"If you want to move someone else as an artist, you must be truly moved by what it is you're writing. But you must keep exploiting that emotion in yourself, over and over and over again, until you become completely cold about it." - Truman Capote
Just be careful not to freeze, Truman. Is that the lesson? Sometimes love doesn't mean what it's supposed to. I feel cold today. Maybe I will go to the gym and contemplate better bodies, run the wheel like a good pet and finally submit myself for rejection, yet again. What was the point of it all? Oh, yeah, we wanted to be puppetmasters. We thought it would be cool to have these great, elaborately constructed toys to play with. Control. Corrupt. Consider. I have been careless in the past, but it's not going to stop me from fucking up the future. I don't need very much to get by. I don't need anything at all... It's just this damn air I keep breathing and the sweet smell of humility. Don't you want me, baby?
I am good at exploiting many things. I am not sure that my own emotions fall under the banner of "many things." How can I pretend to understand something that I cannot name? The body had no identifying marks, no tell-tale signs of personal history or DNA to be decoded. It was simply cold. Still life and such. No... I am not a marksman for the ages. I am only here forever, this short time... And I knew, going in, that it wasn't going to be pretty. It was that challenge, in and of itself, that provoked me into action. Reaction. Retraction. Realization. Could it have been different if I had lied? Or at least told a better truth? More bitter blues from the peanut gallery, and black is the new black. Cold is the new season. Love is the new death. This is the new me.
Forget it then, pretend I never said anything. Exploit this, if you must, but know in your heart, that this is all my fault. Yeah, I have a flair for drama, but you need to break my heart to really appreciate the depths of my talents. I left them weeping in Tucson, because, in the end, it was simply too fucking hot there and I have always relied on the temperature to tell me my mood. Tell me, is it raining with you?
5 comments:
It's snowing with me but only flurries, talk about uninvited. Cold is one of my favourite Annie Lennox songs.
I like it when you blaxploit yourself Saviour. Perhaps I'm just being selfish.
To read is to devour. I trust you are self-regenerating: I have read this post several times now, just to keep warm. Truman had a lot to say, but only Harper knew when to come in from the cold. I am still not certain what you've said, but you've said it beautifully.
I am self-regenerating and selfish, so it's all good. I am never certain what I've said either and maybe that is for the best.
I stole your post title (Cold) for one of mine. Hope you don't mind. If you do, bury me on the dark side of your brilliance.
"...I have a flair for drama, but you need to break my heart to really appreciate the depths of my talents."
Must be a dazzling downpour in which to be doused.
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