It is rambling
Life - Is an inappropriate word to begin an essay with, for it inspires nothing but contempt on the reader’s part for the pompous ass posing as author who thinks he knows what life is. Because all readers by definition, by birth, by duty know more not only about what life is, but who life involves, what life’s purpose is, where life hangs out and therefore own the right to discussing it.
‘It’ is a placeholder, which looks better in single quotes than in double quotes. “It” doesn’t cut it.
Living an It is not like writing a book purposefully with great recurring motifs and underlying dramatic themes following a pattern of rising action-climax-falling action -and conclusion with the occasional denouement in that the book of your life will never be read, not by you or any other. There is no judge in the end, to discuss the literary merits of It, and there will be no great rush of simplified or unsimplified memory at the end of It. You and It will die together.
Living an It is like creating a painting in that It is appreciated from every stage of its creation. The charcoal outline is appreciated, fully formed, and promptly covered in a layer of basic blocks of dull color, which are in turn admired for their precise shapes and color play, and then covered in more paint. It is like the creation of a painting - not like seeing a painting in a gallery. You will never see your It hanging anywhere - though there is a product, and the product must of course be the goal, it won’t ever be visible except for the traces and development of Its plans in the creation.
Art created without a pattern, an opus, an idea in mind isn’t nearly as enjoyable to create - try it.
It must be art. It must be available to as much creative influence as allows for there to still be an image in the end - which is to say that it is limitless with respect to people. Artists and Authors and It-ers must want something, must love something, must have passion beyond the scope of imagining what is larger.
How do you determine what the goal is, once you know that It’s the biggest thing you can think of? What if you’ve run out of biggest things? This isn’t a problem for most people - I don’t think most of the people I know think about It in these terms. I can almost see what I want. I see all the negative space around It, and It’s hard to focus on, blurry, soft. No causes, no getting by, no family.
Well there’s always love.
Like hell there is.
‘It’ is a placeholder, which looks better in single quotes than in double quotes. “It” doesn’t cut it.
Living an It is not like writing a book purposefully with great recurring motifs and underlying dramatic themes following a pattern of rising action-climax-falling action -and conclusion with the occasional denouement in that the book of your life will never be read, not by you or any other. There is no judge in the end, to discuss the literary merits of It, and there will be no great rush of simplified or unsimplified memory at the end of It. You and It will die together.
Living an It is like creating a painting in that It is appreciated from every stage of its creation. The charcoal outline is appreciated, fully formed, and promptly covered in a layer of basic blocks of dull color, which are in turn admired for their precise shapes and color play, and then covered in more paint. It is like the creation of a painting - not like seeing a painting in a gallery. You will never see your It hanging anywhere - though there is a product, and the product must of course be the goal, it won’t ever be visible except for the traces and development of Its plans in the creation.
Art created without a pattern, an opus, an idea in mind isn’t nearly as enjoyable to create - try it.
It must be art. It must be available to as much creative influence as allows for there to still be an image in the end - which is to say that it is limitless with respect to people. Artists and Authors and It-ers must want something, must love something, must have passion beyond the scope of imagining what is larger.
How do you determine what the goal is, once you know that It’s the biggest thing you can think of? What if you’ve run out of biggest things? This isn’t a problem for most people - I don’t think most of the people I know think about It in these terms. I can almost see what I want. I see all the negative space around It, and It’s hard to focus on, blurry, soft. No causes, no getting by, no family.
Well there’s always love.
Like hell there is.