Wednesday, October 10, 2007

I Guess This An Essay

It seems like whenever I read something in praise of Pavement, the writer is also quick to note that there are some Pavement tracks they definitely don't like. These devisive Pavement slay tracks have included "Hit The Plane Down", "Brinx Job" and "Fight This Generation". I don't dislike any of Pavement, that is I think it's beside the point. If you want concision, you really shouldn't be listening to them in the first place. To some extent I've always loved artists, be they Allen Ginsberg or Pavement, who are willing to fall on their faces once in a while. I think the greatest rock record of all time is probably The Raincoats. So that establishes that I like what others might call sloppiness. Why do I care why I like what I like tho? Especially since my taste doesn't make all that much sense to me anyway. I've always resisted liking things that I should like, just because I like these other things. I know that there are some people who are obsessives and have an encyclopedic knowledge of certain types of music or poetry or cuisine. But I've always kind of thought that I would never be one of those people (who I respect!), because after about 1 to 2 thirds of the way into the steeping process I just lose interest and move on to something else. I'm actually lucky to have been born when I was, because if I were kid now, I would probably be on every ADD drug under the sun. Which doesn't seem right. But I like to think that there are times when I can use this short attention span to my advantage, in making inroads toward post-avant membership (ha HA), or at least being willing to fall on my face in the process. And then there's sincerity. If I write something, I really don't see why anyone should go about investigating whether I meant it. But I do believe in two things I guess: one is devotion and the other is seriousness. This is how I understand devotion. Once I've published something, I will care about whether it's recieved to some extent by an audience that appreciates it and loves it, and I will also care about how it is recieved by that audience. As an addendum I also subscribe to a loose idea of being commited enough to the process that one is willing write things that are potentially stupid, embarrassing or even petty. This ties into how I understand seriousness, that once I've started writing I will follow that through or least investigate until the thing itself seems to be exhausted. Does this mean that I have to be exhausted? I don't know. For example as I write this, I'm not winded. But I'm interested in your response.

5 comments:

andy mr. said...

Fight This Generation totally rules!

Mike H said...

Yes. Yes it does.

Jordan said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Robert J. said...

How do I get MY comment deleted?

The idea of seriousness here is one that surprises me, but one that I realize is necessary for most people who write poetry "seriously." You can't really be self-conscious about what you write at first, OR you have to get to a point where you know something is embarrassing, stupid, or even petty and be okay with it in the moment, which is a powerful sort of hyper-consciousness, on that I'm not sure I can handle in my own writing yet.

Thus, I don't have what you might call either devotion or seriousness -- I don't care many things through to exhaustion.

Can you lend me a nickel? Just send it in the mail, if you can. Send me a check for 5¢.

Mike H said...

Hey I don't know why your comment would've been deleted, but I can send you a 5 cent check postdated for christmas eve. Sometimes I don't know whether I see everything through either. And of course I wasn't try to make it out like you must be this or that. I think the point you make, "you have to get to a point where you know something is embarrassing, stupid, or even petty and be okay with it in the moment", is a pretty damn good one. Just that you would think about that proves you do go at it with some degree of seriousness.