W. Kandinsky: "There are no 'musts' in art." T.S. Eliot: "There is no freedom in art." Dostoievski character, after the ancient Middle East epigram: "Everything is permitted." (R-rated weblog. Since one has been advised there is no Literature anymore, or even literature, only writing, one proceeds on the premise that this weblog qualifies as not-meaningless, since it is, or appears to be, a form of "writing." Image: Banksy.)
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Sunday, January 13, 2008
Knowing One's State as Fiction
My research for the screenplay is taking me far afield, I'm off course, reading a second Higgins novel that has nothing to do with gambling but which I am enjoying because the settings are towns in this state I've never gotten to know because we've never had any reason to visit them in person, so one feels surrounded by hordes of absolute strangers, so I'm finally getting to know what some of these towns are like, as fiction, but that suits me, it's better than nothing, the other rewarding aspect of the novel, Defending Billy Ryan, being the likeable attitude of the narrator, a criminal trial lawyer who says of himself, 'To this day I have no idea how I passed the bar exam.' I mean if you're reading Joyce and Proust and Beckett, why do you need to go to Framingham? I need to go back to the library and do a "gambling addiction" key word search instead of just "gambling." I tried Jack Spicer's Magazine Verses as the result of a Sorrentino recommendation in Something Said, but it was a waste of time; also glanced at poems by Zukofsky and Tate in a paperback anthology I found next to the door to a squash court years ago and this also proved to be a waste of effort.
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