Old School

Back when I was in school a degree meant something, you could translate Latin, you could talk coherently, you could defend an argument, write a paper about almost anything. Now you can graduate with the sure knowledge that you know how to sign your name. Fashions change. The length of skirts is somehow tied to the economy. I awoke in a fret. Something I was forgetting. The house was cold so I pulled on a sweatshirt, heated some chicken stock and spiked it with a shot of whiskey. What was it? Something to do with Plato banishing the artists. It's a disconnect between art and business that bothers me. What I was saying earlier, about the mandate of a museum. I'm in this because of the art, installing Sara's show, busting my ass to create something. It has everything to do with beauty and the sublime, how, when I'm listening to the Bach Cello Suites I'm not thinking, just responding. D called, we were so comfortable back in the groove today, solving problems, after we had flown the Monkey Aviators, with a simple solution to a nagging problem. The final link, as far as I was concerned, yes, yes, yes, as Molly says. It all comes together. It's either late or early, depending on how you sleep, the bottom line is the level of your engagement. Sappho said "I don't expect to touch the sky with my two hands." Emily said, " Perhaps affection has always one question more which it forgot to ask." Basho, the final word:

Like nothing
it's been compared to:
the crescent moon.