Perfection

“At the end of the day no one really cares what you were doing, just what you’ve done.”

- Louis T. Wermann

Sometimes writing these words is a struggle. I wish that every column I wrote was a thing of beauty, a perfect gleaming gem of insight and illumination. This is the goal I set in my mind for myself every week when I sit down in front of my computer to write this down. Of course I fall short. Perfection is only a notion – maybe an illusion. The beauty of everything we do in this life comes from the act of doing.

The last two months have put me through the emotional grinder. My words have been stifled, stymied, twisted and stuck somewhere between my brain and my sphincter. Linguistic constipation but I write anyway because the act of putting these words down on this page are soothing to me and also because I have no choice. I write. It doesn’t have to be brilliant, it just has to be. And also because I have faith that the act of writing – of writing anything, good bad, indifferent, will continue the flow of language and while I may be writing in a smelly fly-infested bog right now it will eventually, the way liquid does, seep and flow downward to something different. Writing begets writing. This column is not a single week’s worth of words but instead a living breathing flowing stream of words and so I have come to accept that there will be rough patches and soft shoulders along the road. Mixed metaphors, bad puns – there is no law against bad writing. Thank god for that.

Goddamn the notion of perfection. How many concepts have never been allowed to grow into actuality because those who thought them up could not bear the notion of imperfection? They sat instead and thought of all the reasons it would not work, of all the ways they would fail, and so, by doing nothing but thinking, they failed to do anything at all. A dying man acts. We are all dying – all the time.

My favorite writers were not afraid to make terrible writing. I read a book of Charles Bukowski’s newspaper columns that constantly listed the results of horse races; boring statistical columns that meant nothing to someone who doesn’t know the difference between a parlay and a boxed trifecta. I’ve read Henry Miller’s second novel and I’m afraid to pick up his first. I can only imagine the over-blown self-important drivel that found its way into his waste-paper baskets.

If you are brave enough to act I guarantee that you will experience failures. Things will not turn out the way you envision them in your head and in your dreams. Sometimes you will be incredibly frustrated and sometimes your efforts will end in disaster.

The Kentucky Derby

Speaking of horse racing the Kentucky Derby was run this past weekend and it was a doozy. Street Sense came from 19th in a field of 20 to take the victory by several lengths and the Queen Mum was in attendance.

The Cammies

The Cammies were also held last weekend and I have to admit I was thoroughly impressed with the whole production. The CN&R along with the Senator staff managed to pull a logistical rabbit out of a hat. The show ran smoothly and the performances were solid. Congratulations to all the winners and a special tip of the hat to Katie Perry who won for “Local Badass” and Danny Cohen who stole off into the night with the “Best Local Songwriter” award. Both were well deserved.

Paris Hilton – What the Fuck?

Here is one of the few people who can actually afford to hire a full-time driver going to jail for being caught twice driving on a suspended license. This is obvious but it is so ludicrous that I feel obligated to waste a few words on the topic. Come on! She should get time added for just being a complete asshole and they should toss her mom in as well for defending the spoiled rotten idiot.

Brutillicus Maximus

I did manage to make it to the 20th anniversary performance by Brutillicus Maximus at Lost on Main Saturday night. The show was sold out but I was fortunate enough to stumble into Claudette a.k.a. Deryl Anne decked out in a sequined and rhinestone studded evening gown and looking gorgeous. Claudette got me into the show but after several rounds of sweet liqueurs and potent cocktails I developed a bad case of the hiccups as well as incoherence and hence I had to stumble home. And so that is what I did. Sunday was not a wonderful day.