February 11th, 2009
Pondering Originality
We all want to be original, right? To turn heads, to raise an eyebrow…But what is original anymore? Two topics prevailed during yesterdays lunch table conversation: pantyhose and applications. Ill spare you details on the former. The gist of the latter was that many of the apps people are thinking up already exist in some state.
Swissmiss recently posted a lovely quote from Jim Jarmusch, opening with the phrase nothing is original. Proving his point, Jarmusch borrowed words from Jean-Luc Godard. I stole that snippet and pasted it above. Why not? After all, originality is non-existent. Or maybe its omnipresent. Originality is not about creating from scratch. Its about exploring whats around you and turning that into something entirely new.
Traditions and entire cultures are based on sharing, trading and building off of ideas. Consider call and response as a musical device. Its about one-upping each other in a hypnotic exchange of high notes or sharps. Open-sourcing is simply the next chapter in an age-old practice.
Something to Think About: How do you transform inspiration into originality? Given my vast appreciation for David Bowie, I decided to splice and rearrange his spacey, heartfelt lyrical phrases to create a brand new tale. So while the words are his (aside from the title), the story is my own. An original short I hope you enjoy it.
A Brief, Imagined Love Affair: David Bowie, Will You Be My Valentine?
I just met the wrong guy. Oh man!
Asked for his name: Ziggy.
Ziggy really sang jammin good.
Insane sunshine, his soul shines.
Wonder if hell ever know how Ill wish upon, wish upon, day upon day
Just keep cool.
Dear Ziggy, far above the moon, Ill run with you.
Mummy is yelling no, but Ill stick with you baby for a thousand years.
Ooo, your face. Your consolations. Your pretty cranium.
Fall into my arms and tremble like a flower.
Look out world, you know Ive got mine.
Just keep cool. I just keep cool.
Dear Ziggy, Im looking for a ride on top of Manhattan.
Theres gonna be space to boogie up there.
We like dancing and we look divine.
Lets sway on top of Manhattan, you and me.
We dont give a damn. Whop, whop, whop.
Real cool. I just keep cool.
Ziggy, here we are at the center of it all.
Fighting in the dance hall in the dark.
You want more and you want it fast.
Youve tried so hard to fly in the fog.
But I guess Im feeling very still.
Walk tall, keep cool.
Ziggy
You could look into my eyes, you know.
Your hands ache in pain. Sweet hands.
I wish I was smarter. Unskilled hands.
The tears on the face stumbled to cry.
Its so hard for us to really be.
Never look back, walk tall.
Now here this, Ziggy.
You gotta get smart.
A crooked smile. Wheres your shame?
Them toffees
sweetly reminiscent, something mother used to bake.
Kissing all the ladies. Dont break my heart.
Never look back, act fine.
Dear Ziggy, I got so lost on my own.
I dont want to leave.
Buy a drink for me, well dance the blues.
Theres only one way to linger on.
Hot tramp, I love you so!
p.s. Ziggy plays my song in tune.
Aint that close to love?
