Saturday, December 13, 2014

The Art of Daily Life.


Right now I am reading a strange little collection of what can only generously be described as “stories”. The collection is called Degenerative Prose and it takes its cues from the “Avant-Pop” movement which apparently was a thing back when it looked like the rise of the internet was going to make the world into a peace-loving intellectual commune of anarcho-hippie. Little did they know back then that the internet was really just going to be the most effective means of distributing cat videos and porn that mankind has ever devised.  

At this moment I am reading something like an “essay” by a woman calling herself “Eurudice” and I just came to this passage which I really enjoy:

There is no greater art than the art of daily life. The talent for living well is the most substantial; so I try to fashion my life as I would create a text, driven by sheer desire and imagination, with no regard to rules, limits or fears, feasting on this bottomless world.

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Desultory.




Last night I worked until midnight in a part of the college library where I don’t normally work. It was a strange and quiet and desultory experience. I kept my four Twitter followers up-to-date on it in real time. Below are my notes. And below those is a picture of what it looked like as I walked to work.

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