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and yet we’re still forgiven

and yet we’re still forgiven

see what we have asked of this land:
juicing zea jabbing through
chapped flats

see what we have asked of her soldiers:
contentment,
submerged alone in nuggets of 
petrified human safetyglass

shower of obliterated abstracts;
white like love,
but no shards large enough to make out a face

The language here is some of the most insightful I’ve ever seen on the subject, if I’m interpreting…

The language here is some of the most insightful I’ve ever seen on the subject, if I’m interpreting effectively. (I could just be extrapolating.)

You cannot make a living as a “writer.” That is — the ability to effectively (or even extraordinarily) arrange words has no inherent value. It’s a good start, however, for some of the writing professions in which you can.

Journalist, copyrighter, editor, even poet or (now) blogger can be lucrative, technically. But you should never, ever launch into any of them expecting to profit in the near future. (For the latter three, probably near-not at all.)

I can’t think of a single notable author who considered fiction a money-making pursuit, and there’s reason for that: if you set out with the consideration of your audience required to write-for-profit, you’re going to end up with something generic and still unprofitable. And — if there is any objective ideal for a creative work — is it not originality?

Forgive my self-promotion, but I recently spent a good many words around this subject, sorta. (Keep in mind that they have no inherent value.)

E

It came to my attention today that my good friend Sonny Moore (commonly known as Skrillex) Tweeted “E” from his BlackBerry at 0732 CST on May 15th, 2010. If I’m ever given the opportunity to interview him, I’ll begin by questioning his choice in smartphones. (Can you imagine how awful the Twitter for BlackBerry client must’ve looked in 2010?)

From what I’ve sampled of his art, I’m confident he’s an emotionally intelligent man, and probably not house producer Joel Zimmerman (commonly known as Deadmau5.) The most arresting evidence supporting this supposition is hair. Sonny Moore is not house producer Joel Zimmerman. I could be wrong, of course, but that’d only mean that both Sonny Moore and house producer Joel Zimmerman possess a slightly above-average ability to slow time and examine us as we obliviously go about our lives in slow motion. It could even be possible that house producer Joel Zimmerman is examining my big ole' ears at this very moment in mild distaste. I guess I’d be able to hear him if he scoffed, but I think it would be down-pitched and extraordinarily terrifying.

Considering, allow me to tangent shortly and ask house producer Joel Zimmerman to keep any newfound otorhinolaryngological judgments to himself, if at all possible. If you must speak, Mr. Joel Zimmerman, please try your best not to frighten me.

Lots of individuals in my circles frequently chide Skrillex about his alleged misunderstanding of corporeality. While it is true that he’s been known to occasionally forgo performing at events in favor of desperately demanding answers from his audience to questions like “how big am I?” “how are we able to breathe in here?” and “who is the whispering lady who turns off the sun?!” I don’t think he is befit of such a reputation. In fact, I think Skrillex’s ability to make his irresistible clanking is one we should all aspire to hone. While we are kept on edge sometimes by the day-to-day stresses of contemporary life, Skrillex is able to clank them away and see the world from the broadest, slowest perspective - as a demigod.