Puff the Magic Dragon (doesthemagkdrgn) wrote,
Puff the Magic Dragon

the beauty of blogging is...

it fills gap of our expressions.

In one Terry Pratchet novel (The Truth, i believe, ironically enough) a character is taken through all the people he has killed (he's a hired killer, funnily enough, so theres quite a few) but one in particular is a farmer who had done nothing wrong but happen to get out of bed when he heard a noise in his house and got up to investigate. He was nothing more than a farmer and was in no way impacted the world at all. He just happened to be the greatest mathematician of his time.

Often I think on this character. He was the greatest mathematician as known only by death (who is the one revealing all of the people killed by the killer to the killer) and was only known as a farmer. I wonder about how many others there have been, people who have been great philosophers, scientists, physicists, chemists or poets but have never been known because their thoughts were never written down, their teachings never taught, their opinions never heard.

Now we enter the modern day, where the ability to express is encouraged, even capitalised. Where strippers can write a blog and be noticed to be asked to write a movie (Juno) and every teenager and adult with wireless or cable connection can submit their thoughts to public scrutiny.

I enter this world thinking; Fuck, I have nothing to say.

14 months over seas (on this voyage) a note book of poetry (some even recited on stage) songs to be written, novels, plays, short stories, comic books, all on the go while doing online TESOL course and working 45hrs a weeks for 2 jobs, broke, spending days off alone in cafes with a used lap top, and I have fuck all to say.

I'll never finish a book because it'll never get published. I'll never finish a comic because it'll never get drawn. My songs are never recorded, my wisdom never known, and I wonder; how does one become the greatest mathematician when they are a farmer? If no-one knows that you can calculate the distance between the earth and the sun by measuring the height of a tree and triangulating to point you stand with the angle of your shadow, why do you then calculate the distance to the moon?

Because you can. Because you love to. Because the audience doesn't make the performer, it just makes it a performance.

I have so many stories and no more than any body else. I originally began writing this with the intent of expressing the inability to express my passions; my writing, until I realised that what really annoyed me was that I believed my writing would be completed and not be appreciated by anyone. Fare desire, we all want to be appreciated, but if this is the driving force we'll burn out faster that the life of a mayfly, because we'll never be fully appreciated, not for ever.

I do lament that none (in any foreseeable existence) of my creative creations will ever be published, but as I previously mentioned, I've performed my poems on stage and been congratulated for my work, so to claim I've never been appreciated would be to claim that the appreciation I have received has not been enough, which is too far from the truth for me to be comfortable with.

So though we attack the modern age of universal communication (and by We I mean Me, I'm willing to be the only one on this time if none agree with me) one benefit might be for others to see the possible genius that is the farm boy, even if we do have to sift through the emo arrogance and complaints of ego-centric artists.

Still, after all this, I still have nothing to blog about...
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic