Why Do I Write?

Dear Reader,

How do you evoke truth when every basis of knowledge you contemplate gets stripped before your eyes? What then is present in the conscience mind? How do you protect every ounce of your pride while eloquently communicating all of your beliefs and dreams? What if your diction directly corresponds to your survival, but your tongue has failed you? How then do you say what you mean?

You Scream.

The artist is first and foremost responsible only to evolution. To me, no other ideology holds any merit. I believe in art. I believe in the mysticism of philosophy. I believe in existing to create.
Have you ever felt privy to what no one knows? Like precognition has shown its light on you and you now understand contention. I have come to realize that I dream of contention. When I leave this world I would like to go to a sub-conscience place where nothing happens. Literally. Nothing. A thoughtless infinity. No opinions, no thinking, no pressure. If heaven were a Disney ride, I’d like think we would be sitting in complete silence. Luckily, waking life isn’t that way so I believe I should spend every waking minute creating, making noise, thinking and challenging.

Do I create art or am I utilitarian? I believe that art defines time and therefore art knows no time.

Communication has and will always be the primitive form of media. We have reached an era where media is distributed at unwanted rates. Suddenly true artists don’t want to be heard; they are easily persuaded, they only want to get paid. And they should be compensated, for their creative contribution to society, for their constructive influence on our youth and for letting us latch on to their memories.

I write to emotionally communicate in a time of great uncertainty. I have watched my parents’ generation destroy everything they fought to obtain. Like the Berlin Wall conventions have been broken; the rules by which we were told to abide have failed and evolution has become our burden. It is our time and our world. Coming from a western perspective, the catastrophic daily media transcends regions and has begun to chronically affect the human species way of life. Human interaction I fear will be near intangible for my grandchildren. A generation where facts and fake news can both can be obtained by after only a few clicks. We choose to settle for unaccredited first hit possibly plausible tidbits.

I did not ask to be given a creative voice, but it has become my responsibility. Like every creative voice before me I am naïve. I am idealistic. I am terrified. But my voice will be heard. Like bank executives, lawyers and elected officials figuring out more effective global leadership; I hope to bring the same to philosophical thought. Like overturned laws I hope to redefine all the preconceived ideas presented to me. My words will feel out of time at first and will by pass your eardrums and attach to your mind. Please, let it wander.