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Are You a Writer or an Artist?

September 13, 2020

Most fiction writers would like to think of themselves as artists. To be an author is to be an artist, right? Well, no; not necessarily. The question “are you a writer or an artist” might corner some of you. Perhaps you resist it.

“Surely”, you might say, “one can be both a writer and an artist”. Again, the answer is no, not necessarily. And mind you, I don’t mean that you might be writing nonfiction.

There are untold numbers of fiction writers out there who think they’re artists. Remember that short-lived meme that began with a statement – let’s take “I’m a writer” as our example – then continued with a series of photos, captioned like “What my mom thinks I do”, “What my friends think I do”?

writer or artist
Art, expression, narrative, affect… These are very different concepts

It then ended with “What I really do”. And here’s where the problem lies. What you really do is often in conflict with what you think you do.

If you feel brave enough to discover something about you as a writer (or an artist) – self-delusion is a viable strategy for some people – by all means, read on.

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Byron’s “Prometheus” and Existential Empowerment

April 18, 2020

Lord Byron’s “Prometheus” is one of my favorite poems. Once, in a discussion about poetry, someone asked me why. I impulsively replied: “Because ‘Prometheus’ teaches you about not giving a fuck”.

Needless to say, the discussion became lively and several arguments and counter-arguments followed – all polite and civilized, which is rare these days.

I was asked to explain myself. I did. And I decided to transfer the conclusions from that discussion here.

Byron's Prometheus
Byron’s “Prometheus” tells us it’s our very mortality what makes us powerful
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Why Friends Disappear (and why It’s not a Bad Thing)

February 1, 2020

Why friends disappear might sound like a social topic. And yet, as you can see, I’ve chosen “Experiencing” as the post category. The reason is that this post is, like every other, entirely selfish.

Don’t get me wrong; if you can find answers to your questions, I’m happy. But first and foremost, this post is a stream-of-consciousness-like effort (not unlike recalling almond trees or Greek coffee) to find answers to my own questions.

Yes, my friends have disappeared. Others have reappeared. Then they, too, disappeared. Years pass, friends come, friends go. I’m definitely not a good example for friendships lasting a lifetime.

You might be tempted to think that I’m the common denominator, hence, I must be part of the reason. You wouldn’t be wrong to think that, but not for the reasons you might expect.

Yes, my friends have disappeared, and I’m the focal point of my friends that disappear. But so is something else: space-time. Blame my academic research interests, but it’s hard for me not to put everything in a space-time box. Humans are temporal beings.

Why friends disappear
Why friends disappear is a simple repercussion of our lives, which are bound in space-time.
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