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Monday, May 10, 2004

the beginning:
strong, broken, unobviously so

the end;
fragile, complete, obviously so
sabato style

a character:
as fragile but unobviously so

the ending:
fragile, but obviously so

some people say that jazz and blues are the only american art forms.

the endless stream of self-criticism. those imaginative, delusional assumptions based sometimes on only the most fragile of occurences. a slight remark, an uncomfortable grimace, a hesitation.

"did he mean something by that?"
he meant that i was fat, didn't he.

"is he trying to say something?"


the magnification of all these, the twisting and turning and strecthing - the warping of reality fueled by something weird.

writing, literature as embodying these weird awkward phenomenon negative capturing the inner voice, harnessing it, dominating it, exposing it, writing about, exorcising it in the process.

courageously seeing it, relflecting it, and showing it off, all the time remaining u

there is no denying doubt and fear and self-criticism. there never will be, because they will always be there.
hotbed of commercialism that provides endless motivation

but like pablo rivera said to frida kahlo, "a true artist doesn't paint for money, he paints because he can't live without painting."

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