Falling Off the Philosophical Wagon

I’ve been playing Piano Man by Billy Joel all day as I painted on my porch. The view is astounding and I ending up painting for hours only to find I was painting to the beat of the song. I didn’t realize it at first until I noticed I was waiting between chords to add some fluff strokes to the clouds. I was waiting for the next beat to make the next stroke. Maybe that is only funny to me for it meant I was putting structure to my creative process.

And here come those old philosophical tropes again. Bringing back the late-night conversations about freedom, free-spirits, no restraints, the evil of order, and worst of all, conformity.

Yes, I have fallen off the philosophy wagon this evening. I promise not to bring up Jean-Paul Sartre or existentialism. I would need a few more tokes before I could do that and it would have to be better stuff than what I in my MOP box. The one you gave me a lifetime ago — my mother-of-pearl stash box.

But back to painting on cue, in time to the music. Does all that shock you? That I would funnel all my unbound creative streak into some form of order? Like my painting of “Creativity in a Bottle” that I could never finish. Painting to a beat shocked the hell out of me.

Wait, Mikey. Maybe I need to stop and continue this tomorrow. I just took a couple more hits and am beginning to think this stuff is better than I thought. We both know how easy I fly and how quickly I find my words have turned to free form with no attachment to one another or to any semblance to meaning.

Jean-Paul Sartre. I love the way it rolls off my tongue.