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

Thursday, July 28, 2005


'I wander out into the hall expecting to see someone. It turns out it wasn't anybody: it was a machine. I'm as crazy as a loon: I'm invited out to dinner. I keep telling myself: Before you go to bed, be sure to close the bathroom door; if you don't, you'll just have to get up and close it later. We are going stupidly to places we have never been. Going away from home, sometimes lost, we come by circle, home again. We're surprised: it's changed. Did it slip-out from under us? The day in the woods I took a compass was the day I got lost for sure. Two years later when I was throwing it out, a child to whom I'd given a bass drum asked whether he might also have the compass. The first thing she said was: "Everyone's confused; there isn't anyone now who isn't confused." Or was that the first thing she said?' - John Cage