...at my
picture-taking rant. She cares enough enough about me that she broke out her points carefully, even while calling me, in no order: vain, spoiled, solipsistic, abrasive, condescending, artistically self-righteous & disingenuous.
Good Lord! Quite the lecture for those who don’t sort our vacation snaps...according to ‘composition’ and ‘moment’. Jeezus, Marrus. Can’t folks have a hobby without it having to meet your strange and comparatively high artistic standards of internet self-publishing? Or worse...making clear that participating in activities you don't endorse removes your reader from your friendly consideration; no longer a person you value and validate.
...some invasions of...privacy are one of the not-perks [of being an artist]. Suck it up and be decent to people who...want an image of you to remind them of some good emotion you’ve inspired in them…likely before you’ve opened your mouth with a post like this. Or wait until you’re rich enough to retire without ‘em and THEN write something like this. Then you’re Garbo. This post makes you Chevy Chase. And no one can stand him, anymore....
...They just want a goddamned picture, Marrus. Not a piece of your immortal soul.My rant was intended to blow off steam, and to change some behaviour. Jay told me that the language to do one and the language to do the other are not the same. I hadn’t considered that. It’s good to have him around to temper me.
Granted, it wasn’t the best of my writing. Yes, I might have been a sawed-off shotgun and gotten some well-meaning people’s panties undeservedly in a twist. Absolutely, the topics of privacy, artistic integrity, hobbyists, my experience with rude, unthinking fuckers – all got mashed up in the fury of my typing. Perhaps I should have been more careful.
Usually I am. Usually, I spend several days crafting the pieces I put online. I feel that it’s sacred, this ability we have to fling our words out into space and have them fall on a million ears. I try to use my blog to educate, entertain, inspire, catalyze. I believe my rant incorporated the first & last of those.
Someone liking the way I look doesn’t mitigate the intrusion of a camera. Looks are an accident of DNA. And while people can do whatever they want as hobby: take pictures, sculpt, run hashes or marathons, owning a phone with a bunch of widgets doesn’t give them the right to do whatever they want with it. Texting in movie theatres makes me just as crazy as discovering surprise burger shots of myself online. Indiscriminate picture-taking-and-posting shows a lack of consideration that the moment should continue on, but you’ve stapled THAT moment down, forever.
How many of you have discovered unfortunate shots of yourselves? Has your job or relationship been compromised because of them? Can we untag or ask to take down? Sure. Are we pissing in the ocean? Absolutely. Is it our right to scream our heads off once in a while? Damn straight.
In the last few years, I’ve met so many people. I can’t keep track of everybody. Strangers come up wanting to hug me (don’t get me started on THAT. Hate it). People launch into conversations about something I wrote 8 years ago & I have no idea who they are. I’ve realized I can’t make everybody happy, and I can’t be nice all the time. I try, really hard, and usually I do a pretty good job, but I’m human, I get aggravated, and sometimes I go off.
I’m trying to do a lot of things here. I
lost the way of making a living that was the reason I moved to New Orleans 6-ish years ago. I’m gonna be on the road for 10 weeks starting the end of April at a bunch of Faires. I don't yet have any distribution for my book other than my own sweat, and the kind things you guys say about it. I have NO buffer between me and all these well-meaning, and sometimes not-so-well-meaning people who think I owe them something. I’m VERY grateful they like my work, I’m MORE grateful when they buy it, but that doesn’t mean that I owe anyone a hug, a fuck, a photo, dinner or anything other than what we’ve already exchanged. The stranger who approaches me has hurt, verbally attacked, or grabbed me just as easily as said, “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you – I really like your stuff.”
There are no buffers other than the ones I make in these various forums, and my intention was to scare off the lunatics, or make even well-meaning folks think twice before aiming a camera at a stranger.