Love feels like a great misfortune, a monstrous parasite, a permanent state of emergency that ruins all small pleasures.

  Slavoj Žižek
Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit.

W. Somerset Maugham
It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious. 

Oscar Wilde

There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.

George Bernard Shaw

In this 1982 image released by Epic/Legacy Records, artist Andy Warhol, left, and publicist Susan Blond, second left, are shown backstage with members of The Clash, Paul Simonon, center, Joe Strummer and Terry Chimes, right, at Shea Stadium in New York.

Joan Mitchell

Low Water, 1969. Oil on canvas, 112 x 79 inches (284.48 x 200.66 cm). Carnegie Museum of Art

One of Joan's favorite haunts, the smoke-and stale beer-perfumed San Remo had black- and- white tiled floors, a pressed-tin ceiling, a dark-mirrored bar, and a clientele that included James Agee, Miles Davis, Judith Malina, Tennessee Williams, and young New York poets. There painter Jane Freilicher used to observe Joan and Mike across the room--she in jeans and the talismanic long leather coat- smoking, drinking, huddling conspiratorially over a little table, and looking "very French New Wave." 

Untitled, 1961. Oil on canvas, 90 x 81 inches (228.6 x 205.7 cm). Collection of the Joan Mitchell Foundation, New York

Although there is no specific place, nature is more ‘really’ present than in most representational paintings. It is because of the ‘reality’ of the details. The details, shaped like brushstrokes, have committed shapes, and the colors have committed texture, hue, and substance. They are not muddy, which has nothing to do with the presence or absence of browns or grays, but with their being clearly what they are. Miss Mitchell has been attentive to outside nature and her inner experience, and she gives you something real.

The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason. 

John Cage

The whole dream of democracy is to raise the proletarian to the level of stupidity attained by the bourgeois.

Gustave Flaubert

Marcel Duchamp. Paris. 1968.
Henri Cartier-Bresson
883-6 Grau
Gerhard Richter
2004
Stoop and you'll be stepped on; stand tall and you'll be shot at. 

 Carlos A. Urbizo

Hemingway's catch


Havana, Cuba 1950

Gore Vidal, 1960
Manners are especially the need of the plain. The pretty can get away with anything. 

Nothing prevents me from being a writer except laziness. A good writer.

Why is writing important? Mainly, out of egotism, I suppose. Because I want to be that persona, a writer, and not because there is something I must say. Yet why not that too? With a little ego-building — such as the fait accompli this journal provides — I shall win through to the confidence that I (I) have something to say, that should be said.

My “I” is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egotists, even to the point of fatuity. Sane men, critics, correct them — but their sanity is parasitic on the creative fatuity of genius.

Excerpted from the journals of.