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night soundtrack:
ben folds five s/t, the weakerthans fallow, nick drake 5 leaves left, chet baker with strings

watched almost famous director edition in about three different sittings tonight--kept getting interrupted by life and napping. . .serious stuff. . .the thing that always strikes me about that movie is phillip seymour hoffman's Lester Bangs. there is that scene near the end of the movie where Lester is talking about how the best art is made by people who are not cool, how art made by pretty boys would be fleeting in its resonance. there is this overwhelming honesty and sense of longing that takes the wind out of me everytime i watch it. chances are, as the night gets later, i'll go all emo over these moments and just watch it repeatedly. when lester says "of course i'm home, i'm not cool," it's with such verve--a humour that tries to soften his loneliness. instead, it just underscores the truth. honesty shared by uncool people in the unraveling flags of night. . .

when i think about writing i am sure that it is lonely but it is solitary. the loneliness i feel has nothing to do with the act of creating but more to do with my own personal core. i am used to being alone--only child born in the middle of nowhere--and my sense of lonely shifts from day to day. i write to connect--sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. does great work come from loneliness? i think once you begin to think about "being lonely" and how it relates to what you are saying then it becomes an artificial environment--a pretension--some artsy stereotype.
i don't know. . .just a thought. if anyone really read this, maybe it would make sense-- this is just self-indulgent bullshit passed off as an attempt to connect.

more later