Friday, January 13, 2012

Pieces parts, or, where's the beef?


















This has nothing to do with this post (not really), but, looken sie hier, snow!

A painter gazes at his/her/its [ed. note: too many of you conveniently leave out the denizens of hollow earth, feel shame for your ism] work, grimaces, then relentlessly daubs like a giant, radioactive paper wasp over the mistakes, stroke over knife-edge over stroke, pleased with this fortress of tint in miniature. Or scraping it away, the righteous judgment of the gods, or the Borg, channeled through one unworthy, on a thing unworthy.

With the written, once it's molted & is ready to provocatively display itself, it appears flat -- just like the feeling after reading it, badoomboom. I can don my imaginary top hat & flâneur my way through a museum & nudge (relatively) close, seeing the topographical scansion in gobs of oily or plastic goo. Par ailleurs, the text is flat ink on a flat sheet (usually) or electricity on a screen (also usually). But I see, always, the detritus of the crossed-out, the arrows to the replacement, arrows from that to the return of the murdered word, the game invisibly played out whilst typing because the visible is Finished, the Great Deceiver.

So, rereading, rehashing, delving, digging, thieving, an archaeology of expression in order to express the inexpressible, which is not so because it's the key to the pyramids or long lost esoterica; the most common sentiments are the most uncommonly difficult. All this crap isn't new to you, I'm simply tired of being unable to throw the same piece in a six-foot hole & run away, but since I've yet to find a shotgun to kill this zombie dead, on the board we stay.

13 comments:

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Snow place like home, eh?

I wonder if Manilow has a song about this...
~

Life As I Know It Now said...

Yet you manage to so creatively express your disgust Randal so in that you are successful, yes?

Karl Franz Ochstradt said...

Clara Peller's legacy is snow? She was much wiser than I thought!

Randal Graves said...

if, that's two strikes.

life, since I'm still obsessing over the same piece, certainly not. I suppose in order to conserve electrons, I simply could have typed FUCK THIS SHIT.

karl of the österreich, airborne toxins give the patties their rich flavor.

MRMacrum said...

Go with the medium you know I always say. Of course in your case, I sometimes wonder what the medium is. Face facts Randal, you do like us hanging around, dontcha?

Demeur said...

How difficult it is to string bait for that's all this is you know. Make it pretty make it ugly and cast it out there for all to comment. How many comments did you catch today? Sadly the bait starts to rot and is relegated to the archive post # 8 of January 2012. And like yesterday's news never to be seen again. Let's face it Shakespeare we ain't.

okjimm said...

What? //Let's face it Shakespeare we ain't. //

ppffffftttt.... I am easily twice as brilliant....it is only that I am the only one who agrees with me that's holding me back!

Randal Graves said...

mrmacrum, as
always, 'tis a medium
I rarely post in

demeur, you're all chum, nothing but chum & hell, we're not even the Earl of Sandwich.

okjimm, the bard didn't get good until he stopped drinking all that beer.

Beach Bum said...

righteous judgment of the gods, or the Borg

I'd be more fearful of the Borg than some scrawny group of decadent gods. The Borg give me bad dreams and resistance is futile, everyone will be assimilated.

susan said...

If I ever manage to paint my masterpiece I'll have to throw all the paints and brushes away. Then what would I do? No matter the medium we're always our own worst critics.

Demeur said...

Bum we're all part of the Borg it's just that the Earl of Graves here documents the human condition so well. No loopholes here. We all end up worm food and a distant memory.

Randal Graves said...

BB, and I don't trust Species 8472 as far as I can throw them.

susan, then I hope you never paint your masterpiece, & that you find a rich patron so you can finally release a swanky coffee table book of your stuff.

demeur, I love when others are as miserable as I, makes me so happy.

Tom Harper said...

Speaking of Shakespeare, wasn't he improperly credited for plays written by other people? I read that somewhere. I guess we'll never know.