Pfeiffer Falls, Big Sur

The Monday after vloggercon, Raymond, Quirk, Weagel, Clark, and I retreated to Big Sur. Since this was the first time all of us shared the same physical space, it was orginally going to be a PAN outing so that we could get some much needed business taken care of, like secret handshakes, the signing of contracts in blood, that type of thing, but we had room for one more, and he looked like he needed to get out of town. When we asked Clark if he wanted to come, he took one breath, and said, “I’ll grab my bag.” He’s a good man to have around, plus he had a copy of Hot Action, which we bumped on the way down.

We hiked up to Pfeiffer Falls for a minor bout of introspection and contemplation. It didn’t take long until the sense of the absurd took over. I blame it on the residuals left over from a long weekend. A professor of mine would’ve called this meta-theatricality (I think he made up the word), maybe a better word would be metavlogging, which, like introspection, a little goes a long way.

Before the trip to San Fransisco, I grabbed The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus from my parents pocketbook library. It seemed appropriate at the time. Books often jump out at me, they practically fly off the shelves and hit me in the face when it’s the proper time for me to read them. I had read this in highschool and didn’t get much out of it. I’m not big on philosophy, or existentialism for that matter, but there was some good shit in it. After San Fran, this quote seemed appropriate:

“In the creation in which temptation to explain is the strongest, can one overcome that temptation? In the fictional world in which awareness of the real world is keenest, can I remain faithful to the absurd without sacrificing to the desire to judge? So many questions to be taken into consideration in a last effort. It must be already clear what they signify. They are the last scruples of an awareness that fears to forsake its initial and difficult lesson in favor of a final illusion. What holds for creation, looked upon as one of the possible attitudes for the man concious of the absurd, holds for all the styles of life open to him. The conqueror or the actor, the creator or Don Juan may forget that their excercise in living could not do without awareness of its mad character. One becomes accustomed so quickly. A man wants to earn money in order to be happy, and his whole effort and the best of his life are devoted to the earning of that money. Happiness is forgotten; the means are taken for the end. Likewise, the whole effort of this conqueror will be diverted to ambition, which was but a way toward a greater life. Don Juan in turn will likewise yield to his fate, be satisfied with that existence whose nobility is of value only through revolt. For one it is awareness and for the other, revolt; in both cases the absurd has disappeared. There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart. The most destitute men often end up by accepting illusion. That approval prompted by the need for peace inwardly parallels the existential consent. There are thus gods of light and idols of mud. But it is essential to find the middle path leading to the faces of man.”

And this, which I directly link to the PAN and many others working now:

“Thus, I ask of absurd creators what I required from thought - revolt, freedom, diversity.”

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