[b]Nick Cave
The rock star is dying. And it’s a small tragedy. Rock stars have blogs now. I have no use for that kind of rock star. [/b]
Are there still rock stars around? I thought the last one was Bruce Springsteen.
Most people wait for the muse to turn up. That’s terribly unreliable. I have to sit down and pursue the muse by attempting to work.
How exactly would a muse show up?
Music is storming, driving, relentless, devotional, slinky, subtle, heartbreakingly-beautiful sounds that, lyrically, switch from the cynical to the sanguine, the defeated to the defiant, dealing in love, war, beauty, children, romance, rejection, Pethedine, poetry, panties, God, Auden, Johnny Cash, cold potatoes, too-much-money, not enough money, writer’s block, flowers, animals and more flowers. But maybe I’m projecting here.
Or just making it up as he goes along.
You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan.
And he doesn’t even exist.
If I’m hanging around too much, my wife and kids say, ‘Hey, why don’t you go downstairs and start a new novel?’
Sounds like paradise to some of us.
I’ve never been interested in being relevant.
Of course they all say that.