Sometimes it is tempting. I mean as an aesthetic quality but also as something more than that. Dull fiction, dull rooms, dull company, dull weather, (long) dull poems. Dullness, a thudding word (a formal feeling). The world's edge is blunted in it & this is strangely seductive for a long, dull hour or two. One can yearn for it on occasion. Perhaps you must be scarred by a certain strain of volatility to have much stake in cultivating it, the bland honey of industrial bees, gray wads of cotton to stuff in the ears, filtered water, absolved of the mineral tang of local genius. One wants it--not passionately--but completely & suddenly one does not--
Current Music: |
Innergaze: We are Strange Loops |