‘narrative art is dead, we are in a period of mourning’

so said pasolini.

at least according to the film review horsemouth has in front of him (abel ferrara does pasolini with willem dafoe - whoda thunk it?).

horsemouth has been a bit knackered of late and is finding it difficult to think (or emote, or say yes to projects) - a period of mourning, of drawing in his forces, would probably suit him. he should reread the freud essay on mourning again - it’s a good one (horsemouth has to admit freud does write well - unlike jung and rank - horsemouth is tempted to say they write like bitches - even anais nin (rank’s friend who would take him out dancing in harlem) is compelled to admit that rank writes so badly that no-one can get interested in his ideas. it is surprising how much less compelling jung’s prose is than his art - his art is at least decently crazy.

the hero raised by the half-man half beast rises again - rank noted this, machiavelli noted this. the hero must be able to connect with his animal nature.

horsemouth has been shrugging again, getting rid of tasks - a babysitting, an extra beach-side donkey rides portage event. he’s tired - under the previous dispensation he wold have got a week of reduced bookings round about now - instead he’s got to clump on towards some distant finishing line in december. ah bless the cosmos - work has just cancelled for today - horsemouth will lounge about and read.

tonight horsemouth probably (energy levels permitting) jams with andrew minty. they should get a set list together. of course horsemouth works much less than many of the schmoes in this city it is only his over-attachment to the work that causes it to be tiring - if he could just adjust his perspective on it he’d be fine.