Creativity’s Luck

Last week I in fact took one day “off.”  Truly OFF.  It rained.  I read.  It rained.  I read.  I wrote…

heavy rainfall

Eight hours later, finally, I am drunk with language.  Like Kansas soil, I require such storms for the necessary surplus… for markings to begin to pool, swirl and confuse – for essential destabilization – undoing language from its conventional attachments and turning it toward an alchemy, a natural compound and resource, something to be stirred and sludged or steeped – allowing for aroma, skimming and residue.  Just language, less meaning – an additive experience, unknown potentials of letters combined by some strange combinatory activity of intuition, convention and accident.  Creativity’s luck.

There is a point to drunkenness – whether artificial, of language or pleasure or love, whether substance, experience or drug – it is to be estranged and immersed – in some sense undone.  Renewed.  Despoiled.  It slows and diffuses me enough to write beautifully again.  Instead of making words, to concentrate on shaping letters.  Forces to create.

It is a baffling and bewilderment – allowing us to require effort for focus, selection and choice – so discreet motions of bodies become both complex and marvelous again, the capacity for smell a wonder and delight, communication and gesture (at all) a mysterious gift.

Inebriation levels the field.  Returns to a source.  Baudelaire may have meant we are potential and solidarity at once – flounderers grasping at tools and beginnings, constructing, cooperating.  We are begun.

Perhaps, then, we drink to erase and begin.  We scramble ourselves toward infancy that we might make effort to grow, while minimizing automated meanings.  To struggle to learn, to be becoming rather than operative.  Innovative over automatic.  To develop and realize.

I love to form letters once drowned in the rain of them.

Flood everything to discover what’s possible.

Saturate in order to dredge, to pan, to anticipate.

pioggia-di-parole

About these ads

About N Filbert

"Arrange whatever pieces come your way" - Virginia Woolf "Thinking about language, while thinking IN language, leads to puzzles and paradoxes" -James Gleick "a word is a bridge thrown between myself and another...a territory shared" - V.N. Volosinov "How words are understood is not told by words alone" - Ludwig Wittgenstein View all posts by N Filbert

9 responses to “Creativity’s Luck

"Authors frequently say things they are unaware of; only after they have gotten the reactions of their readers do they discover what they have said" - Umberto Eco

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Girl with a Turquoise Bike

pedaling about, gathering a synthesis of musings and tidbits with which to marry language and images

London Eyeball

Looking at galleries in London

Awful Library Books

Hoarding is not collection development

Letters to a Young Librarian

"making the head throb heartlike"

theanalogdivide

exploring the intersection of libraries, technology, and community

Jason Griffey

technology, libraries, and occasionally zombies

Agnostic, Maybe

the neverending reference interview of life

Librarian by Day

Bobbi Newman | I'm not that kind of librarian

Library Juice

"making the head throb heartlike"

LJ INFOdocket

"making the head throb heartlike"

The Handheld Librarian

"making the head throb heartlike"

Annoyed Librarian

"making the head throb heartlike"

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 2,689 other followers

%d bloggers like this: