J. Jeff Jones updates Ginsberg's Howl poem in The Savoy Book, published in 1978. Once upon a time I also began a poem with the line 'I saw the best minds of my generation' but have no memory of the rest of it. No, no - that's wrong - I remember nothing. What I have is a recording of the performance, which I haven't played for years. But I remember my voice trails off in a possibly drunken slur after 'generation'.
Success could not destroy me. I never give it the chance. Not that you decide to be successful. Successful at what though?
A practical apprenticeship?
Novel writing?
Mass homicide?
There's so much to be successful at.
Yet.
Yet.
Do you ever wonder, seeing someone in the street, if they've succeeded in anything? Creating a baby, perhaps.
Or earning lots of money.
And on and on and on.
The Savoy Book is very good. It has an interview with Brian Aldiss, fiction by Harlan Ellison and M. J Harrison, great illustrations etc.
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| RTomens, 2024 |
The other day I thought 'I really should describe what people are seeing' when I post art because...you know...it's wrong of me to assume that it's clear or that they can work it out for themselves. Nothing's clear or obvious, necessarily, in a world where AI exists. As you know, AI can create anything (except good cakes? cups of tea? I dunno). By what people are seeing I mean what it's made of and how it's made, perhaps...what's know as the 'medium' in the Fine Arse world. Or media? The process?
For the record. So you know. So you know it's not something I made by feeding information into software. Mechanised? consists of a printed background and altered photo of a dubious character's mugshot which I typed onto. That's it.
TTFN
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