I now wonder where the idea or of the ideology of creativity started. Shakespeare and company certainly stole from, copied each other’s writings. Before them, the Greeks didn’t both making up any new stories. I suspect that the ideology of creativity started when the bourgeoisie—when they rose up in all their splendor, as the history books put it—made a capitalistic marketplace for books. Today a writer earns money or a living by selling copyright, ownership to words. We all do, we writers, this scam, because we need to earn money, only most don’t admit it’s a scam. Nobody really owns nothing.
Admitted to a good liberal arts college and the free honors program at my city's public university. I'd prefer the LAC's academics/culture, but I barely grasp the meaning of 230k. Consciously, all I'd like in this life is to open the floodgates of my sternum and let that primordial silvery stuff inside out to mix with the equivalent fluids that sit in others' guts, dormant until piqued by the prospect of combination. But considering the more frugal choice stings my pride sharply. How do I deal?
Because liberal arts education is yet another thing that’s free to those who can afford it but very expensive for those who can’t, the real question isn’t about school but about yourself. The question is:
Do you care about the whirl of experience more than you care about the comfort and leisure that would make that sort of life a pleasure?
Because if you do liberal arts right, you’ll become a roulette ball that never settles. For the rest of your life, no identity will seduce, no doctrine will persuade, and no accomplishment will reward. You will not win because the momentum of intellectual greed bends everything into a circuit.
If Faust and Paradise Lostdon’t read as cautionary tales to you; if you’re okay with seeming like a loser to everyone around you and—inwardly—even to your deepest self, then do it.
You’ll be in debt either way: better to yourself than Sallie Mae Cocksucker.
Erasmus preferred to live the life of an independent scholar and made a conscious effort to avoid any actions or formal ties that might inhibit his freedom of intellect and literary expression. Throughout his life, he was offered many positions of honor and profit throughout the academic world but declined them all, preferring the uncertain but sufficient rewards of independent literary activity.
– from the Wikipedia entry on Erasmus (cf. Bill Cunningham’s eloquent advice: “If you don’t take money, they can’t tell you what to do.”)
if you could, would you live forever?
Karl Marx wrote most of Capital at a side table not much larger than an open issue of the New York Times. Feeling as he did for most of his creative life, a pain in his side that reminded him constantly of his father’s early death from liver cancer.
the phenomenon of suicide would appear to argue that even mortal life as we now experience it is too long for some people.
kites don’t work without the string…
Short and beautiful things like this are why I love lazenby.
Ask yourself very rigorously what you need to be happy every day. Committing to action before you know could be disastrous.
Humans have had 300,000 years to get used to how beautiful women can be and we still haven’t managed it—one can come along any hour any day and just knock you flat. And that’s a human fact, that’s the human experience: we try to think of modern, productive things to do all day and then just there’s women and all the things women can do and it’s this neverending miracle that makes the world keep moving. And it’s terrible: not “terrible” in the sense of “bad” but in the old old sense way back in the etymology: “terrible” as in the trembling you feel in front of something divine.
If I could see where [my writing] was going there’d be no point in doing it. You make things because there’s a hamster in your head running on a wheel telling you to make them. You keep hoping The Next Thing will shut it up. I would love to never write anything again. I’d love to never draw anything ever again, but the hamster hates me.