So, everyone, this week I had a cool conversation via Gmail chat. It was between a close friend of mine (Shawn) and me. you should look at shawn's blog. after you read this.
we got into some potentially DEEP stuff. It was all like, intellectual (sort of) well - you read it:
Me: are you able to do coffee this week, man? Shawn: yeah... when do you want to do it? Me: um. I'm pretty wide open this week. what about like, tomorrow, like sometime? like lunch? I could like, buy you lunch or something. Shawn: no way... you bought us dinner... we're even - tomorrow works for me Me: you can pay if you want. Shawn: no way... I don't have a $400 surplus just kidding it'll be a surprise Me: yah. i'm not laughing. Shawn: yes you are Me: eff you man. Shawn: your not making a good case for lunch. i wish I hadn't misspelled "your" Me: i don't even think i can respect you. Shawn: ... harsh Me: yah, well. Shawn: :( Me: (I'm feeling guilty, dammit!) Shawn: i'm gonna take you off my bff list that's what those emoticon tears mean Me: ah, eff that man! I wanna stay on the list! crap. my inner self is berating my outer self for such bumbling conversational skills. Shawn: but you totally redeemed with the endearing use of the word "bumbling" Me: brilliant...so, 11:30? 11:45? Shawn: sure... do you want me to meet you or do you want to meet me? Me: do you wanna do east side marios here at chinook? I love that place. Shawn: yeah, that place rocks! Me: OR!!! Shawn: or? Me: the pancake house up off crowchilde!!! crowchilde? Shawn: no "e" Me: yah... i figured. the proper spelling is like on every roadsign in the city. i sometimes type wrong. Shawn: that's okay... you use words like "bumbling" which covers a multitude of spelling sins Me: great. I actually think i'd rather do E S M. but I'm open. Shawn: I think I'm gonna have to agree... if for no other reason than Sara and I have promised F&J that our first time would be with them. Me: aaah. we had our first time with F&J this sunday. Shawn: nice Me: you're an honourable fellow. Shawn: well, I am a pastor you know Me: hey, did you ever read that "in the hall of stone" poem i wrote a while back? Shawn: yeah I did. it was great. Me: cool. i just wanted to make sure I'd exposed myself to you. (dirty!!) Shawn: that time was all you Me: yah, yah, i'm taking all the blame. Me: sometimes i write stuff and don't think of how it could be dirty. i mean, I totally expose myself when I write poetry. Poetic expression is an exercise in vulnerability, right? (of course, the 'dirty!!!' didn't help at all.) Shawn: absolutely, as is all artistic expression, but I feel like poetry is a little more naked, because you don't have plot, or colour, or melody to hide behind
it's just pure linguistic emotion Me: exactly. the weird thing is, with In the Hall of Stone, I totally didn't think I was writing a self expressing poem. but the more that i think about it, the more I realize it totally is. people can totally see things about me that I didn't realize they could... it's kind of like realizing that someone's been watching you shower. Shawn: hot. i mean i know what you mean - although I felt the self expressing vibes right away. well... actually, because I had just watched Lord of the Rings before reading it, I though of dwarves first... but THEN I felt the self expressing vibes. It's interesting how sometimes we are the last ones to become aware of what we're expressing in our art Me: yah, man. it's interesting - someone else who read the poem mentioned LOTR as well. one of the absolute cool things about art is that it's a window into who i am. i look through my own window into areas of my life that, often, i can't consciously see. Shawn: totally Shawn: in a lot of ways, art allows us to transcend the neurological limitations of our existence... it's seems like one of the only ways that we can truly step out of ourselves and see what we normally can't Me: exactly! which is why i'm so fascinated with the art that I've produced. So much of it is dark and a little disturbing. kind of makes me think i might be a freak. Shawn: i understand... you look at and think "where the hell does this stuff come from?" Me: completely. I totally had a huge conversation like this with Dorsey last evening. Shawn: by the way... sorry that we couldn't come to the Dogma party last night... Sara had a class and I was a guest speaker at it. We didn't get the message until we got home - [all that was a] side note...carry one ... what? carry ON... Me: i talked about how there's these deep seated 'forces' inside of me that shift and grind against one another - sort of like tectonic plates.
every once in a while, they jut through the surface of my conscious. then i'm like 'what the hell is that thing jutting into my conscious? why is it here?' it's messed sometimes. i really wish i could look at myself - the really real me, beneath my conscious level of operating. Shawn: oh... we have much to talk about... Neuropath. Eff, man. Me: i can imagine... hey i should go. Randy just home. what time are we going to meet? Shawn: how 'bout I meet you at your place at noon Me: sounds awesome. ps. would you mind if I posted this conversation on my blog? Shawn: go for it... just make me look better than I am Me: i'll do my best, but it's like trying to improve on some exquisite piece of art... like michaelangelo's 'David'. Shawn: that's not too hard to do... just give it a bigger dong or put clothes on him... either way Me: good chatting. as always. my life is full of fantastic people. Shawn: agreed. you're life is full of fantastic people, as is mine Me: everything's so slack... everything but you... Shawn: well said, my friend... well said Me: a little GP never hurt anyone. Shawn: never Me: adios, man. Shawn: bye