Calmly and dispassionately getting excited over nothing at all

April 24, 2008

Every time he told the truth his ears got bigger.

I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.

Franz Kafka

Intercourse with human beings seduces one to self- contemplation.

Franz Kafka

is updated on


For sale: everything that was in my pockets when I got home from the bar on Friday night (really Saturday morning) including a phone number that might be a girl's! Make me an offer. Box 11.
Lou Skidmore Productions is now auditioning people for Lou's new production tentatively called "Unsure". If you can play an instrument or have knowledge of Viennese history or once worked for a dentist Lou may want you. Or possibly not. Show up in the lobby of Artspace and find out. Time as yet to be determined. Best to just keep showing up.
Do you like raisins? If so then the Raisin Marketing Board may have a position for you testing raisins and raisin-based products. Box 3390876503.
This Saturday, Brad Runstan will perform excerpts from his performance piece "George Clooney: History's Greatest Monster or More or Less Okay?" at a sort of theatre in the round he built in his parents' backyard on Vialoux. Tickets $4 and $5.
SILENT FILM WITH LIVE MUSIC PERFORMANCE BY GARTH HARDY at Cinematheque April 25 & 26 - 7:00 PM; SUNRISE A SONG OF TWO HUMANS (1927) By F.W. Murnau; Tickets $ 12 gen / $10 student/senior / $8 members



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Slaving Away in Obscurity


hard at work


Many of us are familiar with the idea of the misunderstood genius slaving away in obscurity. this concept has been fleshed out in numerous books and movies but almost always in a wholly negative way. The misunderstood genius is portrayed as a tragic figure and his/her life is shown as a sad series of defeats. But this is only one side of the story. There is an upside to being an underappreciated creative type. In fact, it can be quite fun.

Yes, I know, Van Gogh killed himself. But that guy had a whole slough of problems (not the least of which was some sort of brain convulsions if I remember that Kirk Douglas movie correctly) and there's no reason to believe that if Van Gogh had been feted he would have been any happier. It's pretty hard to imagine Vincent enjoying the fruits of celebrity.

This brings me to the first thing that's great about obscurity - nobody bothers you. Just ask Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears if having your talent recognised and celebrated (from which we get the word "celebrity") is such a good deal.

The second thing that's good about toiling away in obscurity is the absence of pressure. If no one is familiar with anything you have done then where's the pressure to improve, to outdo oneself? You'll never hear "it's not as good as his first one" since no one is even aware that you did a "first one". The pressure's off. If you feel like spending a year in bed watching TV - go for it! Who cares if you do? No one.

The last good thing about being a misunderstood genius is that you are in firm possession of the high ground. You can safely poo-poo all successful work as "pandering" and take comfort (nay -revel) in the assertion that people obviously don't "get" your work. Obviously what you are doing is too subtle and complex to be commercially viable. And you are in some great company. Many posthumously famous artists wereonly famous after they died. Some might say all of them.

So draw yourself up to your full height and look the world directly in the eye (metaphorically). Be proud. Be happy. Do you feel that upsurge inside you? That's a smug sense of superiority. Nice isn't it?

Hugh Briss


Would you deny
                      the courage
                                       of a kid

                        on rollerblades


              a busy street
              (in front of a bus!)
                            while eating

a tinfoil



The evil
            comes out
            from behind
            the clouds
            once I
            return indoors.


Not a Shower

Thunder, no rain yet, just
            noise and the threat of rain.
            I hurry inside, coatless,
            fear the water wetting me
            in a way I don't like.



The sun
                goes down
                    (as we say-
            although it really

                it seems,
            the cold
                and dark


since 2005

well, really 2001 if you count the old paper PERSIFLAGE