“I learned three things in Zurich during the war. I wrote them down. Firstly, you’re either a revolutionary or you’re not, and if you’re not you might as well be an artist as anything else. Secondly, if you can’t be an artist, you might as well be a revolutionary. … I forget the third thing.”
Tom Stoppard. Travesties.
“I haven’t f*cked much with the past
But I’ve f*cked plenty with the future
Over the skin of silk are scars
From the splinters of stations and walls I’ve caressed
A stage is like each bolt of wood
Like a, like a log of Helen, is my pleasure
I would measure the success of a night by the way, by the way I
By the amount of piss and seed I could exude
Over the columns that nestled the P.A.
Some nights I’d surprise everybody by skipping off
With a skirt of green net sewed over
With flat metallic circles which dazzled and flashed
The lights were violet and [Incomprehensible] white
I had an ornamental veil, I can’t bear to use it
With the way my hair was cropped, I craved, craved covering
But now that my hair itself is a veil
And the scalp inside is a scalp of a crazy
And a sleepy Comanche lies beneath this netting of skin
I wake up, I am lying peacefully
I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun
I desire him and he is absolutely ready to seize me
In, in, in, in, in heart, I am a Moslem, in heart, I am an American
In heart, I am Moslem, in heart, I’m an American artist and I have no guilt
I seek pleasure, I seek the nerves under your skin
The narrow archway, the layers, the scroll of ancient lettuce
We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly
The mole on the belly of an exquisite whore
He spared the child and spoiled the rod
I have not sold myself to God”
Patti Smith, Babelogue.
Yeah, there were moments when I thought I’d do something significant. When I believed in myself…
I still believe in myself. But I have no faith in things turning out well. Let’s face it, the British imported their corrupt society into Australia with the First Fleet and it’s never been rooted out.
I once had hopes of being a serious writer. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not hitting some wall and feeling all depressed. I’m just listening to a film about Patti Smith and reconnecting with my youth.
She was so awesome, I say, in a way that I hope will make me sound like a teenager again. Actually, she probably still is.
This, for example…
But I’ll never write stuff like that. I sold my birthright for a mess of potash.
Well, if I’m too depressing for a Saturday night. Let me quote Tennyson:
“…Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved heaven and earth; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
Though much is taken, much abides.
I also just heard an ad which told me that I had the opportunity to own a share in Medibank Private. I thought that I already did.
Yep. I’ll never be an artist. I’m too distracted by politics.