This weekend, during our downtime, in between the previewing of movies, the making of dinners and the designing of logos, Toby Joe and I wrote 1.5 songs on our guitars. One of them I find to be rather catchy and I’m excited to try and record it as soon as I figure out how.
Then yesterday, I was sitting on the toilet having a good, long pee, when something kind of funny occurred to me. Now, this idea that came to me while on the pot has occurred to me before, but this time it was particularly funny because I entered the future.
You see, it’s easy to fool yourself into thinking something YOU’VE created is perfectly original and grand and will be accepted by others. I mean, look at all the horrible art hanging from the prestigious walls of some Chelsea galleries. Look at all the cliché TV programs on prime time (::cough:: All Reality Television ::cough::). Look at all the overrated novelists (::cough:: Jennifer Weiner ::cough::) filling Amazon and the shelves of Barnes and Noble. Look at those who once called themselves Graphic Designers (::cough:: mihow ::cough::) You’re left wondering how they pulled off such a thing.
What I do know is this: last night while on the toilet, I laughed at the image of myself, 2 months from now, listening to the recording I have yet to make and realizing, in retrospect, “Holy crap, that song is bad.”
I have my most rewarding and shit-kicking thoughts on the toilet. (No pun intended, I assure you.)
Ultimately, is it really possible to know what’s good and what isn’t when the judge is also the creator? Every mother and father thinks their baby is the smartest and cutest, right? Does time and refinement enable us to set the record straight? Does one need to produce and put out sophomoric work in order to (know) change and grow?