No two people are not on fire.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
That woman may have been a great writer who looked carefully and deeply at a lot of buildings, trains, and well polished desks but I am certain she never pressed a gun to her temple.
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Sed,
I sincerely want to thank you for taking the time to write that thoughtful answer to my question.
Thank you for helping me see these things a bit better.
My birthday was last week and I think that was the gift I didn't know I needed. Anyway, hope all's good in your corner of FL, ya beautiful basterd. I'm in CA, as you might recall. We just had two big quakes (one of them was the strongest in 20 years). If the Big One hits and I survive I'll be sure to let you know by way of The Chalkboard! :D
I like your take re: Art; being closer to naked than honest.
I think, to add to this, that truly great art doesn't aim at "being (great) art", but rather at discovering, mapping, dancing and foraging into darkness or chaos in some kind of innocent manner (notwithstanding nakedness, the potential vulnerability, the apparent danger). The routine you speak of here resonates especially. No worthwhile art or achievement seems to be accidental or random. Lately I've become acutely aware of the fact that Time feels way more finite and important than 10 years ago when I was dicking around to a greater degree.
I always heard from older folks some version of the same thing you've been saying but lately it resonates in more places.
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A Dog had learned to carry his master’s dinner to him every day. He was very faithful to his duty, though the smell of the good things in the basket tempted him.
The Dogs in the neighborhood noticed him carrying the basket and soon discovered what was in it. They made several attempts to steal it from him. But he always guarded it faithfully.
Then one day all the Dogs in the neighborhood got together and met him on his way with the basket. The Dog tried to run away from them. But at last he stopped to argue.
That was his mistake. They soon made him feel so ridiculous that he dropped the basket and seized a large piece of roast meat intended for his master’s dinner.
“Very well,” he said, “you divide the rest.”
Take that, subspace.
