It starts here and loses momentum

Dear diary,

Why do we want images? Who knows what to do with images? I write blog posts, & all I care about is the text; but our superego says that, for a thing to exist, it must obscure itself with an appearance.

Obligatory image

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I titled this one "Walk in Closet" cuz that's the phrase that is printed in the top left corner of the ad at the left. This image is two images in one. I call it mine, and I acted on my right to title my own artwork, even tho almost none of what you see was made by me. Both square photos were just found in my junk mail. I didn't manipulate either of the images at all, except placing them side-by-side against a black background. And I also straightened them (for they were crooked originally), using a picture-editing program on my computer; that's why, if you look real close, you can see, near the right edge of both pics, an artificially rigid vertical "line" — tho it's not really a line but more like a seam: a misjoining of the... I don't know how to describe it. What drove me to place these scenes in proximity is that I noted in each a certain plainness of palette, or slim range of colors: almost an unbearable blandness; very clean, very tame. (Before settling on this arrangement, I tried cutting out and taping strange objects over the top of either scene, and I also tried adding fragments from other ads so that they span both images; but nothing attracted me as much as letting the pics repose beside each other, without reason beyond the symmetry of their serenity.) And that woman seems so pleased to be putting on her shoe.

So I don't understand art. I'm not sure if any museum would let me display this two-piece collage upon its wall. I don't know if any professional critic would praise my efforts, or find genius in my idea.

Andy Warhol famously painted a series of soup cans, which annoyed certain viewers while amusing others. What if all the U.S. politicians were to attend an exhibit featuring the images of this here blog — I mean, not just today's mundanity but all the previous entries' as well (it might be titled "Artwork from the Public-Private Diary of the Late Bryan Ray"). What do you think they would say, the spectators of my retrospective? How would they react?

Most of them would remark "I don't like this guy's work." — That's only a guess; and I'm not attempting to be self-deprecatory or falsely modest just to lure you to pity my unloved oeuvre — after all, I'm genuinely conceited: I think I'm brilliant; but my perspective differs from almost everyone I know — rarely have I found anyone whose "cup of tea" is spiked precisely like mine — therefore I assume that the public'll pan it. The only wild card is if some down-on-her-luck taste-maker decides to inflame her reputation by touting my worth: THEN folks might take to me; for most people do what they're told.

Yes, but even if I'm "discovered" by some wise critic who builds her house upon the firmest foundation, I'll be doomed to suffer the fate of all trailblazers, as the world will perceive my value way too late.

Go, and tell this people: "Hear ye indeed, but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive not." Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed. (Isaiah 6:9-10)

Maybe I should write a novel. I've been thinking about writing a novel or a play, recently. I mean a "conventional" work, not an anti this or pseudo that or anything like the dreck I've dreamt hereto. For I'm growing old now, and I need to start acting boring.

My real reason for thinking along these lines is that I'm desperate for fame. I'd like money, too. And I'm not joking or being ironic: I'd really love to be known and to stop having to worry about FIE-nance. All my life, whenever I see anything that is worth dying for, such as a pair of pants, or a suit coat, or a sculpture, or Manhattan, or a cordless impact driver, I never let myself purchase it: I just waive it off & continue my life without it, as best I can. That's worked fine until now, but I'm in my mid 40s & thus soon I can expect to be blessed with diseases, which require expensive surgery & medicines, doctor visits, replacement hips, and round-the-clock nursing. These rendezvous cannot be postponed indefinitely. You can't just ascend into heaven without first being crucified.

I'd also like eventually to be able to buy gifts for all my neighbors. Cuz we recently moved to a really nice neighborhood, and the best way to keep it friendly is to maintain harmonious relations with everyone involved. But the problem is discovering each individual's velleities, their inmost wishes — in addition to the problem of being able to pay for all the stuff.

So if I learn that my neighbor across the street has always desired a season pass for the New York Mets baseball team, I'd like to order that for him. Put the tickets in an envelope and write on its front: "To Nick, from your neighbor Bryan across the street." (Of course, that's assuming my neighbor's name is Nick — I've only met him once, at Halloween when he brought his daughter and her friend to our doorstep; but, since that day, I've forgotten his Christian name.)

Or if any of these retired women who are married to these other neighbors of ours have always wanted to own, say, a Show Horse, I'd like to be able to offer each wife her own Show Horse. — But the problem with this would be that then they'd have to feed them. You've heard that phrase "The gift that keeps on giving": well if you give someone an animal as a gift, it's almost the opposite: it's a gift that never stops taking from you, whether it's supplies, food, time...

Let's say that Show Horses prefer their trough to be filled with fresh water, every single day. And they like to eat oats. Thus, by giving all my neighbors free Show Horses, I've actually caused them to have to fork out the cash to purchase horse-troughs and stalls and feedbags, in addition to an equestrian-grade water-filtration system; and daily they will need to get up at dawn and shovel their Show Horse's excrement out of the garage, so that they don't accidentally drive over it when they leave for bowling practice in an hour.

So instead of being good friends and a tight community, we all just keep to ourselves. It's better that way. Any time you try to do a favor for someone, you wind up botching the job, and the end result is that they're worse off than they would've been if you'd just stayed away.

That's why people build fences. Fences are a way of saying (nonverbally) that you're happy to possess this land, and you love your community, but your hope is that the community keeps away.

I guess the one safe gift is music. If you can find tickets to a concert in a foreign country, that'll win over practically anybody. Especially Country and Western music, or Rock music. I know a guy who took a week off from his job so that both he and his wife could travel to a faraway land and watch a series of bands perform. It was like the Woodstock Music Festival from 1969, except with different songs and different singers; and also a different place and time.