The myth of creativity

Do you ever have moments where you feel like a creative genius? I do, but the strange thing is that generally I don't feel that creative. Yet, there is an oxymoron in that adjective. Is the definition of creative not something pertaining to an original work? Something created? Wouldn't anyone who created anything, genius or not, be considered creative?

I don' like that use of the word though. I'd prefer to be creative in a more positive manner than in the other manner.

Some of you (no one?) might ask: Travis, what is provoking these deep, deep ruminations? Well, I'm glad you asked. Tonight at 10:00 p.m., work on The Mattresses album recommenced with work on a song titled Insomniacs Dream in Monochrome. Several strange things were associated with this recording session. First and foremost was simply the hour of recording. The session took place from 10-midnight and was quite relaxing (Parliament break around 11). Only the base track of Insomniacs was recorded, but that is not bad at all considering the second strange incident. The really strange thing was that the song is 6 minutes long... I thought the song was around 4 minutes, maybe 5 tops. But 6 minutes? I suppose it's good that it doesn't feel that long.

I think the album may be longer than I originally intended, but that's okay. As long as it flows nicely, I don't really care too much about the length. Although less than 50 minutes would be preferable (really not sure how likely that is). Anyway, it wasn't the recording that felt creative, that was more relaxing. It was my mixing and editing that made me feel artistically creative, and I must say feeling that way is pleasant.

Better than feeling any other way, I might say.

Album!

The pre-production of The Mattresses album is now complete. All we have to do now is execute it. Far out...

Parliament

It's strange... I used to despise Parliament cigarettes with their fancy, recessed paper filter. But now? Well, I don't particularly care for cigarettes too much (other than that word... "cigarettes") but Parliaments are definitely not bad at all.

This would bring up the question: Travis, do you smoke? The answer? No. I never ever light myself on fire and let someone suck on one end of me so that they burn me and get some smoke out the filter.

What are you talking about? Who knows, man... Not even I know what I'm trying to say sometimes. Maybe my point is that it is funny how things turn out sometimes. Sometimes it is even ironic... and that's when you have to just sit there and be sarcastic about it all.

That's also when you laugh and light a Parliament.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a strange feeling. I do not want to be in the past, knowing what I know of the occurrences between then and now, yet I feel sad that the moment is gone. Why is this? I don't know.

Maybe it's because I realize I'm that much closer to dying.

Is there anybody in there?

Good question. I never thought I would be sitting alone at my computer on a Monday night questioning my life, but here I am. What do I do? What have I done? Does any of it have any meaning? I've always felt that the meaning of life was to be remembered, if not by all, by just a few. If you can be remembered for a hundred years, you've done it.

But wait. There are what? 6 billion people in the world? Who can remember all of them? I can't even remember the names of all the people in my Biology class. Who will remember me when I'm dead and gone? Probably my kids, my friends, my wife... maybe grandchildren will vaguely recall what I looked like. What if I died tomorrow? Who would remember me then? Maybe about 100-200 people total, but I would fade from 90% of their minds within a month or two. One face in millions that just happened to disappear too soon.

Maybe the meaning of life is not to be remembered. If that were so, there would be trillions of biographies floating around the world. Maybe I'm just afraid of being forgotten. Who am I to be remembered? I'm just another musician trying to make some scratch on the world. There's no point. Fuck, I'm sure between Beethoven, Miles Davis, The Beatles, and Radiohead everything that needed to be said has been said.

Maybe the meaning of life is to be forgotten. Maybe if enough of us are forgotten the ones that should be remembered will be. Maybe I'm among the forgotten.