Banking

 

Do you bank experience? A bad experience can pay off if it leads to the production of a poem or novel. Take James Jones' war classic From Here to Eternity.  The only problem is actuarial. The older you get, the shorter the time to repeat the reward, which justifies suffering. And of course there are experiences which break the bank. The notion that artists are exempted from the downsides others experience, because they they may profit (or even claim fame and/or notoriety) from them is a great default concept, until you find yourself drowning.

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

Eight Million Ways to Die

A cat has nine lives. Humans only have one though there is You Only Live Twice, which is why fiction is more appealing than reality. “You only live twice. Once when you are born and once when you look death in the face,” is the author's  haiku. BTW it's the last James Bond novel published in Ian Fleming's lifetime. Not to be outdone, Lawrence Block wrote Eight Million Ways to Die. If indeed you only lived twice you would never know it. When you’re about to be reincarnated god makes that indentation above the upper lip which makes way for the life to come.

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

Loss Aversion

Is the fear of death a form of loss aversion, similar to that, say, of losing money? Of course this refers not only to one’s own mortality, but that of others who are part of the pod. Such phobias naturally have an effect on behavior. You're unlikely to undertake certain activities until your concern has passed. When you go to the beach, you wait for the swells to become manageable or the riptide to recede. You’ll perhaps delay a return trip until the threat of “weather” is rescinded. Potential gains are also freighted with the possibility of punishment, the obvious one being that one’s newfound prosperity will be taken away. Ultimately, however, the questions is mute. Why live, if someday one’s life is bound to end?

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

View From the South Meadow

'View From the South Meadow" by Fairfield Porter (1969)

Those who constantly feel pain are enjoined to change their inspirations. Imaging is one method that can be suggested. Think of something which catalyzes positive thoughts. It's like trying a new route to the destination when you're facing delays. Some drivers only follow Google maps while others may choose a more arduous path that circumvents traffic and adds different scenery along way. Freud compared free association to looking out of the window of a train. Fairfield Porter, an exhibit of whose work has recently completed a run at the Art Student's League, adhered to the notion that "the real is specific." What is there to look for, when the present lurks right before one's eyes? He chose to paint the empty field above offering no anodyne for its emptiness.

The Sorrow and the Pity

Au jour le jour means from day to day. The expression conjures the image of a French provincial town out of the pages of Flaubert or Balzac, as opposed to the sophisticated salons of French Vogue or Marie Claire. One day, in this reckoning, is similar to the other. "We must work" was the refrain of Chekhov’s Three Sisters. Marie Claire is au contraire "un prenom familier, " but no matter. If you took language lab in high school you will remember the iterations of a whole way of life life out of the reader "la maison," "la cuisine," "la table" that could translate as Middletown USA. There’s Paris and the elegant Polo Club in the Bois de Boulogne then just the life in Clermont-Fernand, the town in which Marcel Ophuls' The Sorrow and the Pity takes place.

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

Cosmic Indifference

Black Hole

Have you ever faced the cosmic indifference of the universe? You always think that your behavior is what's causing the problem, going through the painful analysis of what you would or would not have done or said to deserve the treatment you received. What's worse is the realization it has nothing to do with you.

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

Head

Head

Sex has nothing to do with love. Sex has to do with sex. Some people like George Simenon who fucked chambermaids and everyone else are good at it. IB Singer fucked lots of women and Wilt Chamberlain boasted a thousand. Maybe they were turned on by his seal nose coat. Sex is an equal opportunity employer. There are women who hire gigolos when they’re not satisfied by lovers who boast about their technique. There are lots of people of both sexes who blow each other. Females blow men and guys blow their male friends. In the old days this latter took place guiltily in the back rows of sleazy porn houses in deserted downtowns or in the bathroom of a Trailways, but now that passionless sex has become normalized you just get blown. It’s like getting a haircut. People blow each other's brains out. Have you ever gone to a dinner party where instead of greeting you at the front door with a kiss or hug the hostess or host simply gets down on their knees and blows you? It’s sexist not to include the vagina, but when you're talking about blowjobs, someone has to have a dick. Of course the host or hostess may want to pleasure their female guests  before dinner. However, to perform oral sex on a woman requires a bed, unless you want to do it on the floor.

read "Chicago" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star