It's George Sand wearing a top hat. I love top hats! I have a very expensive one, some of you might know. One of my goals is to create in real life the bar in Terminator on Pico in Los Angeles called "Tech Noir", but before I saw that movie I wanted to open a bar that sells David Isen's pies called "Commodore's Sippin' Room" in Echo Park and you could only get in if you were wearing a fancy hat and looked damn good. It was gonna have all sorts of nooks and crannies so people could meet in interesting ways and then have things to talk about in private. Then they wouldn't have to drink so much to talk to people. But, I will tell you a secret about George Sand. She was really a woman with a "pen name". Do you know what that is?
Also she was Frederic Chopin's girlfriend for a while. Even though she "began sporting men's clothing in public" and smoked. BTW, she was a writer too. Baudelaire (a poet) wrote a "review" of her and called her garrulous and a slut and then proceeded to insult every man living at the time. (I think his generation was going through a downfall or something) Pretty absolute shit! I wonder if anyone from this generation thinks the world is going to shit.
So anyway I have been thinking about Chopin and George Sand a lot recently. Also my thoughts drift to the Crimean peninsula. I think that place might be really cool. And also Kate Chopin because she has the same last name. She wrote a really good book that takes place on the Gulf Coast in the summer, and also New Orleans. At the end of the book the main character walks into the sea and becomes enGULFed. She dies. I really like that book. Sometimes I identify with the main character even though she is a woman.
Tomorrow I am going to go to the El Toro Public Library and CHECK OUT SOME BOOKS. No more wikipedia bullshit. If Baudelaire met me he would probably kill himself. That makes me sad. I want to get cooler. I have been thinking lately that if I had to show my band to Mozart or Chopin or Rachmaninoff or even someone new like Diemer I would rather die than suffer the disdain of someone that cool. But even thinking about it is like it already happened.
So, right now I am like one of those green things on the floor of Ursula's cave, a glob writhing with the mass of humanity, producing temporary chord progression garbage and incoherent fleeting thoughts, and I need to become better than that. Everything I have ever made is like a dog's shit. I don't even think I can make something "good" if I try my whole life, but I need to at least try harder. I am going to learn a lot of insane piano songs and hopefully that will help me get thinking in a more flooooowy way.
I wonder what people think about.
I leave you with proof that women can and should wear top hats,
and this George Sand passage:Chopin is at the piano, quite oblivious of the fact that anyone is listening. He embarks on a sort of casual improvisation, then stops. 'Go on, go on,' exclaims Delacroix, 'That's not the end!' 'It's not even a beginning. Nothing will come...nothing but reflections, shadows, shapes that won't stay fixed. I'm trying to find the right colour, but I can't even get the form....' 'You won't find the one without the other,' says Delacroix, 'and both will come together.' 'What if I find nothing but moonlight?' 'Then you will have found the reflection of a reflection.' The idea seems to please the divine artist. He begins again, without seeming to, so uncertain is the shape. Gradually quiet colours begin to show, corresponding to the suave modulations sounding in our ears. Suddenly the note of blue sings out, and the night is all around us, azure and transparent. Light clouds take on fantastic shapes and fill the sky. They gather about the moon which casts upon them great opalescent discs, and wakes the sleeping colours. We dream of a summer night, and sit there waiting for the song of the nightingale...
