he's lost the thread

Though I’m not always posting, I’m always thinking about blogging. It’s why I never get anything done, I’m sure. I have a lot of blogs, I have had a lot of blogs, but I’m doing stuff with just a few blogs at the moment. It was said, Content Is King, back in the early days of blogging. My favourites today, however, are all about structure. They’re all about restraining themselves to photos matched with songs, lists of five, rules for unborn children.

I love what we’ve done with the form. But, then, I just love form. Which is why I struggle so much with this particular blog, set up to give me a place to think out loud.

Even my daydreams want structure.

and the big fool said to push on

Here is a list of jobs I don’t want:

+ architect
+ fashion designer
+ glass blower
+ choreographer

Yet, these artists are exactly the type I want to be. They don’t physically make the final product. They do the conceptual work. They do the research, they make the sketches, take the measurements, pick the colours. I started thinking of myself as a concept artist when I discovered Ed Ruscha and his Twentysix Gasoline Stations and Some Los Angeles Apartments. I had that awesome moment of, Hey, that’s my idea.

Jeff Koons has his art fabricated in factories, and Valentino’s dresses are sewn by women in Italy. Maya Lin didn’t build the Vietman Veterans Memorial, and Twyla Tharp doesn’t dance her dances.

I have notebooks full of ideas, notes, references, sketches, outlines, snippets of conversation and kickass first lines. That’s what satisfies me about making a story. I like this part of it so much more than the writing. Is there a factory somewhere that will fabricate my novels for me? I just want to design.

In reverse order of my notebook, newest to oldest:

1. I’m not sure if I’m crazy (like LJ is the place to have that refuted), but I’m sure Panic have a The Crane Wife in them.

2. High Art AU: Jon is the once-famous photographer, Tom is his hard-partying, muse/boyfriend, until he meets-cute the boys upstairs: Spencer, the photo editor, and his too-sweet, longtime boyfriend, Brendon. Spencer’s editor-in-chief, Ryan, wants Jon in the magazine and sends them on assignment together.

3. I’m probably gonna end up writing this five-year-hiatus-side-project thing I keep thinking about, so I’ll just say this: When Jon goes home after the third album, he takes Spencer with him.

4. Here are a few scenes from the life of Sophie Rose Cohen that I’m sad we’ll never get to see: spending the weekend with Ryan and Taylor at their house (where they have dogs!), learning how to surf the waves and schmear a bagel, holding her newborn niece or nephew who will probably end up with the name Crêpe Cohen.

5. I think, also, that Ryan is the first to show her Paris, on a trip to visit Taylor, teaching at the Sorbonne.

6. I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith this weekend, and I’m pretty sure that Benjamin “The Tank” Danz is actually Seth Cohen who only gets to be a hitman because Ryan was recruited first and, well, it’s not really his fault that Seth doesn’t take, I’m busy, for an answer, and shows up with bagels at Ryan’s first hit (because I didn’t quite finish the thought).

7. Pretty. Odd. Jobs. It’s, like, the Babysitters Club, only they walk your dogs and paint your fences.