“Do you know a cure for me?”
“Why yes,” he said, “I know a cure for everything. Salt water.”
“Salt water?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said, “In one form or another;
sweat, tears or the salt sea.”
Monthly Archives: November 2009
The cure
the irony
The sheets were not numbered. Whole sentences and even paragraphs were
marked out and rewritten on the backs of envelopes, on the unused sides
of post cards, in the margins of railroad timetables. The job of
making head and tail, chapter and book, of the wild colossus is an
immeasurably enervating one, requiring, one would think, youth and
health and ego.
And i hear the tears for the first time in my life when I saw his
film, though hoping that neither of us would take advantage of the irony at
his expense.
And the circus will go on.The pain that came from
I now fully believe there are people who spread pain wherever they go. They aren’t necessarily bad like a Hitler or some other outsized villains. Often they are just you and me’s trying to live their lives. But somehow pain bringers are cursed with a dark talent for making things go bad; leaving behind them suspiciously long trails of angry broken hearts, or dreams, or plans… Whether it’s conscious or unconscious they continuously mess life up, or make jobs harder for others to do, confuse where confusion is not necessary, grate where smoothness was once the norm before they arrived. It can be on a small scale or large. Whenever they enter a life or situation they tramp a kind of psychic mud onto clean floors that is difficult to clean and sometimes permanently stains. Now and then these people are unquestionably mean or selfish, but not as a rule. Like those poor souls who are struck by lightning again and again for some mysterious reason throughout their lives, pain bringers only have to become involved in something and too frequently for it to be chance or coincidence, they cause it to go south in very negative ways. I was thinking about this for a long time today and could specifically name three people I have known who fall into this category. You couldn’t identify it by looking at any of them. They’re often compelling, passionate, funny, capable, alluring, attractive, or even generous people. But bond with them in any other than a superficial way and you can almost be certain you’ll be hit by *their* lightning. Beyond any doubt it will leave some kind of nasty scorch mark on your psyche/heart/life/business/confidence/values/beliefs/soul or otherwise.
LIfe
Life is like a deadly disease, sexually transmitted.
Guided by Voices
She was the single most important person in my life . She was the light, the beacon that’s kept me from shipwreck.
She did all the things a mother is supposed to do: unmovable love of your child.
She was the woman who put a whisper of faith and hope inside me…who made me want to keep trying…keep seeking…keep fighting…keep being.
She’s gone now, but her light goes on inside of me.
Can’t get there from here
It’s not HERE or THERE that’s the problem, it’s the GETTING.
Here’s to you Mrs. Robinson
Someone I love is gone and I don’t know where, I don’t know why.
The Ego and the Artist
He always seems to want to get people to be pleased, but I always say I try to ignore the good press so then I can ignore the bad. If you like the good and try to ignore the bad, you can get fucked up. But you make it for yourself at the end of the day, and that’s who you’ve got to satisfy.
Garbage
This is a garbage film. Literally. Lipsett films were saved from the garbage by an worker at the archives, who passed totally by chance, going home after work. The idea and the name of Lipsett came out from a letter from the trash of another story, and another film. No one can’t find the letter). Lipsett was doing his films from prints and sound leftovers from the NFB garbage bins. The text came as sorting dusty documents and notebooks from the can. The music came, thrown in the David Bryant trash recordings, unreleased and forgotten.
If it was not this film, we would be never able to take ourself out from the trash, that we were at this time…
True
They had always said he was free, that he did what he wanted, that he was true to himself.
Then they said he was manic depressive.
Does that mean if he was “normal” he wouldn’t have been himself?
