It's Never Over

A while back I heard someone say that the fundamental greatness of art exists in the fact that once the artist creates it, he has absolutely no control over it, watching as it dances from person to person, all the while changing its very essence. The original phrasing was naturally more poetic, and I'm pretty sure that it's a famous quote or principle, but it's late - we all need excuses. Anyway, forgive me for the casual tone tonight. I suppose everyone needs a break from the pretenses and controls of everyday living (not that my usual writing is intentionally pretentious, or controlling of my every move, but you get the idea), and sometimes it's just nice to be able to sit back and chat with myself - in a completely normal way.

I'm never really sure who my readers are, nor was I at any point throughout the history of this site. There was, however, a time when I had a very healthy base of support spread nicely throughout the tri-state area. But negligence and laziness are as much a function of human life as is hunger and thirst. Generally, we aren't a people that burn bridges, more or less a people who just let them crumble over time. That was the case with this site. Here I am now, perhaps a year or more removed from my heyday, lowering myself to shameless plugs across the internet for new readers (all of whom seem to care less than I once did). It's that nice phrase atop this post that keeps me going, the idea that something I write can possibly mean something else to someone who actually took the time to read it. I'm not sure which is more flattering; the fact that my writing is somewhat understandable, or the fact that even one person takes the time to find that out.

Sometimes I fancy listening to the same song repeatedly for hours. No, I'm not dwelling in the dungeon I've created from what used to be my room, but while writing things of this nature, or doing whatever work I've put off for weeks, certain songs just beg to be heard - over and over and over. I guess that ties in with the concept of art that I mentioned above. I'm not sure what the artist had in mind when he wrote the song, or the thoughts that ran through his mind as he sang it, but for whatever reason, I can't seem to shake its clutches. Regardless of intention, there's a certain purity about the music that transcends original intention. The music is great because it's simply music - nothing more and certainly nothing less. It's both comforting and daunting to know that the same might be said for my writing (at least I strive for such paradox) in the sense that I write as purely as I possibly can. I make very little effort to sit here and plot out point-for-point what it is I want to say, I never have, but I certainly don't reveal the thoughts that prance around my mind while I'm in the middle of a piece. Well, in a certain sense I do, but only on the most obvious level. Like the singers of the songs that cut deeply, the only way to understand the essence is to relate to the nuance - the raw emotion (forgive me for ever mentioning raw emotion. I'll try not to let it happen again).

Nobody will ever really know exactly what I'm thinking, certainly not in the midst of my writing, yet that idea isn't nearly as depressing as it might sound. I want nothing more than to view my writing not as something people don't understand, but as something that rises above what it is I have to say and delves into the realm of what you believe it says. Naturally, I'm not short-changing the content of my writing, but I've always felt that content is only half the effect. If it's true that the simplest essence of art is its ability to transform and touch each person in very different ways, then it seems there are two roads I can travel.

I can either hope to say the right things at the right times, or trust myself enough to let the art speak for itself.