I see people crying about Ray Bradbury and other writers and artists dying, fuck that. I understand crying over someone you know dying, but an artist?
Take John Coltrane for instance. He was an incredible artist, transcendent in that he mastered his art and took it apart in the name of love. His art lives forever and nurtures damnable fools like me. Think of what he got to do and be. Pouring every bit of himself into his passion - immolation into the heart. So don’t mourn the dead artist, they and their art is immortal. Mourn the poor sad fucks that never once broke open and spilled all their love and fear, those that never had the guts to come undone for anyone or thing. Mourn their wasted sad fucking excuses for never having any goddamn guts. Or finding anything that meant enough to them that they would risk humiliating themselves or looking a stupid fool. Cry for them, because they never even lived.
