Subject: Re: bands of brothers
From: Cecilia Baader (ceciliabaader@yahoo.com)
Date: Fri Jul 05 2002 - 22:58:55 EDT
> OK, another bucket of cold water from You-Know-Who.
Don't worry; I was expecting it. As the President
and Chief Executive of Anti-Pollution, Inc., you'd
have been neglecting the company charter if you hadn't,
Old Sport. I mean, think of the ramifications.
The board might have voted you out, and then we'd
be stuck with a paler, less interesting version
of you.
> The only thing ever worth writing is a masterpiece.
Indeed. But as masterpieces are a long time in coming,
is it any wonder that the huddled masses yearning to
breathe brie (writers tend to be a cheese-loving lot)
need the eyes of their fellow cheesemakers to give them
a kick in the cambronne when they need it?
> And I'm afraid the people who write them are driven on
> by forces far stronger than the encouragement of their peers
> - offered, in the main, out of courtesy & the hope of reciprocal
> praise. Nor will they be deterred by criticism from the same
> source - prompted, usually, more by envy than appreciation.
Cripes. Sometimes you're so right, I could just kick you.
> I know the 'little magazines' feature in the biographies of some
> great artists. But for every Querschnitt there were a million
> 'New Poetrys' or 'New Writings' or 'Wafflings'.
> And on each page of contents, for every Pound or Hemingway,
> were twenty million Jack Whosits & Susan Whatshies -
> their bones long since whitened in the deserts of time.
Ah, but there's the rub. Only one in a kabillion achieves
immortality. And that's only immortality in the current
age. As time goes by, even that disappears.
In the end, there's only one to represent it all.
Homer. Shakespeare. Hemingway? I don't know about even
that. So, all you're ever doing is shoveling against
the tide. Sooner or later, you're going to go the way
of the rest of them whose fifteen minutes were only five.
So what is the point, then? A masterpiece?
Even a masterpiece goes the way of the rest of it
after enough time passes. No, the point of it is the
making of it. And one can do that alone just as well
as one could do with a passel of cheddar-loving friends.
Regards,
Cecilia.
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