Friday, 29 August 2008

My Beautiful World

I've read a lot of discussion on various blogs this week about what people need to get them writing (the right pen, the right chair, the right milieu, etc). I've given the matter some serious thought myself (I have a weakness for black bic biros), but whenever I think about it, the Nick Cave song, There She Goes, My Beautiful World pops into my head. I'm not sure how well-known it is (so apologies if you know it already) and it's not about exactly the same thing - it's more about what artists have to go through to be creative. But it's fun, in its dark way. It's a typical Cave song, full of comically couched lines which leave you wondering just how seriously to take them:
Nabokov wrote on index cards
at a lectern, in his socks,
St John of the Cross did his best stuff
imprisoned in a box.

and my favourite:

Karl Marx squeezed his carbuncles
while writing Das Kapital
and Paul Gauguin he b******d off man
and went all tropical

not to mention:
So if you've got a trumpet, brother,
get on your feet and blow it.
If you've got a field, that don't yield,
get out there and hoe it.

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