And this thought is somehow tied to my recent reading of Beethoven’s letters and conversations.

I think, I have a probable answer (though of course this is not the only one) to why musicians (and artists) can be blatantly gay in a good number. That is, a man has two choices in the course of his life: one, pursue his dream and passion; another, be the “realistic and practical”, make a good living and support his family (wife, children, etc). Of course, it would the “ideal” if he could do both successfully and whole-heartedly, but sometimes they collide – not only that, to settled for the latter would be a shame and betrayal on the former. And so, we have some great musicians/artists who have chosen the pursuit of their art, without the ability to support (financially) a family.  And perhaps this is their destiny, a great challenge and gift God has bestowed upon these men. At the same time, when a man and a woman gets involved in a relationship, it is not easy to let it not lead anywhere serious (afterall, a man and a woman are to marry). And perhaps, homosexuality becomes an unconscious choice and one of the natural inclinations.

And this concludes my thought.

On a somewhat disjointed note..

Dear Marie, dear Bigot,

With the deepest regret I observe that the purest, most innocent of feelings can often be misinterpreted. Affectionately as you have received me in the past, it never occurred to me to assume anything other than that you were honouring me with your friendship. You must think me very vain and very petty if you suppose that the favourable disposition of even so excellent a person as you are would cause me to conclude at once that I have won her love. Besides, it is one of my first principles never to maintain a relationship other than one of friendship with another man’s wife.

…

Ludwig van Beethoven

When a German says it, I tend to believe.

从家到学校的路上，有一个公园。

深秋，我偶尔会在路上碰到一个中国老伯，骑着自行车绕着公园 – 一圈，两圈，三圈…

转眼，树上的叶子快落齐了。

没有太阳的白天
没有寒意的秋风

我望不到去年的这个时间,
淅沥的秋雨打在地上,
我们淋在古老建筑的身旁，
似湿非湿地

湖和海就在看不见的眼前。

心是灰色的,没有未来,

一顿吃在下午的早餐

身体和脚都是冷的

随着这些落叶，我望不到去年了。

Riverside, NYC. On a late afternoon by the Riverside.

Trip was good. Just a suggestion for anybody traveling to Newark airport form Manhattan, it is good to take the coach USA airport express. It’s easy and fast, relatively on time as well.

So, I’ve finally uploaded the many photos I’ve taken since end of Sept., throughout the course next few days, photos will start to appear. I get very excited editing these.

Taxi at Lincoln Centre, NYC.

Try the fabulous online photo editor at Picnik.com.

Sometimes, we are so touched by art for art’s sake, by the exquisite craftsmanship of art itself, and we may in turn agree with the moral or philosophical views of the context – if there is one.

But what is art supposed to do? What is art supposed to say?

As a performer, are we to make choice of what work we want to take on? If so, do we base it on the artistic value, or its contextual value, or something else?

—-

Yesterday I glanced outside the window of our living room, which faces the Hudson River on Riverside Drive. The trees have become much more barren.

For beauty, Phaedrus, mark me, beauty alone is both divine and visible at once; and thus it is the road of the sensuous; it is, little Phaedrus, the road of the artist to the spiritual. But do you now believe, my dear, that they can ever attain wisdom and true human dignity for whom the road tot he spiritual leads through the senses? Or do you believe rather (I leave the choice to you) that this s a pleasant but perilous road, a really wrong and sinful road, which necessarily leads astray? For you must know that we poets cannot take the road of beauty without having Eros join us and set himself up as our leader. Indeed, we may even be heroes after our fashion, and hardened warriors, through we be like women, for passion is our exaltation, and our desire must remain love – that is our pleasure and our disgrace. You now see, do you not, that we poets cannot be wise and dignified? That we necessarily go astray, necessarily remain lascivious, and adventurers in emotion? The mastery of our style is all lies and foolishness, our renown and honor the training of the public and of youth through art is a precarious undertaking which should be forbidden. For how, indeed, could he be a fit instructor who is born with a natural leaning towards the precipice? We might well disavow it and reach after dignity, but wherever we turn it attracts us. Let us, say, renounce the dissolvent of knowledge, since knowledge, Phaedrus, has no dignity or strength. It is aware, it understands and pardons, but without reserve and form. It feels sympathy with the precipice, it IS the precipice. This then, we abandon with firmness, and from now on our efforts matter only by their yield of beauty, or, in other words, simplicity, greatness, and new rigor, form, and a second type of openness. But form and openness, Phaedrus, lead to intoxication and to desire, lead the noble perhaps into sinister revels of emotion which his own beautiful rigor rejects as infamous, lead to the precipice – yes, they too lead to the precipice. They lead us pots there, I say, since we cannot force ourselves,since we can merely let ourselves out. And now I am going, Phaedrus. You stay here; and when you no longer see me, then you go too.

- from Death in Venice by Thomas Mann

Once in my teenage years I have experienced and agreed with this profoundly. It is a dangerous, exciting, sinful road, an it will consume one without a trace.

Perhaps this is what some embrace wholeheartedly- and live for.

In my twenties now, reading this, I am seeing myself. To fully comment and understand this passage I will need to read way more (ie Plato), but it is here to be recorded.

——–

There’s an urge inside everybody that wants to destroy beauty. To possess, to make impure and imperfect, and take delight and pride in the ownership of such actions.

It makes me shiver.