It was asked of me if I would blog about details emerging in regards to Michael Jackson’s death. This will be my final post on the subject, and this is all I have left to say: It is not my place, nor is it my desire to comment on or pursue such matters. The man has died, and he deserves to rest in peace. Highly creative and talented people like Michael Jackson–whom I call “A True CreativeBeast”–develop an unearthly and brilliant energy that can’t help but attract others. Admirers crave this energy in a way that can be downright frightening, and such attention can be a tremendous weight to bear; so much so, that some creative souls simply collapse beneath it. I believe that CreativeBeasts are creatures that have great strength, but at the same time, are highly fragile…
One of my favorite films is Blade Runner. I can’t help but think of the quote by the character Eldon Tyrell, “The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” He was speaking to Roy, one of his prized creations.
Consider that fire needs oxygen. Without it; it dies, and the more intense the fire; the greater its need for air. Great artists are intense fires. They burn so very brightly, but to maintain such an intensity for any length of time is an incredible feat. The truth is that in the end, we are all only human, yet when some humans attempt to make deities of other humans, things become skewed on both sides.
It seems that society rarely tires of creating stars, only to take equal pleasure in watching them fall, or in some cases; tearing them down. I don’t care to know the details of how or why Michael Jackson died. I understand that others feel differently, but I just don’t have any more questions. At this point, to dig for answers seems a bit like rifling through someone’s dresser drawers… inappropriate and disrespectful. It’s a worn-out cliche, but songs like Elton John’s Candle in the Wind and The Kinks’ Celluloid Heroes also enter my mind. I think tonight, I’ll sign off with a favorite scene from Blade Runner; here is Rutger Hauer as Roy:
He was “The King of Pop,” and a legend in his time… Michael Jackson. Say what you will about him, but there is no denying that “soul” ran through his soul like a wave of electricity. From his childhood career in the 60s and onward, no one could dance like him, sing like him–be like him. Many tried. But there was only one Michael Jackson, and he changed the face of pop music as we know it. He brought a style and sense of creativity to the world that was all his own, and yet his influence remains strong to this day.
I grew up in the 80s, and when Beat It and Billy Jean hit the scene, there was no one more “larger than life” than Michael Jackson. I was living in Vermont at the time, and as an average white girl in seventh grade in an area that was ninety percent average white kids, I am here to say that there wasn’t a kid in school who didn’t want a cool red jacket with black pants and a sparkly white glove, and the ability to do the moonwalk like you were floating on air. In other words: We. All. Worshiped. Michael. Jackson. Everyone owned a copy of Thriller, and if you didn’t know the words to the songs, then there was something wrong with you. He was THE rage. John Lennon once said about The Beatles, “We’re bigger than Jesus,” but John unfortunately wasn’t around to witness the history that Michael Jackson made. With over 100 million copies sold, Thrillermaintains its status as the best selling record album of all times.
Jackson; despite his incredible success, fortune and fame, lived what many would consider to be a troubled life riddled with tales of an abusive childhood, and later on, stories of his own misdeeds; that is to say, inappropriate relationships with children. Due to these allegations, Jackson was brought up on charges, but was never convicted of any crime. Nevertheless and needless to say, the cases and rumors brought a devastating blow to The King of Pop’s career. Additionally, Jackson had what seemed to be an endless affair with the plastic surgery knife; altering his physical image in such a way that made it difficult for many fans to relate. No doubt; Michael Jackson was different. Some might say that he was of another world. He did, indeed, create one of his own; perhaps to avoid facing some of the terrible realities that life is capable of dishing out. Rough spots aside, it should also be remembered that he was one of the most giving individuals of our time; contributing generously to at least thirty nine different charities throughout his career. He notably wrote with Lionel Richie, We Are The World, which quickly rose to the top of U.S. charts, reaching #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 on April 17, 1985, where it remained for four weeks. The huge all-star band of performers that sang on the recording was billed as “U.S.A. For Africa” and sold over 15 million copies worldwide. The silent contributions he made to the world as well as the brilliant music he shared with all of us brought joy and hope to millions. Now, as countless gather around the globe to pay their respects, there is no question as to the impact he has had on our souls, and CreativeBeasts tip their hats. Dear Michael, may you rest in peace. We will miss you, and your beautiful Human Nature.
The Cathedral Square Farmers Market: could be betta.
Saturday morning I had planned on taking a drive to West Bend to check out their farmers’ market, as my friend Robin, who lives there, tells me it’s one of the best in the state. Additionally, Jeff-leen Farm has a stand there; a vendor who raises grass fed Piedmontese beef, about which I have also heard very good things. However. The West Bend Farmers’ Market begins at 7:30 a.m. and closes at 11 a.m. While I had every good intention to leave Milwaukee at 8:30 so I could get there by 9:30, The Master Cleanse and Mother Nature had something else in mind. And you know what they say about good intentions. Anyway, I wasn’t able to leave the house until 9:15. Robin was not pleased about this, and even less so, because I failed to call to let him know I was running late… again. Not until 9:15, at any rate. “Don’t bother coming.” He said. “There won’t be enough time for you to see everything.” Friends of mine–and others–can attest to fact that I am sometimes–ahem–not punctual. You could say that this is an “opportunity for improvement.” My friend Carrie said that for some people, not being on time is a control thing. “Trish!” She said, with her wily grin. “Do you try to control the world with your lateness?” I swear, I don’t. In fact, I’m making a resolution right now. I will be on time. Otherwise, I’m a bit like the spanky-white, brand-new polo shirt–that just got red Kool-Aid spilled down its front. Lateness is lame.
Anyway, and back to my brief conversation with Robin. Apologetic, and somewhat bummed out, I agreed, and resigned myself to visiting the Farmers’ Market downtown at Cathedral Square, which I normally would not do, because in the past, it has struck me as unworthy of the trip from Bay View. It’s small, and generally speaking; lacks a promising number of noteworthy vendors. Frankly, Bay View’s market is better, but it doesn’t start until next week, and since I was already on my way out the door, I figured, “What the heck?” So I went to Cathedral Square. It was about what I expected. Not much happening, though I did buy a grass fed black angus porterhouse steak from Ruegsegger Farms. It was $18/lb, so we shall see. Afterwards, I stopped by one of the herb stands to pick out some English Thyme, but a funny thing happened. The gal “manning” the stand refused to sell it to me.
“This has got to get planted in soil in the ground right away,” she said. “It can’t be put in a pot.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, how about a planter box?”
“How big is it?” She asked.
“Well, it’s about this big.” I stretched out my arms. “It’s a window box. But it’s on the ground.”
“Why can’t you just plant it in the ground?” She pressed.
“Because I don’t have a space for it,” I answered.
“Why don’t you just cut out part of your grass?”
I looked at her, rather puzzled.
“Look, the owners are strict about this. They don’t want people planting them in pots because then they die after one season. They will last about 20 years if you plant them in soil,” she explained.
“Oh, I see. So you’re afraid I’ll come back next year and ask you for some free thyme. I promise I won’t, all right? I’ll plant it in the ground. I’ll make a space. How’s that?”
She said nothing.
“So could I have some thyme, please?”
“Nope. Because you don’t have your soil ready.”
“So you’re not gonna sell it to me.” At this point, we had an audience, and I stared at her in pure disbelief. “Wow,” was all I could say.
“Nope. Get your soil ready and come back next week.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to get right on that.” I said. “See you never,” I thought, as I walked away.
Somewhat irked, I walked over to the Hmong farmers who had plenty of nice, cut herbs. I picked up a bunch of mint. “How much?” I asked the man.
“One dollar.” He said.
I handed him a dollar, and he bagged it up and handed it to me, smiled and said thank you. I like the Hmong farmers.
And that was it for Cathedral Square. I called my friend D and asked her if she wanted to come with me to the West Allis farmers’ market. She agreed, and at 1pm, she and her husband Tom and I went there together. It reminded me of when Dorothy and friends get out of the woods and past the poppy field, and on to Emerald City. Beautiful flowers, herbs and little legume plants everywhere. And the aromas. Like I said, herbs and flowers, but also, grilling Italian sausages and bratwurst and tamales… It was beautiful, truly. If I hadn’t been fasting, I could have seriously been tempted to partake in some decadent, unhealthy food consumption. Okay; so I was tempted. But I did not succumb.
I found a grass fed angus beef vendor at the West Allis market as well; Fer-Li Farms. Their porterhouse is $12/lb. I decided to pick one up so I could do a side by side comparison with Ruegsegger. Stay tuned, and may the best steak win. My final question for this blog is: Why must the Cathedral Square Farmers’ Market be so unsatisfactory; i.e., lame? It’s unimpressive and overpriced, and that is the way it has been for years–and in the heart of downtown Milwaukee on Saturday. I don’t know who organizes this particular farmers’ market, but I will say this: What’s the deal? I’ll say it again: This is the farmers’ market in the heart of downtown Milwaukee. It could be way better. It’s a great location, a great space and in a great city. Do it like you mean it. Represent, yo. …Oh, and I bought my thyme at the West Allis Farmers’ Market.
West Allis Farmers' Market: The Land of Oz.
All right, so if you if know what I’m sayin’, then you know what it means to be a Creative Beast. Where It’s At. Represent. And be on time.
Faith. You can’t hold it in your hands, but it can fill your soul. You don’t know where it comes from, but it sure can take you places.
You may have heard the saying, “Leap and the net shall appear,” once or twice, or maybe a hundred times. It has taken me a while to learn what this means, and for that matter, I’m still learning, but I’m getting closer. Some people learn at an early age, and I wonder if it’s because they don’t know that “leaping” is supposed to be scary. This lack of fear can have its pluses and minuses, but no matter how you slice it, it all boils down to one thing: faith. And it isn’t leaping part of the way. It’s not about standing close to the edge of the cliff, and jumping to edge; it’s about jumping. off. the. cliff. This is what it means to be a Creative Beast. Creativity is faith.
Now; before I go further, I am, of course, speaking figuratively, and in no way am I suggesting to readers that they ought to find the nearest cliff or bridge to leap from, and yes; I am writing this disclaimer so that no one comes after me threatening to sue. That said, figuratively “jumping off the cliff,” means going for your dream–all the way–with everything you can muster, and without looking back. This is not an easy thing to do, even if you are fearless, but if you are willing to make the leap, I suspect that you will begin a journey on which you will discover things that will amaze you, and make you a richer human being. There will be stops along the way. Sometimes the car breaks down, and you find yourself walking a ways. Remember to stay aware, because there is value in the stops, too, and if you’re too busy grumbling about the car breaking down, you might miss something. Pay attention, keep your eye on the prize–and most of all, keep going. Here’s a tune for the road… or sea:
Virginity Soap. For a clean that says "Spiritual."
There are cleanses, and then there are cleanses. Say hello to Virginity Soap, and goodbye to over-sized vaginas! How could we not have known about this?
Here’s the deal: My friend Liza’s mom, Kathy, currently resides in Oman, but she is in the States for a home visit. As thoughtful and generous as ever, she brought back this rare and precious gift that has until now, been missing from our lives: Virginity Soap. I know Middle Easterners are smart, but this is a magic that is simply unheard of… a soap that makes us girls like new–all over again! By the looks of things, this has been a well-kept secret for some time, over there. Now,we have the secret, too! You might be wondering what this has to do with creativity, and to that I say, “Everything.” First of all, anything to do with baby-making is creative by design, and second, what a clever ruse it was to come up with such an idea–a soap that makes you like a virgin… Uh-huh. And why would anyone need such a ridiculous load of snake oil–I mean, soap–in the first place? Well, in some parts of the world, women are led to believe that they have little to no value once they are no longer virgins, so naturally, someone recognized that there was a market for this sort of thing. ‘Tis a strange, strange world we live in.
My only question is: “Do you use it before or after?”
Gently, now. Otherwise it might just close up, altogether.
Hey, kids. T-Haus, here. Guess what? I am at Day 3 of The Master Cleanse! Betcha thought I wouldn’t make it, eh? Well, to that I say, “Hoo-hah!” Yes-sir-ee, nothin’ but lemon juice, water, maple syrup and cayenne peppa for this chickie. I must say that I feel pretty darn good, too. I won’t lie; the last couple of days were brutal. Monday, I wasn’t feeling good at all, in fact. I got a headache which gradually became worse. I took a long nap in the afternoon, and when I awoke, my headache was even worse. I did a few things around the house, but did not write or meditate at all. I did watch a weird movie on Showtime about a little girl who gets kidnapped… Gardens of the Night. I pretty much agree with this review from The New York Times: http://movies.nytimes.com/2008/11/07/movies/07gard.html?ref=movies. In general; not the greatest flick, and yet it still manages to leave you with a sick feeling in your gut, if you can get all the way through it. Welcome to the world of missing children, kiddie porn and sex slavery. If you are a parent of small kids, and have still not told them about why they should never–EVER–talk to strangers, let alone get into a car with one–no matter how nice they might seem–then shame on you. And you should be required to watch this film. …Otherwise, don’t bother. And if for some reason, you’re a kid who is reading this… What are you doing on the internet without parental supervision? Stop reading my blog. I sometimes have a foul mouth–er–pen–er–keyboard (I’m trying to get better). And don’t watch Gardens of the Night. Yuck-o. And don’t talk to strangers, take candy from strangers, or get into cars with strangers. All right. Enough about that creepy, would-be after-school special; were it not for the sex, drugs, violence and foul language.
So, back to The Master Cleanse. After watching the marginal-at-best movie, I realized that I had watched the whole thing, and still had a killer headache. Oh, and Spoiler-Alert: the ending sucked, too. So not only did I feel like crap, I had mental indigestion from a gross film that never got any better. I think that was the deal… I kept thinking as I was watching, “This has to get better.” It didn’t. It got worse, kind of like my headache. I went to bed, and the next morning, my headache was evenworse. We’re talking blinding.“Man, does this suck!” I thought, while I mixed myself a fresh glass of Master Cleanse lemonade through the stars that danced before my eyes. Okay. So halfway through the morning when I was on my second glass, I cheated. I took half an aspirin. But then my headache started to go away, and by late afternoon, I started to feel better. I went and had a cup of tea with my pal, Fred at Starbucks, came back home, had some more lemonade, and by the time Jon Stewart rolled around, my headache was completely gone. Today I feel almost great. The stomach is a bit chatty and rumbly, but otherwise pretty good. I did do “The Internal Salt Bath,” again this morning, as is recommended… I hate that shit. Literally. Same reaction as day one. I may just stick with the Smooth Move tea from here on out. Had a cup before bed last night. It’s okay… better than a quart of hot salt water, and hopefully, it won’t give me the same trouble. FYI, I’m still fantasizing about real food… anything… bacon… bagel with cream cheese… dill pickle… parsley… quesadilla del mar… honestly, I keep going back to the pb & j sandwich… or tuna fish. And whatever you’re thinking, stop, because you’re wrong. Any real food sounds luxurious right now, and that is that. …But I shall remain strong…
Also known as “The Lemonade Diet,” I have decided to give this thing a whirl. “Why, oh why, T-Haus, would you do something so completely insane?” You may ask. Well, my dear friends, I am, after all, the original Creative Beast, and therefore, usually up for some sort of adventure. I must admit, however, that this “adventure,” seems about as enthralling as getting the flu, which I suppose for some, is a weight loss program of sorts–and–Oh, golly! It is nearly time for my second helping of water, fresh squeezed lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper! …I can barely contain myself. And that reminds me, I must tell you how my day began… with the recommended “Internal Salt Bath.” Sounds clean, right? Huh. This is a laxative, folks. And I am here to say that it works. There is a reason that they tell you to “wait two hours before leaving the house.” If you must try this–ONLY–TRY THIS AT HOME! That’s all I have to say about that.
By now, you might be asking yourself, “Trish… T-Haus… Dumbass… why the hell do you wanna do this? You, who are a lover of food, glorious, food …and beverages?” And I say to you this: I heard it’s a good way to get rid of toxic crap that your body stores, AND you can shed a few. But there is another reason I’m doing it. If you’re already a hard core Creative Beast, then you know that I am pretty sure that meditation is a big key, if not the key to unlocking a realm of personal possibilities and opportunities that exist in the world as we know it. So. I’m doing a little personal experiment. I feel I may have a better ability to transcend while meditating if I do this cleanse-thingy. They recommend that you try it for ten days or more if you can hack it. I’ll be impressed enough with myself if I can do five. We shall see. So far, I’ve fantasized about a vanilla latte, a toasted peanut butter and jelly English muffin, and Fage Greek yogurt (pronounced fah-YEH) with blackberries, toasted pine nuts and honey… one of my favorite things in the world (thanks, Demitra, for teaching me about Greek yogurt). I like to slice some of the big, fat blackberries in half because they look pretty and I like the added texture. I mix the blackberries with about a tablespoon of fresh lemon juice, a couple or so tablespoons black raspberry honey from The Wisconsin Honey Cooperative, and about a 1/4 teaspoon of Nielsen-Massey Madagascar bourbon pure vanilla extract (this is the only vanilla I ever use because it IS true vanilla, and it’s how vanilla is supposed to taste). Anyway here it is. I made it the other day… today I am only dreaming about it.
Greek yogurt with blackberries, toasted pine nuts and honey.
I’m not a gusher. I tend to find gushing unappealing. But if and when I meet you, I shall ask you if I may give you a hug. Thank you for writing, Catching the Big Fish. I felt as if it were written directly to me as I was reading, and I couldn’t put it down. It made me feel like I can really make movies, and that it doesn’t simply have to be a dream. Thank you for all of the personal insights and advice on craft. You help to simplify many things that at times, can seem arduous and daunting.
I like what you have to say about heroes, and that Kubrick was/is one of yours. I’m glad that Eraserhead was his favorite film (congratulations). I can only imagine how fun it must have been to receive that news. He is one of my heroes, too. So are you. Some people say that you shouldn’t have heroes, but I disagree. One just needs to keep in mind that we’re all human, and yet we can each be a hero to someone at some point.
I started learning about Vedic Wisdom and synchrodestiny a couple of years ago, but I have just recently begun to practice meditation, thanks to having read your book. Some may find it interesting, however; that had I not read works of Dr. Deepak Chopra and attended his lecture this last winter, I may have not been inclined to pick up your book on the table at Barnes and Noble a few weeks ago, despite the attractive cover, and despite that I am a fan of your work and a lover of film. It just shows that once you begin to increase your awareness, you can’t help but to be more aware of the opportunities–what many of us think of as coincidences–that we are presented with. Every day we are changing, and that in and of itself, is an opportunity. Anyhow, thanks, once again for your compassion, and for helping to expand my vision.
Best,
Trish Hundhausen
p.s. You said, “The woods for a child are magical.” The woods are magical for adults, too, but I’m sure you know this. I just recently rediscovered how magical they can be.
Moss covered log at Whitnall Park; Hales Corners, WI.
Steak and eggs. Lunch. Sustenance. Creative Beasts gotta eat, too. Whatever you want to call it, this is one my favorite ways to eat steak and eggs. I started with a porterhouse steak cooked on the grill the night before, which had been marinated in a garlic-pepper-balsamic vinaigrette. I sliced the steak (strip side, as I had eaten the tenderloin side the previous night), and set it aside. I diced half of a vidalia onion, and a good handful of wild onions freshly picked from the woods of Wisconsin (thanks, Robin, for teaching me about wild onions).
wild onions of Wisconsin
I caramelized the onions with a very nice balsamic vinegar (basalmico aceto)–Giuseppe Giusti of Modena– which might be considered a bit blasphemous, since this type of balsamic is generally used for finishing… I dunno. The onions were delicious. And as far as the vinegar goes, there’s more where that came from. Thanks, Williams-Sonoma… and thank you, Giuseppe. Next, I gently and quickly sauteed some fresh baby spinach and radicchio in a little butter, a pinch of sea salt and squeeze of lemon juice. Meanwhile, I had boiled some DeLallo linguine (al dente with butter), and last but definitely not least, I gently fried an egg, sunny side up. Then, to serve, I tossed the steak with the caramelized onions. Layed the pasta into a bowl, added the caramelized onions followed by the spinach and radicchio, then the steak, then the egg. I added a little more of everything on top, then fresh ground pepper. As you can see, I also added a quartered campari tomato with a little lemon juice and salt and pepper. The best part is breaking the egg so that the yolk runs over the rest of the plate. Yum.
Hooray for coffee. I know I’m not the first to say it, nor will I be the last. But still… yay.
Hooray for Starbucks as well. It’s clean, friendly, smoke-free and comfortable. And I don’t care what anybody says; I even like the coffee. And they play good tunes. I like writing at the cafe sometimes. It helps to get out of the house, and have a change of scenery. You could say that it’s office away from office–home office, that is.
That said, let’s talk about environments for a moment, shall we? More specifically, work environments. How many times in your life has someone said to you, “Have you seen Office Space?” I think it’s been about a hundred times for me. And yes, I’ve seen it. It isn’t my favorite movie, or even in my top 20, but I appreciate and thoroughly understand why this flick is loved and revered by so many. Offices and corporate life can really suck, and when I say “suck,” I mean they can really and truly suck the life right out of you, and especially if you happen to be a Creative Beast. The makers of the film got that–big-time. They saluted the office stereo-types, and said “Up yours,” to the corporate assholes (and may it be noted here, that I do not feel that all corporate people are assholes. There are assholes everywhere you go, and corporate outfits are no exception. There just may be a higher percentage of them in “the office.” It seems to be par for the course. At this point you might be saying, “It takes one to know one.” And you might be right). The movie became a cult classic and a big release for everyone who has had to work in such an environment. Here’s a clip:
Now. That said, drudgerous corporate hell is not a necessity. Yeah, that’s right; it doesn’t have to be so. There are workplaces that nurture and foster creativity, and–surprise, surprise–very often, these places are considered to be the best places to work, according to surveys taken. So my question is, why don’t more companies work on creating better environments for their employees? Do all the HR text book studies really indicate that putting people in cubes with ugly brown-grey walls makes workers more productive? Because here’s the thing: Fast food restaurants have a history of using the same ugly colors in their restaurants–so that people will eat quickly and get the hell out.
I believe most companies aren’t really looking for people that think for themselves too much, and most companies do not care about the spirit of the individual. But what about the ones that do? What if more places really cared to learn about the people that they hire, and find ways to put their greatest skills and talents to use? What if more places offered work environments that encouraged individual growth in addition to the growth of the bottom line? What if more schools and educational programs were designed in the same way? I think companies with real vision do function thusly. I think the ones that prefer drab cubes and don’t want to invest in creativity are really rather old-school and backwards, and eventually, they will lose out. Basically, here’s the deal: everybody has dreams of something greater… something better… something more inspiring. That’s why shows like American Idol are wildly successful, and movies like Office Space make people LTAO, and think things like “Hell, yeah!” with fires in their bellies. Life is not about the 9-5 grind, the twenty minutes on the treadmill or the mowing of the lawn. Not that these things are evil or wrong in any way–it’s just that there is so much more to look forward to, and when people fail to recognize that, it’s sad. It makes me think that “The American Dream” in some cases has mutated into “The American Nightmare,” and that’s a shame.
Creative Beasts need each other, and they need creativity. They feed off of one another. They are wired to be inspired. They make each other laugh, and they brighten each others’ lives. They are wild, passionate, beautiful creatures that aren’t afraid to believe in things that aren’t in front of their noses. Magical things like airplanes and spaceships; aliens and Santa Claus–or Jesus, if you prefer. The point is that to be creative takes faith. More on that later. Creative Beasts are sometimes reckless, sometimes crazy and sometimes they make each other crazy–and everybody else, for that matter. But they need each other, and everybody else needs them. So if you’re a Creative Beast, and you feel like you’re somewhere that you don’t belong, chances are, you don’t. Take heart, hold your head high and keep on doin’ what you’re doin’. And ask yourself… what would the world be like without people like Thomas Edison or Albert Einstein or Leonardo daVinci or the Wright Brothers? Beethoven, Mozart, Muddy Waters, John Coltrane or The Beatles? Madame Curie or Gertrude Ederle? Jane Austen, Ella Fitzgerald, Joni Mitchell, Aretha Franklin, and Gilda Radner? Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and Richard Branson? Gandhi, Mother Theresa, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr? Ed Sullivan, Johnny Carson, Ellen DeGeneres or David Letterman? Oprah? Julia Child and Jacques Pepin? Alice Waters, Lydia Bastianich, Charlie Trotter, David Chang and Michel Bras? Clint Eastwood, Martin Scorsese, Stanley Kubrick, Ridley Scott, Woody Allen, and David Lynch? You get the idea. I could fill a book with names of people that without whose light, the world would not be nearly so bright a place. Think about it… And then give this a listen:
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