philosophie.

on clutter and jargon

William Zinsser in “On Writing Well” (brilliant book btw!): “Clutter is the ponderous euphemism that turns a slum into a depressed socioeconomic area, a salesman into a marketing representative, a dumb kid into an underachiever and garbage collectors into waste disposal personnel.” and an accompanist into collaborative pianist, piano tuner into piano technician, toy piano player into professional toy-pianist?! (and I say this with full respect to the first two)

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Same book:

“I see that Detroit is downsizing its cars but still hoping to attract upscale customers. (Small Cadillacs for rich people.) It’s part of an ongoing effort to save energy. All efforts in America today are “ongoing.” So are all programs and investigations. So, in fact, are all people and all forms of life; when we cease to be ongoing we are dead. “Ongoing” is a jargon word that is wholly unnecessary except to raise morale. We face our daily job with more zest if the boss reminds us that it’s an ongoing project; we give more willingly to institutions if they have targeted our funds for ongoing improvements.”

too jarring for a title

A thought came to my mind today, when Horowitz’ famous remark on the categorizing of pianists: “Jewish, gay, bad” kept jumping to my eyes everywhere lately.

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.

Schubert

Schubert’s “Diaries”

“Where other people keep diaries in which they record their momentary feelings, etc, Schubert simply kept sheets of music by him and confided his changing moods to them; and his soul being steeped in music, he put down notes when another man would resort to words.”

– Robert Schumann, letter to to Friedrich Wieck, 1829

My heart sings praise to You

Today, I woke up with such joy!

For the first time in a long time, I felt excited about the day ahead of me. (not that there’s anything special going on today.) I am so thankful for being where I am, with whoever I met, doing what I love. So thankful for being alive, healthy, loved.

All because of this enormous force, being, God who lives, and lives with me every day of my life.

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God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain, rocky and steep,
Never a river, turbid and deep.

But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

Thomas Mann

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.