The Jung Ones

by cunningstuff

CC license, the best new way I have found to sharing creatively.

Where is my Einstein? Where is my Hawking? I am lost, in a world of mediocre entertainment and trivial sidebars. I ask for greatness, but I get told to read 50 Shades of Fucking. I am saddened and disturbed by the shallow compass points people are relying upon in this world. I long for a more intense conversion of my time, I search through history, and when I return, I find that things have only gotten worse. I would like to think we have entered a great time of enlightenment, but I find the available pursuits to be petty and superficial, and people seem entranced by such vapid entertainment. All of my mates, and I do mean all of them, are entertained every weekend by athletes kicking a ball, or hitting a ball. I never meet people who want to think, and creation seems to be limited to either musicians or writers.

About 16 years ago, I was hanging out with my favorite band, and they were planning on their last show at the warehouse. They went on to perform a few times for years after, but we all knew that losing the warehouse was going to make shows hard to get. I was very lucky to have spent a lot of time with these folks, and I was in a position to help out. I asked, how many people do you think will come? 30-40 is what we got, and I said well, let’s do something from the other side, let’s make paper mache masks, and if you want to come, you have to wear one. For about two weeks, we all made these balloon based masks and head coverings. 50 of them, and just to see them lined up on the floor, well, it was nothing short of spectacular. I made about five myself, and they were all painted and decorated, and the girls went on to give one hell of a show. Masks can make people wild, wilder than normal, and that would describe that last show very well.

I want to discourse my philosophy with someone, but what I get is one of two responses. “I don’t discuss things like that.” or, “You should have a radio show.” I rarely get people who can actually carry on, and think with me. I expect you to know the basics, I expect you to know your history, your society, and I expect you to be involved, and I am rarely, with about two exceptions, ever met halfway. Aside from those two people, everyone just regurgitates either a political or media based opinion. I want to start a booth at festivals in america, where the tent has nothing but chairs in a circle, with a banner that says, “Entry cost: one intelligent personal conversation.”

About two years ago, I got very frustrated with the music scene in my local area. I seemed to be seeing a lot of local musicians who were dying to meet and greet and form up to do things, but we had no venue. A new bar opened up that seemed sympathetic to my cause, and I approached the owner to try to put together a musicians diversity jam, a place for new and old musicians to find each other and play together. I worked long and hard, set up a forums, printed and displayed flyers all over, with the same call, let’s get together, get some jazzy snazzy rhythms out, and have a new place to meet, in public. I had approximately 30 people show up, and then it happened. The sound man cut us off, installed two “jam” bands of his own, and never let us on stage. He sabotaged my bass tuning, detuning it every time I left the stage, his friends all filled up the sign in sheet so we couldn’t get on, and the owner told my second we had to be more aggressive…They played cover tunes of hippies and grateful dead all night, and we were ignored, pushed away, and ultimately, the entire thing was disgraced. And this was supposed to be an “open mic” night.

I would like to see a drop in the amount of recorded music we hear, and a rise in unrecorded music. My favorite kind of music is music made up on the spot, no rigorous schedule, no sheets of music, just people tuned into a rhythm and a beat, playing with each other, playing off each other. I know that is about as successful as people meeting to talk and think together. It seems we are locked into a decaying cycle, a cycle that can only include whatever is presented to us by think tanks of marketing, supplanting our individual curiosity and creativity. I talk a lot about how tough things are, and I do not see any end of it, because of this decaying cycle. Music is so approachable now, painting, art, words, speech, so fluid and changeable, but the mass minds are being directed by a bunch of dimwits.

We are coming out more with internet. I see changes happening for us, but I fear for us at the same time. I fear the consumerism has driven us to a vanilla existence, and our saviors are not going to be found in SoBo art galleries or Clear Channel radio stations. Mass media is slowly but surely killing off new ideas for the sake of profit in america, and it is a serious problem. I guess this is one of the reasons I have decided to become a writer, there are not many outposts of creativity left for us, and music seems to be a dead end oriented around profitability. Art seems to be either something disgusting to shock people into thinking or mild manipulations of entertainment leftovers from childhood. In writing I can explore issues, and even be incendiary, and I can not be stopped. Self publication even widens the ability for me to reach out and inspire people. I am slowly but surely defining my path for writing, more about that one tomorrow.

 

 

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