All revolutions are aesthetic… Taste is power, and power is politics… So taste has enormous power to shape history. If it makes your scalp tingle, it’s art. “Bad taste is real taste, and good taste is just the residue of someone else’s privilege.” Jazz exemplifies the possibly doomed experiment of being totally free, with…
Someone who knows me well took me to task this week on account of my contempt for capitalism. His complaint paraphrased, – “Do you mean to say the guy operating the corner grocery down the street is an avaricious, exploiting….etc.” He and I were not in a situation to discuss the matter at length,…
Writing about the death of someone I did not know, I took a short walk in the snowfall to think. There’s a purity about snow. I remembered white symbolizes death in Japan. Purity is erasure, a blank slate. Death is erasure of the filigreed world, that Baroque montage of shape, color and sound, the…
Some additional thoughts on capitalism… I remember a time when capitalism did not seem so rapacious, as destructive in its general effect upon the social circle within my awareness. Perhaps as a young adult in my twenties, I was simply ignorant, blind to suffering of others, particularly citizens of color. Yes, I was ignorant…
Yesterday I noticed this sign while stopping at a Starbucks. I felt excited at the “sign” of sanity, a public display of reason in a time of covid. Why in the name of humanity should we sacrifice lives, and “sacrifice” is the only word to use. What of this childish desire to assert “freedom”…
We spent part of the afternoon at one of the national booksellers, perusing the shelves. Not that I “need” another book. A bookstore is always an agreeable place, and especially on a chill winter’s day. I spent some time examining the display of new fiction hardcover books. A thought came to mind. A…
I took a walk yesterday. A gray day, mid-January with a brisk breeze and thirty degrees. I walked 3rd Street in Geneva, the mind stimulated by visual and tactile sensation, — as I passed by restaurants “coming to life” in early afternoon. Reaching State Street, intending to purchase another cup of coffee from the…
The discussion touching on Platonic idealism was fascinating. Who is not captivated by an ideal, gleaming in transparent purity? I certainly am. Would I kill for an ideal? Or to put it more plainly would I commit murder to advance an ideal? I probably would, as many have. I am admittedly a standard issue…
I just finished reading The Phaedo written by Plato. The Phaedo, is a story that receives its title from the name of a friend of Socrates who is observer and auditor of the last hours of Socrates’ life. The last hours are spent in philosophical exchange with a circle of friends. Plato, a playwright…
On fire, the world was always on fire. It just depends on where you live. Can you smell smoke? See flames? Some of us run for our lives. And there’s a time when running is impossible, there is nowhere to run to. I tire of thinking about politics, which has become a reflex, —…
