Primarily a Pointless Post
I have never before experienced such quickness in writing- and not only that, but such intense desires to write something almost every minute of the day. The latest achievements? Another completed short story, which was finished in around thirty minutes- between midnight and one this morning. Final revisions to the poem written the other night, bits and pieces of lyrics, etc. It feels so wonderful, or rather so intensely perfect, to be writing almost constantly, even though I have no idea whether the works are of any importance or goodness. I am reminded of one of my favorite passages in Oscar Wilde's Letters: The pleasure that one has in creating a work of art is a purely personal pleasure, and it is for the sake of this pleasure that one creates. The artist works with his eye on the object. Nothing else interests him. What people are likely to say does not even occur to him. He is fascinated by what he has in hand. He is indifferent to others. I write because it gives me the greatest possible artistic pleasure to write. If my work pleases the few, I am gratified. If it does not, it causes me no pain. As for the mob, I have no desire to be a popular novelist. It is far too easy.
I've also been reading- or rather, re-reading- Wilde's The Critic As Artist. Such a beautiful piece of work, and one with which I agree often. Take this sentence, for instant: Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Or...
GILBERT: Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
ERNEST: His punishment?
GILBERT: And his reward.
Even this potentially controversial passage...
Aesthetics are higher than ethics. They belong to a more spiritual sphere. To discern the beauty of a thing is the finest point to which we can arrive. Even a colour sense is more important, in the developement of the individual, than a sense of right and wrong... Ethics, like natural selection, make existence possible. Aesthetics, like sexual selection, make life lovely and wonderful, fill it with new forms, and give it progress, and variety, and change. And when we reach the true culture that is our aim, we attain to that perfection of which the saints have dreamed, the perfection of those to whom sin is impossible, not because they make the renunciations of the ascetic, but because they can do everything they wish without hurt to the soul, and can wish for nothing that can do the soul harm... Is this dangerous? Yes, it is dangerous- all ideas, as I told you, are so.
On the subject of beauty- and on more practical notes- I went up today to visit the new A.C. Moore store. Going in there for one bunch of artificial flowers for my grandmother, and perhaps a velvet poster, I came out loaded under three large bags. The place casts spells on people! I heard one mother, waiting outside in a car, say to her adult daughter, struggling under the weight of three bags herself: "You weren't supposed to get that much!"
So many things to do now... that store has become the best possible place for me to go when bored, even though not by any standards could I be considered a crafter. Just someone who likes to look at pretty stuff.
Oh, and a note to Santa- I told you I was dreaming of a white Christmas, not an icy Christmas! Please...
I've also been reading- or rather, re-reading- Wilde's The Critic As Artist. Such a beautiful piece of work, and one with which I agree often. Take this sentence, for instant: Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Or...
GILBERT: Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
ERNEST: His punishment?
GILBERT: And his reward.
Even this potentially controversial passage...
Aesthetics are higher than ethics. They belong to a more spiritual sphere. To discern the beauty of a thing is the finest point to which we can arrive. Even a colour sense is more important, in the developement of the individual, than a sense of right and wrong... Ethics, like natural selection, make existence possible. Aesthetics, like sexual selection, make life lovely and wonderful, fill it with new forms, and give it progress, and variety, and change. And when we reach the true culture that is our aim, we attain to that perfection of which the saints have dreamed, the perfection of those to whom sin is impossible, not because they make the renunciations of the ascetic, but because they can do everything they wish without hurt to the soul, and can wish for nothing that can do the soul harm... Is this dangerous? Yes, it is dangerous- all ideas, as I told you, are so.
On the subject of beauty- and on more practical notes- I went up today to visit the new A.C. Moore store. Going in there for one bunch of artificial flowers for my grandmother, and perhaps a velvet poster, I came out loaded under three large bags. The place casts spells on people! I heard one mother, waiting outside in a car, say to her adult daughter, struggling under the weight of three bags herself: "You weren't supposed to get that much!"
So many things to do now... that store has become the best possible place for me to go when bored, even though not by any standards could I be considered a crafter. Just someone who likes to look at pretty stuff.
Oh, and a note to Santa- I told you I was dreaming of a white Christmas, not an icy Christmas! Please...