Thursday, March 9, 2006
Monkey See Monkey Do
I saw that Hit the Road made one of these. So, of course, I had to do one, too. Now I kinda feel stupid. Not a self-deprecating way, but in a stupid-dumb-happy way. Like the time I pegged my pants for the first time in 1986 and all the other kids congratulated me. As if I was some prodigy of fashion. Oh the irony! Oh the stupidity of it all! To have wasted a single iota of concern over the roll of the pantleg! I am so glad 1986 was 20 years ago. It seems as soon as I debunk one form of stupidy, another one rolls out of the abdomen of the dead bird.
Thoughts on Stupid.
I hardly ever use the word "stupid." I reached this point of frustration that the only word that comes out of my head is "stupid." When I was a kid, it was on the Verboten Verb list at home. In fact, to this day the KB isn't allowed to say it. (along with "butt," "fart," "heck" and "darn") I am finding the dictionary.com definition not at all helpful. Stupid has a denseness and a naive desire to please the wrong people. Like the dumb punks at my Junior High. It drools. It wants too hard to be cool. But it doesn't know that cool isn't how you roll up your pants. It hasn't figured out that cool comes from finding yourself and your place in the universe and being honest and true. I find Flickr (and its toys) frustrating when it tries to exploit that idiotic human tendency to try and impress the herd. Do they do it on purpose? Or do they really buy into it? There is an option on flickr toys where you can see if any of your pics have been chosen for the "explore flickr page." I checked. Nothing. For a full minute I felt like a loser. As if I had been caught wearing corduroy in 1986. I love corduroy, but I didn't wear it at all during the 80's because it was out of fashion. Can you believe it? A whole ten years of my life, deprived of corduroy? What a waste.
The thing that is particularly painful about stupidity, is that somehow its okay for other people to care about stupid stuff (I don't presume to get into their heads, I don't know what their motives are, they might have perfectly good reasons for pegging their pants) but its not okay when I find those tendencies in my own heart. The horror!
I resolve to continue to take pictures of myself in bathrooms, to wear corduroy, to teach art to little kids, to draw pictures of submarines and gauges, to obsess over bald men's perfect shiny pates, to hold my head high at APE, to love Jesus, to correspond with the geeks I find on the internet, to listen to goofy canadian folk music, to shoot May Avenue as long as I damn well please.