Bang, bang, that awful sound...

...that’s the song from the introduction to Kill Bill vol.1 which reminded me of the sentiment in the following line:



« Il en a même qui parle de trahison et de mort, mais sur une musique inoffensive qui rend ces choses-là presque aimables ».



Some speak of even betrayal and death, but to so gentle a tune as to render such things pleasurable/enjoyable.



André Langevin. Poussière sur la Ville.



To make a sweeping generalisation, isn’t that where all art comes from? I remember my best art-pieces in high school coming from a time and place when I was going through the most horrid, inexpressible (okay, high-school-growing-up) pains. Its too bad I gave my paintings away here and there.



Dolores: such a pretty Spanish word for ‘pain’. I remember this metaphor I’ve always cherished, of a bamboo stalk that needs to be hollowed out and pierced before - and so that – it can produce music. Think of jazz. Songs of betrayal and death – the loss of love and life, the concerns that Langevin talks about are everyone’s concerns, songs that made Elvis famous :).



So yeah, we all do partake in the relishing of one’s miseries. But why? My philosophy professor, Dr. Switzer, recounted an episode where his friend who had just broken up with his girlfriend, while undergoing all the expected pain, expressed that at the same time he felt grateful and perhaps even glad, that he could sense, that he could feel such emotions. And so it is with everything...