Sorrows of a Young Man

The sorrows of a young man in the city, being a palimpsest of Goethe's Werther.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

A young lover

You know I'm the kind of guy who likes to find a cozy place to build a little nest and settle down for a while. I found this place here, too.

About an hour away from the city there's this little town with a big skyscraper watch-out thing on top of a hill. Getting up there, you can see the whole country. The nice middle-aged lady there serves coffee, wine and everything. Then there's this postmodern art construction in front which just tops everything. I'm sitting down there on my plastic chair, smoke a bit, look around the place, and read a book (Eco, at the moment). The first time I came across this place by accident, getting out of the woods near-by, I found it to be really lonely and quiet. There was this little four-year old boy playing with a Japanese toy robot in a funny and caring way. I was smiling and took out my sketchpad and put the two happy brothers on paper.
I put some of the surroundings on the paper as well, and after about an hour I found the whole thing to be quite good, without feeling that I put much of an effort into it. That convinced me to do some more outdoors sketching in the future.

Those lonely villages and busy small towns outside the big city are so rich and able to teach an artist. All those rules you find here, you want to praise them like middle-class society. You won't ever find true evil if you tune yourself into this setting, you won't become a psycho-killing neighbor. So people would like to think, anyway. But then again, all those rules, standards, and conventions... somehow they're destroying the true meaning of nature, and the nature of man. Maybe you're saying that's far off, conventional settings, binding rules... they're like cutting the bonzai tree that would otherwise die. Just a bit here, a bit there.

But let me tell you, it's just like with love. A young lover is sticking to his girl, spending all day with her and every hour in it, wasting all his energy and fortune. Giving everything. And then along comes this pragmatic old office guy and he's like, "Young lover, you need to love, sure, but do it in a normal and human way. Take some hours a day off for work & business, then take the rest of the day for your woman. If you got some money, well, buy a gift or two here and there (like for her birthday), but don't waste it. Trust me, you'll be a better man."
Well this is all reasonable and well and I'd give the advice to anyone who wants to become a politician and what-not. But this really kills love. (Especially the love of an artist.)

I'm telling you... just why is the stroke of genius so rare in our world? It's because of all the people with their realism, their rules, standards, wisdom, experience and conventions. It's those people to each side of the river of creativity, those people settling down in their little houses with their little garden and their little dog who gets a little bit of water everyday and a bath once a week, and their fence and walls put up around the place... trust me, this setting is made to keep away the water from the river, because to them, it seems dangerous.

[A young lover]

Kids don't know why they want what they want

Many have felt that life's like a dream, and same goes for me. If I see the restrictions put upon our curious and wondering mind... when I see how all moves being made to satisfy needs, the kind of needs that seem meaningless, except they serve to prolong our existence... and when I realize that all we achieve and learn is just us plastering the walls of our little cell with colorful things. The stuff that makes you just want to shut up. I'm acting all introvert getting back and into this world inside me. More in a dark need and sense of something, then doing a big move with powerful expression. And then things start to blur and I get this dream-like smile watching the shapes of the world.

Every shrink and scientist could tell you that little kids don't know just why they want what they want. But then you realize all those matured folks are just walking the same grounds, adults not knowing where they're coming from, or where they're heading to. Acting without real purpose, just the same, being ruled by hot coffee, lunch-break sandwich, and evening dinner. Nobody seems to believe that and yet I feel like I can grab it with my hands.

I'd like to say you're right if you're going to say, those that live like kids, carrying around their dolls all day (putting on a nice costume on them)... those are really the luckiest people. And when they get to taste a piece of the big pie, they stuff their mouth, scream "More of that", and are happy beings. Just like those who give their useless job (within the scheme of an even more useless career) grand titles, pretending they're doing big deeds to mankind. I tell you I admire those who can pull it off.
But I dare you to realize, being humble and all, where all this is leading. If you're seeing how obedient every citizen is in keeping his part of the sidewalk clean and making the windows shine... and cleaning that car that's supposed to drive him to paradise... and how quiet we keep, carrying along our burden, and everyone's just all happy to see the sun shine one more minute.
I dare you to realize all that... because then you have to be quiet, build a world inside your self, and try to get happiness out of just being human. But at least, if you see all the restrictions and walls and borders... you got the sweet sound of freedom ringing in your heart... knowing that you can leave this jail whenever you feel like it.

[Kids don't know why they want what they want]


For all entries, see the archive.

[RSS XML Feed]