Forum: Int_rn_t

Went to some places. Came back. Not sure where is ‘here’ and ‘now,’ as I am in a post-Soviet place, that doesn’t like to talk too much about too many things in concrete terms. Wandering here since middle of April, running into people, discovering this curious and yet so-very-obvious notion that nothing is for sure and everything could change any moment is, well, bizarre. And in a way, that strangeness is what has inspired me to change it up with the things in the writing, try new adventurous and even experimental things, and get out of, well, the proverbial box. Even when you profess to be someone who loves to get out of boxes, sometimes a new place can spur you into a different kind of meander… which is new. And new… New and different. Is the thing we love most, around here.

TETHERS. Talked recently with MB in Phnom Penh, about being ‘untethered’ or ‘tethered,’ and it reminded me of an early conversation about that, back in the day. Knowing what you are tied up with, by choice or circumstance, is a big deal in many ways. I mean the knowing part. I mean… there’s a lot to talk about, here. I am learning, too, that the instagram-happy world (and I confess, I do have two accounts), is a place that doesn’t really know what this kind of ‘knowing’ is, I feel. Substance gets substituted for ‘interestingness,’ even if that is a thousand percent manufactured. So where does that leave us? On the quest to be real. Be sincere. Be… true.

‘PROFESSIONALISM.’ I gave a giant lecture, 55 minutes, roughly, so, seminar-length?, which was impromptu, yesterday afternoon at a cafe called Nice Place. Which is closing next week. Sad: I like this space. But yesterday I re-ran into someone I had been trying to meet up with for three weeks. My seminar to him was about ‘professionalism.’ This happened for lots of reasons, but, I think, mostly, because of that very moment, that instance, that sudden need to say a thing even if the words weren’t ready in their order yet (improvisation: that’s my thing, though, right?)… this feeling, this need to express the thing that had to be expressed. If someone is interested in things to make, I am interested in making with that person. But the second it becomes clear that this interestedness is not sincere, that is when I press a button in my head that is very similar, I think, to ‘delete.’ I have been told this is not a good way to go about things. I know that there are more mature ways to deal with the amorphousness of the Internet-era and things-not-certain. But yeah. Working it out. Starting to enjoy the new and different, again, and even let myself be led down that other path, of being introduced to the grotesque and uncomfortable, too. Hmmm. This is. Hard to write down, in a way that makes sense. But maybe the post postmodern style that I am waking up to here in Latvia is telling me something. Maybe it doesn’t make sense because there is no such thing as ‘sense.’ (People’s parents still remembering getting sent to Siberia, et al. Hoarding porcelain cups and saucers, and everything else, because… ‘It could happen again…’). What ‘makes sense’ in a world recovering from these memories?… In many ways, it reminds me of Phnom Penh…

These are the ideas, vague and training themselves to be okay with that, here in Riga, this week. I’ll be putting them together in more solid terms, I think?, in the coming days, and report back then. I hope it works into something cohesive and complete in itself, as an undefined and uncertain thing: is this an oxymoron? I’m curious what you would say, Leave a comment? Let’s converse…

Thanks for reading.

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