Subject: getting better every day
From: Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Date: Tue Nov 27 2001 - 12:28:56 GMT
It’s quite a while now since I looked at Pinocchio
– rather more than sixty years I should imagine.
But what I took from it, even then, was that Conscience
was no more than a grotesque hopper with an umbrella
whose precepts could be safely ignored – unless one
wished to end up as the object of sentimental cooings
by motherly figures drooling over the darling feather
in one’s cap. A corrupted view that has remained with me
ever since.
Mustn't shackle you, though, with the only worst
practitioners. What moral enlightenment am I
to draw from the more prestigious ones?
I love Cezanne; is it he informs my living with balance
& order? And does Picasso do me a similar good?
I suspect not. Wagner turns me on in a big way; does
that explain the Nazi regalia hidden in my wardrobe?
Does Tchiakovsky teach that homosexuality is the way
of true sensitivity? Maybe, darling. Was it Aeschylus
finally persuaded me Not To Get Into Bed With Mother?
What do Schubert’s quartets or Hemingway’s stories
offer other than the simple enjoyment in their existence?
Must I lumber them with all these drearily edifying
undertones?
Onward & upward, eh, Jim?
Include me out.
Scotttie B.
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