Why write?
And to what purpose?
If the god idea is on the outside of the known universe
Then a creator is on the outside
Of their structure of work…
Or the structures of society…
There are no sharp edges
No walls
No ceilings
You can create whatever you want
But why…
There is a feeling –
And like most things- it’s lonely and likely,likely, a minuscule group and not the reality…
But there is a feeling at least for myself…
That it’s an Instagram society
And we must purchase
Exchange something from ourselves
To attain something – a special key – to unlock ourselves ….
But I don’t think we are a puzzle …
With pieces scattered throughout the universe …
We are whole…
Right now…
And there is a feeling- a pressure- that it must be
Insightful
Inspiring
And useful
——
Again…
Imposter syndrome is likely my culprit here…
If architects build structures
And landscapers lay foundations
And gardeners set tables
Artists
Are the emotions
The colours
The sensations
The memory
For society
Imagination is so important
It’s doesn’t even have to be good or great
Just show up
Even if you sit there 250 days in a row and don’t build anything
But on the 251st day
You do
You’re an artist in and out of season
You matter
——
The older I get
The less I am impressed with people
headlines (they sell stories)
There’s nothing new under the sun
We gripe on our parents
Our children will gripe on us…
We feel important and like we are doing a great work
but we all will grow old and slowly fade into the corners of rooms
Possibly becoming punchlines, ignored and suddenly we will understand how our parents possibly felt
And
There is nothing new under the sun
It’s so easy to just fall in line and be an echo
I could write about how lovely my wife was until we divorced and then it would be so easy to say she failed in the marriage and crucify her…
And most people would be ok with that
It’s easy to occupy an established place until you step out of or over a perceived line and then you become a punchline or headline and are reminded of your place
There was a writer from the Middle East
She wrote me once and asked me to keep writing …
I read her work
And all of her writing was about losing friends in school
And bombings
And religions
I thought what it must be like
To be surrounded by religions
And people selling you something all the time
Maybe we are just another echo when we pray…
I have doubts
Like a flood
But I think about her a lot
And I – I believe in art
And so I ask
Why write?
To build
Brick by brick
Forget about what you think you know
About headlines
About social media
everything is marketing and nothing is as it seems
So …again…
What are you saying and why are you saying it?
Who are you saying it to?
Why do you want to say it?
What happens next?
——
– E
Regarding Samuel 