the blank page

ahh, the blank page. at once so liberating and so initimidating, the question (to love,) is: why do i write?

the answer is a mish-mash of catharsis, vanity and aptitude.

i write because i need to write. it is catharsis. when i write, i take the time to study my motives, to listen to how i've come upon a conclusion or why i've arrived at a certain place. if god is truly in the details, i understand god is understanding. i sense the little steps of meaning.

recently i have come to the realization that i have something of an authority complex. it did not just dawn on me one day while napping in the park. i arrived at this epiphany through a complex series of smaller epiphanies.

from an early age i distrusted the adult world. i had three childhood homes. in the first, my grandfather sat around the house collecting disability and devising new and improved ways of tricking people and padding his bank acount all the while tinkling cubes of ice in a glass of scotch whiskey. he was a severe man, wise in the ways of the world, dumb to the means of true happiness. next i lived in an abusive home wherein actions were dictated by a sinister drug; heroin. finally, i spent my teen years in a fundamentalist christian environment. instead of thoughtful answers to questions, instead of conclusions drawn from standing on the shoulders of giants, i received stock dogma.

writing has been my redemption and my reward. writing allows me to hear what impels me through my days. writing helps me to shhhhhhh.

it is funny too, i am so insecure about my writing. i want anyone who reads it to like it. i want them to consider it worth reading or at least satisfactorily written. moreso, i want someone who writes to consider it a quality product, (because i think in writing they must have some kindred aspect to myself.) simultaneously, i really do write for me and i could hardly care less how it is received or if it is received. (most of what i have written has never been seen or heard by anyone but me.)

still, i write. here, on a blog. in a file i call (ingeniously enough,) "writing," in email, on smack boards in cyberspace, in journals kept at the side of my bed, in the note pad of my blackberry, in a personal file at work, whenever and wherever. whatever. it is not a sentence, nor is it a glory. it simply is.

korn again

get ready to be sold. emi group is giving korn about a $15 million advance in return for an over 25% stake in their sales, publishing, merchandising and touring revenue.

read the article in the la times, (click header,) and you may get the feeling it is a groundbreaking deal people interested in business should ooh and ahh over. it seems barnumian in so much as the record company is banking on their ability to sell you a product.

the product, of course, is korn's music and image. an emi executive is quoted in the article saying the quality of the soon-to-be-released record played a role in the commitment the company made to the band.

in fact, the company has merely negated the risk they usually confront. by committing the upfront money to a band whose sales have dropped over their last two albums, (and 5+ years,) significantly, they are simultaneously committing to spending enough money to ensure sheep will listen. by sheep, i mean the easy targets of marketing who never consider the fact they are being marketed to and are indifferent about the effect of that marketing on their lives.

emi has assessed the risk and calculated statistical information on how their investment will perform and they have found the numbers wholly agreeable. they are now set to persuade the public and bully their way into markets they were not formerly a part of.

with all the record industry has been going through, you had to know these executives were conspiring on how to save their places in an industry that has produced massive amounts of wealth for a relative few.

i hated the way things turned out with napster. by protecting the artist's rights, courts have chosen to support industry over humanity. a kid in a room in italy likes a record so much, he wants to put it up on his website for anyone to download and enjoy just as much, (connecting him incidentally to a kid in hoboken, and let's face it, there is only so much music one person can consume,) is vilified in favor of the idea that the artist can own this piece of art they created in such a way they deserve the right to collect on it from virtually everyone who enjoys the record too, or even doesn't enjoy it but for whatever reason was allured enough to make the purchase.

the artists are kings, the recording industry is the catholic church and collecting is the divine right.

if this right was taken from the artist, he or she would have more avenues to make money but might be less likely to make the sheer volume of profit that may well be available to korn as they embark on a relationship that will severely hamper their ability to make business, if not artistic, decisions. not only is there not anything wrong with forcing the artist to work harder and perhaps in a more locally oriented way, it would create an environment that would push back on the globalization and homogenization currently having a greater and greater impact on the industry and the quality and diversity of product available.

korn has recently hauled in about 20% of what they did in the late '90s. their angle is clear. struggling band wants to maintain spot in current canon of globally available artists for obvious reasons. by giving up unprecedented control of their business, they get the golden egg of top notch, well funded, marketing.

(go ahead, sing the reel big fish song with me: "sell out, with me today. sell out!")

if you are one who will go out and buy the korn record, you are one of the sheople. you do not mind being manipulated. the integrity of your taste is seriously in question. because of the relationship between the artist and the corporation, the product has to be ba-aa-aa-aaad.

walk on

terra took four steps at 10 months, and one week, (or 8 days to be precise.) she never looked back from there. never was interested in crawling really. only invested seven weeks on it.

some day i want terra to know she began walking at this age. i suppose i want her to know everything really. i want her to understand as much as she can so she can make the best decisions possible.

three weeks later she disdains crawling altogether. sometimes she wobbles, (but then, who doesn't?) mostly she sets her mind to something she must investigate and she walks to it. there she attempts to taste it, she pokes it with her index finger like she is interrogating a surly suspect, and she tries to pick it up and drop it. or throw it, though her throws have a soft touch tossing sort of style.

tonight she handed a ball off with me, back and forth. her brain is whirring as she pieces together how to operate herself, a little like a loony factory worker unsure of the capabilities and controls of his machinery, sure, but with an aptitude and improvement curve that would blow your socks off.

she is a little girl, so full of promise and delight, so life-affirming. i am anxious to see her choices. i'm anxious to teach her and learn from her, a process in full swing, really.

i'm anxious but patient for all of our shared experiences: active vacations and games and holidays and lazy afternoons and open houses and the both of us snuggling up to her mother during rainy, thunderstorming nights.

i'm anxious but patient for her experiences: school and work and social activities and learning music or a foreign language and staying up late with her friends, baking, kissing a boy, backpacking in europe or joining the peace corps and travelling to a faraway land, starting a family or doing something great.

i'm anxious but patient for the difficult times too. i'm sure a day will come when i will be chagrined by her behavior. i know we will grieve together and i hope i am a good example and deserving of her trust through the worst of times. i expect she will suffer disappointments and i hope i hide my own disappointment well and bathe my reaction in love.

the world is open to us, me and terra. she is a child in the world and i am a child of the world. i sense my essence in the imaginary question mark i see hovering over her head. from here we grow together, learning to live in love.