken exception to the idea that suffering would be required for one's best work, for instance, if the artwork were to have any soul at all, it's generation would be coming partly from intense feeling expressed through the process. But why would the feeling have to be about struggle? could it also be generated by intense feelings of joy? 

yes, it could, sometimes. still other times the disciplines in place, that of refining and integrating basic rules or principles, of conscious attention to detail, of striving for perfection, while keeping clarity of vision, and checking ego, and finding just the right touches, knowing when to stop, critiquing, etc. can be just plain hard work. um, are the spacelords who deposited enhanced dna on the planet happy with the result of their creative experiment? do they keep coming back in ufos to check and say "nah, we shouldn't have let that helix out of the cylinder"?

so what makes it feel hard? because you can "whistle while you work" if you want to.

desiring perfection might be one reason the work seems hard if one happens not to be maybe a completely desire-less unattached-to-anything-and-everything zen monk or something like that. or if one is as joyful as snow white and her friends in the kitchen, but as i recall from the fairy tale, things weren't always perfect for snow white either. perhaps the degree of perfection is the issue. "oh no no" she says "put them in the tub" which i would have said too if the squirrels were washing my dishes by licking them

the newly reworked "angels" 

in the company of angels, II

it's finally fun when it's done. 
ok, now it's done. i think, 
not really...
______________________________

S.B.T. 372

The Gyspy Cats




The Gypsy Cats


Here are the words, you can speak/sing along

Here come the wild gypsy cats

Strolling along

on the pathway in the wood

They wander without end

Searching out hidden dens

Yowling every night away

Prowling til the break of day

"Look at us leap for the moon

Look at us jump and

Twirl our tails around!"

"hello" we will say

"are you going to come our way?

will you give us food today?

we will fill our tummies full"

"Oh weeeeeee

are happy to be here

and never miss a single thing

As we wander on the wing"

Will you join in prancing

dancing, romancing

and purring, demuring

Come sing 

the purrfect little song

"La La La we're gypsy cats

La La La we're gypsy cats

we can't help but love it

the trees keep us above it"

"La La La we're gypsy cats

La La La we're gypsy cats

Hello we always say

Please put for us a snack-plate

La La La we're gypsy cats"

"Oh weeeeee 

are happy to be here

We never miss a single word

and we just might catch a bird"

Will you join in prancing

dancing, romancing

and purring, demuring

Come sing 

the purrfect little song

"La La La we're gypsy cats

La La La we're gypsy cats

we can't help but love it

because we're far above it

La La La we're gypsy cats!"

S.B.T. 371

harmonius colors


i was trying to decide what color scheme would be fitting all the grabage around hear. i thought persimmon and harmonies of it would be good camouflage, not just vecause it was the "color of the year" last year according to textiles and home furnishings sales reports but because it is a really nice color even though i wouldn't paint the walls with it. or maybe i should — or naybe i should fined out what the color is for this year.

"can i buy this pansy?" the little girl asked, wide-eyed. "you might as well," the skinny goth at the register said, "you're wearing every other color anyway. clash! "

so there's a process i work that transmutes color into sound. it's really not that omplicated in the basic structure, a tone/pitch for evry pixil, a sensitive scan, a tranation script, that comes out cool cuz i spell things rong.

here's what the new color scheme sounds like. all clutter to be persimmon and harmonious variations of it, with pine-pitch green and thirds of cold bar blue as accents.

harmonius colors

S.B.T. 370

chilly seaside spring

past storms of winter

trickle through the leaky roofs

like dreams remembered

damp walls tremble in wooden boots

and heaving fallen fences

lay to rest on rubble rocks

shards of glass and sand 

scatter over crisp roadways 

as hoarse engines weep the blues

rainbow puddles pinched by tires

twirling away will stop and park

near the horizons quiet smile

S.B.T. 369

things get disconnected

the woman's sari, by the sea, ran away with the wind,

the sound of linens out on the line

at the cottage by the beachgrass in March

walking back, through the sand, 

that whistle, whisper, whiplash filled the air

and only years later

i recall that the sari was pink

________________

S.B.T 368

just a minute

the page begs a platform 

2 steps down

either it is 

or it isn't til it is

about process

articulated 

 now that is

the network, strings

theory

a note on tuscany

what word was that;

didnt get thru it

or does it demand

intermediate

attention

what was that word again?




************************************




Happiness

Though dewdrops so delicate float and bubulate on the thin cord of a leaf,

rainbows glisten in their window, 

the tender ones who want the sky need bearing ,

a drop of water on a juniper leaf

looks so pretty, you'd think it was a jewel.

sanghe dancing in a black tutu

or different?

**************************

S.B.T. 367

right or wrong

Appreciate the sun, even in winter, as it melts the icicles before your eyes and later pulls green grassland from the soil, promenades with rain in a ripening hoe-down, and fruits, sweet, crimson and golden dance at the harvest masquerade. Yes, adorning silver platters and ming vases and everything down to a peasant’s wooden bowl. Everything is manisfestible, it’s a manifestival! So, my dear one, what do you need?