« Home | he believed at once that she was beautiful because... » | he has not slept very much since wednesday, and no... » | ... the final upflare of stubborn and dying summer... » | He built four houses to keep his life. Three got a... » | why i love faulkner the sharp and brittle crack a... » | spacialk, dreaming of a better life » | I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed... » | a frigid wind was blowing in off lake erie, and ev... » | this blog was an accident of mouse clicks. but it'... » | francesco clemente, grisaille self portrait, 1998... » 

06 March 2006 

"that's why i like listening to schubert while i'm driving. like i said, it's because all the performances are imperfect. a dense, artistic kind of imperfection stimulates your consciousness, keeps you alert. if i listen to some utterly perfect performance of some utterly perfect piece while i'm driving, i might want to close my eyes and die right then and there. but listening to the d major, i can feel the limits of what humans are capable of - that a certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. and personally, i find that encouraging. do you know what i'm getting at?"

haruki murakami, kafka on the shore