... I was wondering "why?". About the "why" as it were of this particular endeavour (and others like it). Why spend your time on something--which has an undeniably performative aspect--when you are unsure of your reach, unsure of your quality... but under the strong impression that the former, at least, is not expansive?
--poetry being a rather interesting art... because more or less unnecessary. You could go read, of course, but who attends poetry readings?--poets. A highly, highly reflexive field we have here.
Once I had a teacher, and I was talking to him about how one might make a living this way. And his response was--you won't. But if you find something within you that compels you to keep writing, you might as well. (a rather trite, "artistic" response--but he liked his stereotype, eh? "Oh don't use 'professor', it sounds so formal..."--and I called him professor anyway, because it was getting a little too precious... and I like a bit of camp).
The internet is surely rather harshly egalitarian--in that one's success cannot be imposed... can only stem, a little, from one's natural abilities... and, more so, on the mysterious calculus of other peoples' sensibilities. To hell with the internal critic--the greatest challenge must be the rather vicious flightiness of the human attention span. (and since poetry, especially, is aimed at catching the mind in its periphery--it is more clear here than elsewhere).
And so, I suppose, the benefit of the situation is that it keeps you honest. The answer to the question being--because I have something to say. This particular thing to say, in fact. And to be said this way.
Nietzsche writes that creativity should be internally focused, like giving birth. (which is a bit of a... sticky metaphor, isn't it? But it works well enough) A concentration on the making. Which, I think, is the satisfaction of it... possibly the only sound satisfaction. Certainly the only one possible if one wants one's work to ring true. Or, at least, true enough.
2 comments:
I think my poetry shall remain here in the blogspace .. some kind souls read them here off and on .. but no one is going to pay for it and buy a book of poetry written by me..
as you've rightly put .. I write coz
"I have something to say. This particular thing to say, in fact. And to be said this way."
Now that I think of it .. I haven't bought any book of 'modern poetry' either .. and poetry readings are tedious .. I prefer to imbibe them alone ..
btw I do understand.. @ the mail! apologies accpeted :D
monsoons are almost a month away ..however in my city it barely rains.. :( but when it does.. its beautiful ..
hows the weather treating you these days?
and yes I am trying to write.. yup trying ..
... funny that it should matter so much--the weather. Must be the Scorpio, in me.
A good thing--rain in a dry place. Washes off the dust, eh?
The Muse: ...sometimes to be wooed, and sometimes to be dragged out of the muck, hissing.
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