Dropping the Tre'

300 posts. Right here, right now. Who thought I'd speak my mind so much?

When I started blogging, I felt it was a way to keep my writing chops fresh. I had all sorts of ideas about things I could write about, and at the time, I had the time.

I started blogging in 2005... the same year I met Sheryl. Sheryl likes to credit her Gramps for our meeting. Ironically, Sheryl's grandfather died five years ago today. So milestone blog #300 seems to make sense. As such, I dedicate this one to yet someone else I would have really enjoyed meeting - Sheryl's grandfather.

Before I realized that this was Nr. Drei Hundert, I intended to blog about the HILARIOUS "Fluxus with Tools" event I witnessed yesterday.

A fluxus originator, Alison Knowles, performed with her daughter, Hannah Higgins, who is an art scholar.

Fluxus, as I have mentioned, I find HILARIOUS. I sat through this show grinning like a Cheshire cat, as Alison and Hannah gave us a taste of Fluxus (and salad, and a spaghetti sandwich...). I will never see a show like this again, and I'm so glad I went.

When I got home, I excitedly tried to explain it to Sheryl, laughing throughout... but I was the only one laughing. Sure enough, Fluxus gets lost in translation. Which is exactly what I feel fluxus is about - the viewer's experience.

Robert Fripp in King Crimson believes this - that a concert is about the now - the observer's experience. And every person, every observer, will have a different experience.

Frank Zappa felt similarly, I believe - that music is in the ear of the beholder. Music observed is a singular event.

In some ways, I find that amazing, and mind-blowing that every event I experience is my experience only.

But in some ways, I find that so sad. So lonely.

Millions of people can love the new Lady Gaga song, but why does each person love it? What are they hearing? Surely, they are not hearing the tortured cat that I hear. And although I may (or may not) enjoy an occasional tortured cat, I do not suspect I would enjoy listening to it.

Fluxus helps remind me of my individuality, whether I like it or not. Fluxus also makes me yearn for the ideology of what I envision as the true artist. The burned out artist. The person that Neil Young sings about in "After the Goldrush" - "I was lying in a burned out basement, with the full moon in my eyes..."

And yet, in a lot of ways, I see Fluxus as a bunch of drunks sitting around throwing out ideas for the next infomercial - "Dude, what if we came up with a vegetable cutter that you slapped... haha! yea, we could call it the slap chop! Haha! Get it? Get it?? Whoo-hoo! Pass the Nighttrain man, don't bogart it!"

Every moment, every sight. Every sound, every touch. It's yours. Take ownership of it. No one can take it away from you.

The scholars and life coaches tell us to live our own lives.

Dude, you can't help it!