my friend has this theory that you find your brilliance at those moments when you feel you have nothing to say... those times of quietude, when you find yourself, amazingly, unpossessed of the need to rage, to cry, to sing... just simply & blessedly still. quiet. @ peace. i once saw this book (written by another amy - probably why i picked it up in the first place) where this woman merely chronicled the day-to-day goings-on of her ordinary life.. kids to school, baking cookies, that sort of thing...and i thought.. what is the f-ing point?! who cares?
but,on second thought, maybe that - is just it. the role of the artist is not so much to live a rarified & quixotic existence - occasionally touching down on terra firma to report upon their outrageous goings-on, but perhaps merely just to immerse themselves in the ordinary fabric of the day-to-day, and by virtue of their own attentive eye & heart & grit... and find for themselves, amongst this most quiet little landscape... the thread of the extraordinary...
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