The case for being critical

"Acid wants the gleam, and the rust says it's only being corrosive." 

-- late 19th and early 20th century Austrian writer Karl Kraus defending the nature of being a critic.

This is from a translation quoted by Jonathan Franzen in his recent piece for the Guardian in which he explains his skepticism about social media and other relatively new technologies. You really ought to read the whole thing. I already knew Franzen was a good writer, and I am now keen to check out Kraus' work too. 

Oh, and the actual quote in its native form appears to be"Die Säure will den Glanz, und der Rost sagt, sie sei nur zersetzend."

The cleverness of others

"The true spirit of conversation consists more in bringing out the cleverness of others than in showing a great deal of it yourself; he who goes away pleased with himself and his own wit is also greatly pleased with you."
-Jean de La Bruyère's "The Caractères"

I really liked this quotation, which I discovered this week via a post on Joanna Goddard's quite popular blog. I haven't read anything by La Bruyère before, but in searching for the source of this particular excerpt I found that you can read the entirety of the book in which it appears for free on Google Books

So! I might have even more fancy French philosophical gems on hand soon.

That luminous part of you

"Do all the other things, the ambitious things – travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness.  Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial.  

That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality – your soul, if you will – is as bright and shining as any that has ever been.  Bright as Shakespeare's, bright as Gandhi's, bright as Mother Theresa's. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly."


-- From George Saunders' pitch-perfect commencement speech to Syracuse University's class of 2013.



Quit this crazy scene



I spent some time in Los Angeles this past week for work, and while driving around there in the warm palm tree haze I kept thinking about Joni Mitchell's album Blue which was written and recorded in L.A. in 1971. God, what a wonderful record.

In re-listening certain songs from Blue these past few days, I found on YouTube this rendition of River by James Taylor, which was performed back in 2001 at some concert honoring Joni. Turns out he actually played the guitar in A Case Of You, among other songs.

Anyway, I liked when James sang this line from River at around 0:50 in the video (he changed the words a bit):

"I'm going to make a lot of money, and then I'm going to quit this crazy scene."

Joni had written that 30 years ago as an earnest young folk singer spending her first seemingly soulless Christmas in Southern California. It looked to me like James sang this part with a bit of a wink to her, as it's pretty clear that neither of them managed to quit the scene after all, despite their youthful intentions.

What I want to know is: Why? Is it that what people think would be "enough money" to quit the scene is never enough once they get it -- they always need more? Or is it that it turns out the scene is really what they love after all?