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If comments are Golden Rabbit Turds (tm The Hun) then I have been an Easter Bunny today.

Please don't read this thing if you came here from another site. It's For Madmen Only.


I've been occupied looking for a new occupation.

I'm very slow to change, but once I see that change is possible, that's it. It's inevitable.

So I'm looking for a new occupation, while trying not to feel all over the map and empty-headed and irritably depressed.



The same little local throwaway weekly that had the article on "Growing Up On MySpace" that originally drove me here (was it only, like 15 minutes ago?) had a story on the necessity of boredom to the creative process. The two stories seemed to go together.

We need boredom, downtime, lulls like the one I'm in right now, in order to feel the pull of a true current, towards a shore that's not just safe, but habitable. 'Boredom' doesn't even apply. It's more like necessary pauses. Like in music.






(And speaking of pauses, I'm resigned to the idea that anything I accomplish in this life will be done in chunks and spurts, like this. What I thought I was going to write has been interrupted and strangled out of imagination. So. Where was I?)

Oh yes.

- Would Jesus be Emo? Would he have had a Facebook page?

-Would anybody have uploaded the 30 lashes onto YouTube? How about that whole 'woman, behold your son' thing? Only if Mary was really MILFy? Would that Roman centurion have been carrying a Go-Phone under his skirt with a Coldplay ringtone, like the Swiss Guard I saw at the Vatican flirting in German with some lucky girl while we waiting in line outside the Sistine Chapel?

It's true, though, about the possibility of being documented making it almost mandatory for everyone to lead a documented life.

So the truly beautiful adolescent moments full of awkward grace and Ugly Duckling innocence are lost, dead, in this generation, where everyone is trying to be Miley or Audrey.

Or maybe it could have been a promotion, like Be Big On Buzznet - Take a Picture of God


Maybe we would have lost all the great stories, but demanded more Featured Photo-type evidence.

What the hell do I know.

I'm not really worried about camphones and electronic gadgets stopping people's flight from boredom. They don't work. They're fillers and opiates. My restored healthy restlessness once I quit photoblogging (except in spurts) convinced me of this.


Maybe it's because we've finally reached a saturation point. Look around and it seems like everybody who wants a web presence has one. It's like the last one of your parent's friends to bring a camcorder into the wedding chapel or labor room with them.

You can't film the magic. You can remember it, though.

And being saturated kinda helps you make the choice of what to document. What can be captured.



I'm not against the idea of spirit. Cameras have a place, too. How else would you know when everything is starting to steal your soul?


(Another thing I like to do when I'm in this springtime immobile-fertility state is to drive around and feel my growing panic at being lost, and the memories of those drunken drives where I was pushed out without my glasses on a dark road because...well, I thought it was because it was my fault that I always felt lost.

At times like this, I am always surprised by the cool disembodied text-to-talk benediction of my GPS, thrown into the glove box, guiding me safely home with the impassioned detachment of Ceiling Cat. If Ceiling Cat had a voice, it would be hers.