The Artist
I remember the first time that I ever
Wrote a poem. God, I cringe when I think back
I immediately thought about changing
My glasses to horn rims and sewing
Leather elbow patches onto my coat
I really wanted to be the stereotypical WRITER
I walked around with a cynical eye
I was detached from the plodding herd
For here was an Artist!
What a bloody fool!
What sheer arrogance!
I'm not like that anymore
Honestly, I'm not
Well I fucking hope not!
I remember the first time that I ever
Wrote a poem. God, I cringe when I think back
I immediately thought about changing
My glasses to horn rims and sewing
Leather elbow patches onto my coat
I really wanted to be the stereotypical WRITER
I walked around with a cynical eye
I was detached from the plodding herd
For here was an Artist!
What a bloody fool!
What sheer arrogance!
I'm not like that anymore
Honestly, I'm not
Well I fucking hope not!
In 1944 Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play "Huis Clos" (No Exit). Joseph Garcin, Estelle Rigault, and Inès Serrano are trapped in Hell, which is just a room occupied by just the 3 of them. Inès is attracted to Estelle, and Estelle is attracted to Joseph, but Joseph is not attracted to either of them.
ReplyDeleteAfter confessing their sins to each other, and failing to escape or commit suicide, they finally understand the nature of their damnation: “I'm looking at this thing on the
mantelpiece, and I understand that I'm in hell. I tell you, everything's been thought out beforehand. They knew I'd stand at the fireplace stroking this thing of bronze, with all those eyes intent on me. Devouring me. What? Only two of you? I thought there were more; many more. So this is hell. I’d never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the 'burning marl.' Old wives’ tales! There’s no need for red-hot pokers. HELL IS -- OTHER PEOPLE!” Sartre later explained that he did not mean "that our relations with other people are always poisoned, that they are invariably hellish relations. But what I really mean is something totally different. I mean that if relations with someone else are twisted, vitiated, then that other person can only be hell. Why? Because ... when we think about ourselves, when we try to know ourselves ... we use the knowledge of us which other people already have. We judge ourselves with the means other people have and have given us for judging ourselves."