Tuesday, September 25, 2012

In The Immediate Past I've Had Far More Interesting Dreams

But the only one I truly remember is what I had at sunrise either today or yesterday.  I was half-awake, even mostly, so that this 'dream' was really more of a conscious thought. 

Salvador Dali was sort of a hack, and a jackass of a person too.  I used to like the guy, years ago during my college interregnum.  Even as a returning freshman I wrote my first real paper about him for art appreciation class. (No trace of that one's existence now; thank the fuck Christ, though I did get an A.)  But as I've gone through the business of living adultish I now discover that my opinion of the man and his work has evolved to the perfect opposite of what it was before.  Gaudy ass- "Let's make it weird, let's put clouds in it' pap made by a self-aggrandizing borderline fascist cartoon. 

I used to beleive in a calculating 'seperate the art from the artist' aesthetic and I still believe in a rough version of that, though of course experience and wisdom have complicated the matter for me greatly.  I should have known that yes of course what the artist produces is a part of themselves and to love a certain work must be to love that part of the person.  I still do beleive that one can be a good artist and a bad person, I mean Roman Polanski does exist so it's really no matter of "belief" to say so is it? I also do beleive that individual humans can be weighed and measured to be generally good or bad people, even great or evil people.   Still I do not believe that anyone has any true essential self.  We are all different torn threads whose needs and wants interact haphazardly, and judging a person as either bad or good is nothing more objective than measuring the aggregate of these seperate schizophrenic threads.  That goes for everyone. 

  My attitude towards romance is suspicion bordering on contempt; basically unchanged since my pre-pubescent youth.  Muddled by experience as all things are, but mostly unchanged.   

I still do have the same admiration for Frida Kahlo that I had in my youth.  My appreciation for her work waxes and wanes over time but is always positive.  Mostly though I think she would be a fly woman to drink and party and have sex with.  I want to immerse myself in all the psychosexual geopolitical backstabbing melodrama that was her world.  At least as long as I'm free to run back to my time machine when the shit gets too hot.  I watch Bravo and Cinemax both together and I suppose this has an influence. 

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