With Roland Howard’s death, and reanimation technology still in it’s infant stages, the chances of a Birthday Party reunion are depressingly low. Luckily the next best thing, a new Grinderman record, will soon be upon us. To celebrate, let us bask in the glory of one of Nick Cave’s earlier attempts to be the Stooges, with ear-shattering results.
so i was at the art institute. looking at art. it became totally clear to me how little i really care. it’s all impermanent. i mean, i might dig this picasso, that rauschenberg… whatever.
i don’t really care. i mean… all of these people have definitely influenced me, but they’re all museum pieces. in a cold, lifeless place. with art-gestapo guards hanging over your head. i look at the pieces. trying to come away with something.
….that’s pretty cool…. picasso painted over that image underneath. interested more in how gerhard richter feathers the edges of his strokes.
it’s all just a kind of education, i suppose. though sometimes i feel like i’m falling into some sort of abyss. as if the pointlessness of it all could drown me.
it is like being in a dark room only to have flood
lights illuminate the world. some are paralyzed by its brilliance and close their eyes to escape the pain. it's alright to close your eyes, but some never open them again. with your eyes open, the world becomes focused. not because the world has changed, but because one's eyes have adjusted.
sometimes, after the eyes have adjusted, there is a lust for the lost brilliance. however, the light shines as brightly as it always has. one just needs to see with new eyes.