My sister and I were the first duo that I knew. My parents rarely worked together well. I don’t blame them, I credit everyone in this tale because I am the only person who can tell it, but it “outs” them as something, too.

I have to take permission when I can. As a documentarian, I cannot turn the camera on myself and my family. But, as an artist, can I? Well, I would let the audio speak for itself, but I’m still nervous that the context won’t be right. The power of the blog post. I saw Miranda July for the first time tonight.

During the show, I was inspired by her freedom. I wanted to talk to her about what I’m going through as a plural. I can’t. So, I talked to my confidant, Melanie. She trusts me. She knows what I’m going through. She knows I had to hurt a few people to get here and the damage is done and that won’t change how I feel. She knows I had to be hurt by a few people and so here we are.

The nature of extremes involves good suffering and bad comfort. The guilt of culturally “mainstream” people and the resourcefulness of culturally “other” battles in the ongoing saga of the mind of the Kates.

This 3 hour topic that was initially stated by “Id like to talk to you about the power of mental stability and how it relates to my newfound pluralism. How best to present my ideas to you so you are most comfortable?” because a winding storytelling road with memory stones that act as footholds in otherwise a life full of shallow/ish media and roles of family and friends. My mimetic (functioned to keep me alive) family and my memetic (held together by our shared understanding of ideas) family allowed me to see between two worlds.

Doors are my enemies, I said to her as I opened the door. I then said they are mine, too. For many reasons. They are locked… alluring, show me two rooms at once, represent a choice to stay or go, to take a risk because one can’t close a door as if one didn’t see the contents and act with authenticity if the contents are too affecting to get past the doors of my eyes/smile. The nature of art being a window to the soul, but what about a door?

I’ve stayed up late to test if the upload worked or if a conversation was lost to time and technology (read: user error on recording device). The tension is killing because for a while I won’t know if the ideas are caught on “tape” or lost to the void of temporal personal improv art. Link to be provided in next blog post. After I sleep.

I call this method, Open Mike. It’s a new form, not to be confused with “Open Mics” that are temporal, live, in person, one way talking. This is an artful conversation. In this particular case it was aided by some notecards and a patient listener. With a stack of blanks, I began the story. Through following the threads of where each of the entities wanted to go without judgement, we followed each other, both personalities within and Melanie chiming.

Gratitude, real gratitude is awarded to my family and close friends who see themselves in this because they are there. The special gratitude is awarded for allowing me to express myself. They are a huge part of who I am and I wouldn’t give it up for the world because I didn’t know how many permissions I would have needed to get until after telling the story, I decided that it helped me just telling the story and publishing it before they could tell me what I did was wrong.

Art is about pushing limits and this recording pushes the limit of private and public information. My goal is to seek out real experiences by showing how it can be done. It’s not perfect. It’s an iterative process. Perfection cannot be efficient in this way. It’s iterative. The first time might be the best time, but it’s not about which is best, it’s about the whole story. Building on what has come before is our specialty. Invention is our specialty. Proof will be in the repeating of the experiment. Is what a scientist I know might say. But, we don’t specialize in tedium. We like “new,” even at the expense of being “bad.” (Thanks Miranda July for giving me some emotional energy to tackle this.)

Buy, or not, this book. The First Bad Man: A Novel: Miranda July: 9781439172568: Amazon.com: Books. A link is a doorway, you have the option to not click it. But, then you’ll never meet these people. How regret, the fear of regret plays with our sense of time and accomplishment before anything gets started. Get started today in some way. Are you in the beginning, middle, or end phase? Have you been nurtured? Or are you waiting to get sparked? Inspiration is everywhere and no where. It’s a drug you manufacture by yourself and for yourself and hope the batch is ripe (what is the term, druggies?). The only thing close to your state of mind is an altered state of mind.

An altered state of mind can show a lie, but we know it’s a lie and further more, we know how the drug works so that we can see the cause and effect on the brain, but then how to see the cause and effect on reality?

Art can potentially “induce” an altered state of mind. Inspiration is a drug because it plays with our emotions until it gives energy to certain ideas that help reframe/distort reality.

What happens when there is no art? What if there’s just a comfortable listener and a comfortable speaker and they share a moment and record it? Is that the baseline state of mind?

Is the model, the inner ancient secrets of personality and the cloud of references that envelope the entity worth exploring with new context/words/paradigm of how we move in the mental space of “choosing” what to like? Choosing what to “believe”? Choosing our exposure when all that’s left is deciding to click on a link, meet a new person? Put our shopping lists to the test and find our deep mirror? Someone we can feel safe with and allow them to see all of our emotions, some ugly some pretty? All sliding pass the uncanny valley of “simulation” which is between reality and lie. We try. We really do. It’s hard inventing new words for a new landscape where trust is a big factor in our experience of art.