50: Zen in the art of writing: essays on Creativity

So it seems I have lied and did not finish Divisadero! I don’t know if I ever will, I don’t have the huge desire to pick the book up and read it, to be honest even though i’m maybe 40 pages in, I wasn’t really paying attention and I don’t really know what’s happening in the story…

but I did finish this today, (friday) so this post comes to you from the past, I have definitely grown fond of the idea of posting on Sundays, what a beautiful day, Sun Day.

I picked this up by chance, by Ray Bradbury.

It’s actually surprisingly funny though the title reads like it’s some kind of instructional manual, this is the first time in a while i’ve gotten a book from the library that has the old musky smell, the smell that i’ve often encountered when i did scientific research, pulling papers from the 60s because no one else does those experiments anymore!

Anyways, it’s a good read whether you are interesting in writing or not, some interesting points of life, on creativity and the way of seeing things.

The title of the first essay is: “How to Climb the Tree of life, throw rocks at yourself, and get down again without breaking your bones or your spirit: A preface with a title not much longer than the book.”

I like stuff like that, I don’t know why.

If i learnt nothing in this book, I can tell you that Mr. Bradbury is a very passionate man, or at least if he isn’t, he is very good at writing about passion. I seem to doubt everything these days, what’s up with that.

Anyways, there’s a lot of talk about how without passion there’s nothing, and there’s no creativity, there’s no work, there’s nothing.

So I started reading this last night (it’s very short) and i’m one page in and i’m met with this:

Yell. Jump. Play. Out-run those sons-of-bitches. They’ll never live the way you live. Go Do it.

Ah, not giving in to peer pressure, something that we have faced at one point or other. I’d like to think that, for the most part, i’ve never given into peer pressure, but i’ve also never been pressured very severely, except for the alcohol, i get peer pressured every single time, but beside that, no one has ever made me do anything really, also because i look scary so people try to avoid me at all costs.

So there’s all this business about being yourself and what it means, I’ve actually thought about this last night because I came across this girl, this very adorable girl born in the 90s no less, who’s full of life and vigor that I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be nice to die and be reborn as her?

There’s a lot of thinking on my part on that, what’s me, who am i, bull shit thoughts at the beginning of my 20s.

i’ve come up with no answer other than i must keep doing what i love, because without it i’m just a shell of a human being, trudging through life, quoting 30 rock lines to hide the fact that i’m devoid of humor.

and that’s it!

that’s my thoughts on this book.

oh a few quotes for the roads ahead of course:

Do not, for money, turn away from all the stuff you have collected in a life time. Do not for vanity of intellectual publications turn away from what you are – the material within which makes you individual, and therefore indispensable to others. (page 42)

nts: you should all know how materialistic i am, it’s often regarded as a bad trait, and yeah it is when it’s in its extremes, but it can also be wonderful. So for me to think money is not important, says a lot.

I need that approval. We all need someone higher, wiser, older to tell us we’re not crazy after all, that we’re doing is all right. All right, well, fine. (page unknown, didn’t write it down..)

nts: i’ve had random approval from random people on the internet, and this brightens my day like no other. I recently received a direct message on twitter from someone famous and admirable saying my blog is awesome (well he didn’t find it and tell me it’s awesome, it happened because i mentioned him in a tweet and he happened to read it, but none the less still that made my night)

There’s every kind of Irish story among my work because after living in Dublin for six months I saw that dreadful beast Reality. You can run into it head-on, which is a dire business, or you can skirt around it, dance for it, make up a song. Write you a tale, prolong the gab, fill up the flask. Each partakes of Irish cliche, but each in the foul weather and the foundering politics, is true. – page 61

the beast that is reality huh…