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 it’s omnipresent. Originality is not about creating from scratch. It’s about exploring what’s 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. It’s 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 he’ll ever know how I’ll wish upon, wish upon, day upon day…
Just keep cool.
Dear Ziggy, far above the moon, I’ll run with you.
Mummy is yelling “no,” but I’ll 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 I’ve got mine.
Just keep cool. I just keep cool.
Dear Ziggy, I’m looking for a ride on top of Manhattan.
There’s gonna be space to boogie up there.
We like dancing and we look divine.
Let’s sway on top of Manhattan, you and me.
We don’t 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.
You’ve tried so hard to fly in the fog.
But I guess I’m 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.
It’s so hard for us to really be.
Never look back, walk tall.
Now here this, Ziggy.
You gotta get smart.
A crooked smile. Where’s your shame?
Them toffees…sweetly reminiscent, something mother used to bake.
Kissing all the ladies. Don’t break my heart.
Never look back, act fine.
Dear Ziggy, I got so lost on my own.
I don’t want to leave.
Buy a drink for me, we’ll dance the blues.
There’s only one way to linger on.
Hot tramp, I love you so!
p.s. Ziggy plays my song in tune.
Ain’t that close to love?
