Buy Real Estate in Imaginary Places

So, Busdriver’s been inspiring me, but more below than above. I just thought you might want to know why I called the post that.

Also, would anyone who wants to help my creative composting pass comments on yesterday’s post, as I need help.

I also need to know how the hell I can research the spiritual/political aspects of the BDSM and fetish community. Ideally whilst only looking at sites that are safe for work and don’t contravene my anti pornography ethics.

This genuinely is research. Basically I need to look at how unusual sexual practices can be a significant part of politcial rebellion and used to feed spiritual growth.

This book is going to be weird. I really don’t know quite where this stuff is coming from.

Anyway, imaginary places, that’s our theme for today.

You see, we, as creative people, spend our time in imaginary places. Busdriver is right, we have real estate there, we get it in our childhood, and most people sell it off as the ‘grow up’. Creative people (by which I mean most people who haven’t ’sold out’ themselves, or who haven’t been forced by circumstance to live in hell on Earth), use the fact that we’re far enough up Maslow’s hierarchy of needs to not have to worry about survival and comfort to buy holiday homes in unreal worlds.

I’m making it sound like a bad thing, but only because I’m getting that whole middle class/catholic guilt thing I always get when I’m sitting around in my dressing gown indulging bizarre hobbies in an incredibly wasteful fashion.

This post is never going to get on track.

We create. People create. All people do it. Most people’s real world is more imaginary than real. There’s the way we extrapolate from the information that we know what is going on around us. I can’t see my housemate right now, but my imagination has sent them off to work or to see their friends and family.

In fact anything could’ve happened. Now I’m scared. My imagination is starting to conjure up traffic accidents and falling pianos. Now I’m worried.

Paranoia is one of those grand pieces of mental real estate. I think we all get it. I know I do. Recently I’ve been told many times that I’m not as annoying as I think i am when I’m drunk, apart from the fact that I keep on asking whether I’m being an annoying wanker. That’s annoying.

So I’m stuck here, in my shitty, little room. There’s laundry everywhere, empty beers (none of them actually mine) broken cds and piles of unwatched dvds. Then there’s my head, full of regrets, doubts and painful memories.

Yet I spend more time happy than not (maybe). There’s my imagination on my side. It sends me to other people’s places, I can visit middle earth whenever I want (I don’t even bother to read any more, I just picture the landscapes from my memory….trying to avoid the films, because that way they’re much more fun…the landscapes I mean, not the films), or midkemia, or the Martian hovels, or the dark urban landscapes.

But then there’s my worlds. These are so much more fluid. They almost don’t exist.

Well….obviously, they actually don’t exist. (Unless I start getting into pantheistic solipsism again). But I mean something different to that. I mean they are merely areas of my mind, shifting fluid and undefined.

It’s because I haven’t written them yet.

I’ve talked about negative entropy before. It’s basically my conception of creativity, art and writing (and to an extent, living life) as being a process of defying entropy. As we live, as we write, we create order out of chaos. The past is known and fixed, but the future is disordered and full of possibility. The empty page could become anything, but it merely chaos until you start defining, you start writing, and the possibilities close.

So we own this chaotic space (perhaps located in the dreaming), and it is infinite and ours. And we flow into it, picking out a route and deciding what we create as we go. The chaos becomes order, becomes shaped.

That’s how you purchase that real estate. You find the chaos and makes some kind of sense out of it.

I think I’m going to have a bath and tidy my room.

This didn’t make any sense, so I’ll leave (as I planned from the beginning) with more crazy hip hop. This song is awesome, and I only just found out that there was an available accompanied version (I’ve got it on the Daedelus album, but it has no rapping). Anyway, the videos great, it’s all good.

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Now playing: Bus Driver – [Fear of a Black Tangent #01] Yawning Zeitgeist Intro (freestyle) [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes