Monday, June 23, 2008

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker AND tits - the seven words you can't say on television. George Carlin's death really bummed me out. I learned of it when I woke up this morning and walked in to my living room just as my mother (she's staying with me for a few days) opened the newspaper. Sometimes news of someone's passing makes me say "ohhhh, wow" and sometimes my reaction is "ohhhhh, no." This one was an "ohhhhh, no."

I saw him perform in the late 70's at the Civic Center. I went with my boyfriend at the time. We were both around 18 years old and had smoked some pot and hash right before the show...and during the show...people passed joints around like cheese puffs in those days...anyway, I was pretty high. Some of what I remember is him riffing on oxymoronic expressions like "jumbo shrimp" and "military intelligence". He talked at great length about a loaf of rye bread and how none of the slices were the same size, making the point that when we open a new loaf of rye bread we all reach into the middle of the loaf for two slices, we never just take the first two slices - but, eventually, we all end up eating the ones we avoided in the first place.

I've learned a lot, both as a person and as an artist, from the likes of George Carlin. From my perspective, art is truth. It's all about having the guts to express your truth, your experience. It's what makes things moving and funny, being willing to see ourselves, our truths, exposed.

RIP George. I am honored to have shared the planet with you.