Attachments

It’s funny living here in Korea during these tumultuous times in the U. S.  When I went to the home page of this website to log in to this new blog, I was jarred by the sight of several blocks of black lines, each one bearing the legend:  CENSORED.  Luckily, I didn’t panic, as I’d read headlines on Alternet and Truthdig announcing that thousands of websites had gone off-line in defiance of a new law that may make free Internet access a thing of the past, at least in the United States.  Considering how tough times are getting, it wouldn’t surprise me if the law passed.  Before you know it, we’ll have to start paying to donate piss to public toilets, the way they do in Europe.

I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself because I’m still licking my wounds after having lost about forty pages of writing I foolishly failed to back up at another blog.  There’s something richly absurd about the creative process sometimes.  As a professor of mine once said, the process is more important than the product.  Still, it’s hard not to get attached to one’s own creations, no matter how mediocre or even downright lousy they may be.

Years ago, an art major at Kenyon College named Joel Fisher presented as his final project a pile of ashes.  Not that he was a heavy smoker, or a bum too lazy to do the work who scooped out a fireplace instead.  No, he’d deliberately worked hard on creating painstaking works of art, objects of beauty breathtaking to either the naked or fully-clothed eye, then deliberately destroyed them to emphasize the point made by the professor alluded to in the previous paragraph.

I wish I could have the same level of detachment about the excretions of my own ego.  The fact that I don’t fills me with self-doubt, the hallmark of the hack.  But that’s cool.  As a westerner brought up on TV, the Bay City Rollers, and space food sticks, I probably have nothing of import to say anyway; nor do I have the authenticity to become anything but a fraudulent Buddhist monk, not the genuine article.

Letting go can be the hardest thing of all to do, even when you’re at the end of your rope.

 

 

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