So, I can’t say anything against digital art.
Well, I guess I could. But I’m not gonna do that right now. Even though the next step, Artificial Intelligence (aka: AI) is kicking in like a bad guy knocking down the door in a spy movie. Yeah, pretty soon humans will be totally unnecessary. OK, I can hardly write that and keep a straight face. But that’s what both proponents and opponents of AI would have you believe.
But again, I’m not getting into any of that right now. My thoughts, even when I’m creating digital art, tend to drift out to the fields and streams and open countryside. Out where the true necessities exist. Food. Water. Fresh air. Sunshine. If you don’t have those, none of the rest of this world matters.
My memories include a LOT of those food, water, fresh air, sunshine moments. Hours, days, weeks, and even years in the heartland of America. Where real people did real things. And where relationships weren’t just important. They were crucial for survival.
Thankfully, there are still a lot of Americans who live that life. And they’re the ones who do their best to make sure the rest of us, who don’t farm and raise livestock, have plenty to eat. And despite your government’s most atrocious efforts to convince you otherwise, there is still plenty to eat. Right here in America. Just because despicable people would like to keep you separated from that truth doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
Today, right now, right this very minute, I miss the scent of hay and horses. And I miss the sounds of tackle boxes and tractors. And I miss the days of driving the back roads with the windows down.
I’m at an age, in a broken country, when I’ll probably never experience all that again. But my hope is that there will be enough younger people who would cherish those days enough to turn things back around. The future will not be a victim of preordained fate, in spite of what some ignorant people would have you believe. But the future will be a victim of your apathy. Or a beneficiary of your faith over fear.
What do you say we stir up some analog action in the middle of these digital art days?
He makes his living in that smoky ol’ dive.
He’s still believin’ that his time will arrive.
He bangs the keys out to the rhythm and horns.
He says that it’s exactly why he was born.
Don’t wanna face your facts; he’ll just keep makin’ tracks.
Because he know that it’s what keeps him alive
Don’t use no cellphone, and he don’t go online.
Says AM radio will suit him just fine.
Still winds his watch and keeps a pencil and pad.
Ol’ black and white t.v…says it ain’t so bad.
Don’t mind a little hiss…he says “that’s soulful bliss.”
And that’s what really makes the music divine.
He’s an analog cat in a digital cage.
He’s an analog letter; not a digital page.
Built his analog house from an analog plan.
Says throw them little digits in the can.
He’s an analog man.
He lights his ciggy with a blue diamond match.
Don’t play no video; he loves to play catch.
He drives a Thunderbird from ‘56.
It uses cheap gas and it’s easy to fix.
Might leak a little oil, but it don’t overboil.
And just like him it was the last of a batch.
Repeat chorus…instrumental…chorus to end
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