I gotta say, suddenly I like Mick Jagger a bunch more than I ever did before.
"It is not correspondingly apprehended that he replaced the heroin comprehensively with liquor."
Damn, that's a fine and arresting sentence. That's craft. Even if it's Bill Wyman (no, the other one) impersonating Mick Jagger.
And I know just what he means, in the end, about the terror that your best work is behind you. If ever an artist didn't suffer from that one, I never heard from 'em--unless that artist suffers from the fear that she will never create anything marvellous, and never has.
Some of us get both. And the angst is not lessened at all by the understanding that this driving force in our lives is essentially ephemeral and probably of as much lasting impact as a hot fudge sundae. But then, maybe I'm wrong. Because art is not just a first world problem. Art is not something that stops when you don't have enough to eat. (I've been there.)
Art may in some ways be a primary function of the human psyche. And that, right there--if anything comes close to making me believe in the divine, the immanent, the ineffable--that would be it. That people who have been dead for a thousand years still have the power to offer us, today, comfort and insight and grace. That humans on the other side of the world have the power to reach out and explain themselves to anyone who will pause and listen.
That's kind of something. If anything is anything at all.
*via rezendi's twitter feed