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  « the skies are again murky | Main | and herein lies the long »  

August 21, 2002

little to say. physically and

little to say.
physically and emotionally exhausted.
wrote a bio for kristina that the shakespeare company won't print as it is too "atypical"
which was precisely the point; the idea being that for once the bio would attempt to capture her individuality.
but no.
they won't have it.

sad.
sad.
sad.
sad.
sad.
sad.

where is the courage in art?
has it all fallen into the abyss of monetary interests?
more more more more more more more more more more more olmre olmeromermeomromeormeomr.

i find it pathetic that they are not willing to let the artist represent herself in the way that she wishes.
so terribly depressing that she must conform to their ideals to get her fucking paycheck.
all in the interest of business.
it makes me furious beyond belief and goes directly against all that i hold dear and true.
so much so that i cannot write at the moment.

whatever happened to howard roark?

Posted by at August 21, 2002 09:00 PM

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COMMENTS

When I read The Fountainhead I was simultaneously struck ideal and depressed. Have you figured out how to escape the suffocating tar of the heards?

Posted by: Amy at November 7, 2003 04:55 PM
   


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