'One cannot speak anymore of being, one must speak only of mess.' - Samuel Beckett

Saturday, November 06, 2004

I don't know...

Apocalypse Now weaves itself out to me. It's always there, the 'Now'. Once it's done, the art it's always there. We carve out. My mother used to see an F4 Phantom pilot for a time during the early seventies. Tony! I remember him really well and I remember this dark skinned, crisp airforce man with all the buttons and stars. He'd come and see us all after his stints in Vietnam. My mum has said often how much he used to make her laugh. I mean really, he really made her laugh. If your dropping Napalm for a living you need a sense of humour.