America, Land of the Free (And the Numb.)

On November 30th, 1947, an essay by renowned American dramatist Tennessee Williams was published in The New York Times Drama Section just 4 days before the premiere of his new play "A Streetcar Named Desire."
In it, he described the months of luxury he experienced after the success of his play "The Glass Menagerie." He stayed in a first-class Manhattan hotel, dined on gourmet food, and lived off of room service. After several months of this continued, he found himself becoming increasingly disenchanted with the things of luxury and well..depressed with the physical world of luxury he found himself in; the 'American plan of Olympus.' Eventually, he found himself becoming indifferent towards people, especially of his close friends.
Williams says,"Conversations all sounded like they had been recorded years ago and were being played back on a turntable." He turned away from his friends, suspecting them of hypocrisy and seeming lack of sincerity and kindliness. He detested and even avoided responding to compliments and flattery on the success of his play and found himself almost entirely bereft of any speck of motivation to write another play. The success had exhausted him.
Sometime after these three months of curious behavior, Williams had eye surgery (his fourth operation, having suffered with a cataract on his left eye for about five years), and it was during his recovery period that he decided to check out of his first-class hotel in Manhattan and leave for Mexico; an 'elemental country where you can quickly forget the false dignities and conceits imposed by success.' It was here that Williams wrote "Streetcar."

I absolutely love this and I hope you'll read what Williams says about the nature of an artist:
"It is only in his work that an artist can find reality and satisfaction, for the actual world is less intense than the world of his invention and consequently his life, without recourse to violent disorder, does not seem very substantial. The right condition for him is that in which his work is not only convenient but unavoidable.
This is an over-simplification. One does not escape that easily from the seductions of an effete way of life. But once you fully apprehend the vacuity of a life without struggle you are equipped with the basic means of salvation. Once you know this is true, that the heart of man, his body and his brain, are forged in a white-hot furnace for the purpose of conflict (the struggle of creation) and that with the conflict removed, the man is a sword cutting daisies, that not privation but luxury is the wolf at the door and that the fangs of this wolf are all the little vanities and conceits and laxities that Success is heir to--why, then with this knowledge you are at least in a position of knowing where danger lies.
You know then, that the public Somebody you are when you "have a name" is a fiction created with mirrors and that the only somebody worth being is the solitary and unseen you that existed from your first breath and which is the sum of your actions and so is constantly in a state of becoming under your own volition.
It is never altogether too late, unless you embrace the Bitch Goddess, as William James called her, with both arms and find in her smothering caresses exactly what the homesick little boy in you always wanted, absolute protection and utter effortlessness.
Security is a kind of death, I think, and it can come to you in a storm of royalty checks by a kidney-shaped pool in Beverly Hills or anywhere at all that is removed from the conditions that made you an artist."

Ok, so I'm just going to state the obvious. We live in a nation that worships the "Bitch Goddess." We LOVE handouts, security, and 'utter effortlessness.' We're raised to have no idea what we want, no idea what we need, and to give our money (and our votes) to anyone that tells us what we want and what we need. Government officials, major corporations and sleazy salesman don't require our minds or original thought, just a few easy payments of $29.95 and we'll live in a life of luxury and ease. It's the American dream, right? Get rich, get a house, drive a nice car, live comfortably. Effortlessly. We buy fast food because it's cheap and convenient, and then turn around and buy a bottle of pills that make losing the weight we gained almost as effortless as the drive to Mcdonalds.
Face it. We're numb, and we like it.
"We are led as easily by the nose as asses are."

But then there's the moment. The moment I'm sure each and every one of us has experienced. The moment where we find ourselves in a place that captivates our attention and awakens each and every one of our senses. You're silent at first, and then you smile. You stand still, and for the first time in a long time, you feel that sensational tingle of joy. Of purpose. You're in a place where you belong, and you're inspired.

I guess what I'm getting at is this. I'm sick of brand names, slogans, jingles and infomercials. I hate People magazine and I can't stand the sight of an eight year old with a Blackberry. The smell of gasoline and the neon lights are giving me a heartache. My eyes sting from looking at a screen for too long, and my eyebrows are in a constant clench because I can't stop thinking about how much I want to wake the souls, hearts, and minds of the young people of America. I honestly believe it's a matter of life or death.

So, in case you were wondering what the point of all this was, (I just re-read what I wrote and could only gather that the conclusion I was attempting to make is that our consumer-istic society is sucking our souls out of our nostrils) it's this: Challenge your mind, exercise your creativity. It's good. You know it is. You have to ask yourself, "What is good for me?" Not "What would be the easiest for me?"


For the artists of this lifetime, here's your answer:

"What is good? The obsessive interest in human affairs, plus a certain amount of compassion and moral conviction, that first made the experience of living something that must be translated into pigment or music or bodily movement or poetry or prose or anything that's dynamic and expressive -- that's what's good for you if you're at all serious in your aims."