I would like to begin by telling you
that I am in no way a professional writer. In fact I am quite
amateurish at that. I decided to write this while sitting on the
toilet no less. This a sort of account , is my quest to express my
ever expanding creative mindset. Always adrift in motionless moments
within my mind, trying to fit them together as if they were piece of
my own jigsaw reality. A puzzle not yet complete as I suspect it is a
metaphor for my life. But chiefly, and at the heart of my tale is one
of struggle. The time period is my life and I am its battlefield, on
which I wage war within myself to find just what it is I am meant to
do with my creative nature.
The battle began when I was sitting in
our local Recreation Centre watching my best friend play pool. We
were listening to Metallica at the time and I remember being severely
influenced by music. By this time in my life the seeds of
musicianship had already been planted and I was playing along to my
favorites bagging pillows with my drumsticks. Not much went on at the
Recreation Centre. We listened to heavy music and played pool. This
was routine for two summers but something was about to happen. . The
hours of Metallica and Pool blossomed into my best friend serenading
the ladies with his tab by the minute guitar skills. I felt like an
idiot standing there with only two drum sticks in my pocket, watching
my friend play to the amazement of our female counterparts. I was
smart enough to know that any attempt at displaying a musical
accompaniment with only two pieces of wood... would look ridiculous.
The gears were in motion, and so began the conflict. It was time to
learn how to play the guitar.
When I mastered the guitar to my
satisfaction it began to solidify the creativity inside of me. For
the first time in my life I could call myself an artist of sorts. The
guitar I wielded became my first real weapon. Though it was a damaged
old Yamaha, it bore the characteristics of a family sword handed
down, bearing the scars of conflict. It allowed me to channel
emotions that I could not really express or control before my
new-found effective, creative outlet came to be. While I was honing
my skills and my need for spontaneous creation most of my friends
were reading through tab books learning how to play other peoples
songs. It was almost early gained fame for some of those guys but I
wanted to use my ever growing arsenal of riffs and runs for a greater
purpose. Five years of diligent practice were dedicated to this
purpose.
Unfortunately, But my struggle to find
a proper device of creative delivery continued because as music and
the creation of, became a stale game.
After those years of musical driven
internal combustion, I found myself adrift in my mind. It seemed that
my art became internal self distraction. I became numb having few
ways to better interpret my creative desires. I never really was
effective just sitting around thinking all the time. My walls adorned
with articulate “Mind Paintings” rooted in the reality offered by
depression.
Music had faded from my life but my
creative impulses continued to manifest themselves in the form of
casual conversation and sporadic rage. I was no longer waging the
same kind of war. There was something very personal about everything
that was happening around me. I became attached to moments as if
they were the canvas upon which I thrust every emotion . My mind
morphed into a strategic center for random inspiration, rather than
brutal power cord driven cannon fire. The conflict is still within,
but no longer limited to my potential as I turn my sights to the
UnTHINKable. Now I find myself sitting down and writing just what it
is I was thinking when I was sitting on the porcelain throne.
And this is where is rest my condition.
It is my first attempt at sharing with you an important part of my
struggle to find what it is I am meant to do with existence. To find
something I can bring with me to battle every-day when I face the
challenges of my imagination. Something beyond what I think of
writing while in the bathroom. This is only but a small offering and
I would like to bring you more from time to time, as I test my feel,
and developing need to write, to tell, and to share something with
all of you.
Vice
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