Walking into the Library this morning, with both my brain and the Earth thawing out; I realized that I have not read enough of these books. I am too restless to sit quietly and read. I like the action of a stage, a theater, a keyboard. I’ve barely read anything beyond a newspaper since college. And the recordings! My God! The Library has miles and miles of every kind of music and what do I know? I get rap. I adore Lady Gaga, but I am able sing along with Jerome Kern. Can’t help lovin’ dat man. I have heard Georg Solti conduct and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau sing lieder. But I am proudest of having heard Janis Joplin and Liza Minnelli sing live. Janis gave a bit too much. You knew she was doomed, but you were thrilled to be able to witness the Thorn Bird burn like white phosphorus.
Too many people want to perform or write. Am I so good as to be the one to deprive them of their chance? I have to be so good that the audience doesn’t think they could do better. They applaud because they know only I can reach THAT level. And if I cannot reach THAT level, and leave them thinking they could do better, I have failed. I really should start reading all these God-damned books because I know that they are better than me and can make me a better writer. I should invest in a stereo and start listening to that music because they can improve my musical feel. We are part of a community. Part of an era. It is not just about us and our Art, but about the whole damned mess that makes up American creativity in the 21st Century. I have to stop thinking about being produced and to concentrate on joining the community. To do any less is to fail miserably and I’m racing closer and closer to that point.
And I don’t have the excuse of Winter much longer.