And I heard they killed that boys who plays the drums, you know the one.
March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Most writers write because they are unhappy. Which is probably why most humans beings do anything, that sense that it will improve their lives. But writing is an interesting one in this sense. The fact of the matter is happy people make boring writers, for me at least. I hope I don’t sound too much like a goth 14-year-old girl but happy writers – who write happy books about teenage girls who fall in love and marry their childhood sweetheart and two months later it’s a shitty rom-com making shit money off awkward first date couples – are shit. Where’s the meaning. That’s not reading a book? Is it? Am I just a cynical bastard? Do you get the same kick from that as I do from Hemingway? or Sylvia Plath? I hope for their sake they do. Reading is as personal as music I suppose. People like different things. Miley Cyrus is Bridget Jones Diary while Jeff Buckley is The Bell Jar, Paris Hilton is the Princess Daires while The Libertines are Fear and Loathing. It’s depends on what the artist is aiming for and if it’s what the mainstream audience want. Money or the expression of art.