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The 100 Day Project

Page history last edited by Jakey Toor 10 years, 4 months ago

 

 

* The 100 Day Project was created in response to the predicament many artists often find themselves in: trying to balance their artistic life with their jobs, school, and, in my case, teaching. Written over the course of 100 days at one sentence per day, this project attempts to prove that it is possible to create art even if there is no time, even if you have to resort to writing one sentence per day.

  

The 100 Day Project

 

I am about to burst. Or implode.....can't really tell. She was fascinated by the abomination, drawn like a moth to the light. He was one of the fortunate ones, having gone right up to the edge of the cliff. Peer over. Step Back. Curiosity quenched. Does her art reveal her or conceal her? Hmmmmm….The problem is that we want to make sense of everything even if it doesn’t make any sense.

  

I'm on to you baby. I'll see right through ya, Mr. Dooya. What if I have to be to know the nitty gritty of the touchy feely. I just realized that I am more scared of succeeding than failing. The less you talk, the more people listen to you when you do talk. Sharp. Precise. Intentional. But where is the heart feeling? You're walking on thin ice my friend. Just because I didn't say anything doesn't mean I didn't notice. Got it? "Following my heart is a luxury I can't afford" she said. Step off the horse Jakey, and slowly back away.

  

Alright Kindergarteners, I need your eyes on me in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and 0. Samuel go to the time-out chair. You know the rules.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

Samuel go to the time-out chair.

This isn't working.

 

Oh C'mon, just criss-cross apple sauce you guys! What if "criss cross applesauce" just doesn't work? If it’s a self fulfilling prophecy then where is the prophet? And who exactly put this system into place? This subtle and implicit way of filtering out those who don't conform to the norm? An exhausted topic right? Especially up on the mic or in the realm of perfromance art where artists proudly display their rebelion and challenge the very authority that gives them the opportunity to put thier work up on the stage. Until all voices have a chance to be heard even those that speak softly or don’t like sitting criss-cross apple sauce, we need to keep talking. I think.

 

It all made so much sense......... but I.....just...... couldn't..... quite...believe it. We have to keep our eye on this one, she is a bit of a wild card. If you bring the rebellious one into the group they are much less likely to rebel against you. Maybe I don't want to mix my worlds. Maybe I like them just the way they are. The beauty of being anonymous is that you can reinvent yourself over and over and over again. There IS a term for it: golden handcuffs: too bad to stay, too good to go. Gestation and then bringing forth. Cerca Trova. Even when I am sitting still in class, for hours on end, I am dancing. It's like a long moment of stillness between movements.

 

At what point does the past end and the future begin? I want to catch that piece of a moment and just be deeply there.

It's hard work to notice.

Controlled spilling.

Process Translucent.

He was painfully aware of his shortcomings. He didn't need them pointed out. I think in bits and pieces. SO? Creativity suppressed is detrimental. To both the suppressor and the suppress-ee. Especially if they are one in the same person. Does morality have any place in art? "What can you do?" she said. "You either shut yourself off to it completely or you let it eat you alive." Shifting eyes in weight-room mirrors. - Stolen moments in Eucalyptus groves......It's the undercurrent of people and things that interest me.

 

Line. Crossing it. Line. Crossing it. Line. Crossing it. I am finding small pieces of myself in the most surprising places! I had all of a sudden, for some reason, become sharply attune to every aspect of her perfectly ambiguous demeanor.. Life. Is. Gorgeous. I don’t think anything is ever wasted. It always comes back-round in another way.

He was a sensitive observer in a harsh world.

 

 

Hi. Nice to meet you. Let me tell you exactly what you want to hear without making it sound like I am trying to tell you exactly what you want to hear because I have become really good at that... I just can't play this game. Actually I can, but I don’t want to. It's not a paid position but it will be GREAT for your resume. Even though my paper cutter does not cut straight, and hasn't for a while now, I still expect it to for some reason... Strange.

  

You know your pride and semi-alufness are just your insecurities flipped inside out don't you Jakey? (Bark) Today I saw a beetle cross the road. Can insects sense when they are about to die?  I wonder. If there's nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire. Spontaneous combustion. Oh.........just........pile it on! Sigh. Never Satisfied. Never Satisfied. Never Satisfied.

  

I still think of you. Even though it’s been years and years and I feel silly and like I shouldn’t admit that, I do. I wonder how you are and where you are and why things happened the way they did. And I am embarrassed becasue you were a cowardly man. Enough. Enough.

  

It's a terrible thing not feeling like this is your real life. Bare feet on floor. Turn. Jump. Swing. Always getting what you want can be just as much of a curse as it is a blessing. Lesson learned. Obvious I know. Doesn't hurt to state the obvious though.

  

Today I poured myself onto paper. Swirled, clouded, muddy letters, trying to make sense where there wasn't any. I am in every part or place. Inextricably intertwined. Embryonic. Cultural Chameleon. Misguided and naïve imperfection at its best!

  

 

© Jakey Toor

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