the sourcerer: Sugar in my bowl.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Sugar in my bowl.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook this morning: how many of you are on Twitter and why?

Twitter is a mystery to me. I'm only there because the man with the generous heart said I should be (he also said you should start a blog / you should start a tumblr, etc. so I listen)

Sometimes I find interesting links there, sometimes it feels like a real-life soap opera. I never won anything before in my life, but on Twitter I won a meal for two at a posh wine farm and a few months later, a case of Pinot Noir. Who follows who is also an utter mystery to me. Dita von Teeze follows Die Antwoord! I once retweeted a writer from LA. It was something about hairy dudes in a car and it reminded me of film recces I've been on. He said thanks and we had a little chat. Next morning I woke up and Erica Jong was following me. Yes! Famous Feminist Writer! She of the zipless fuck!

(I do admit to checking every now and then to see if she's still there.)

7 comments:

Susan A. said...: that is bizarrely fantastic. I'm a huge fan of E.J. I would be pleased as punch!; August 17, 2011 at 11:54 AM
D said...: I'm a newish Twitter convert. Converted because I choose what I get. I don't have a TV, but I do work from my PC most days so I can get the highlights of international news as it breaks. Online, because the sites I read are often real people with day jobs who can't post everyday, but most do tweet when they post - so not only do I get a reminder but I usually know if I'm interested. Plus interesting people post interesting links that I otherwise would not find. Facebook just bored me and I find it mildly creepy how it maintains a facade of friendship with people we wouldn't really spend time with. I want to see or speak to my friends, not see their status updates. Twitter doesn't expect you to be friends...; August 17, 2011 at 12:09 PM
Karen Bekker said...: I've been scared to tweet, but I think you guys have swung me...
might just have to upgrade my cell phone first!
PS- see you at sarda tomorrow?- juggling catering and kids, so will be in and out in a flash.... famous last words! x; August 19, 2011 at 9:50 PM
arcadia said...: Erica Jong! Dit is officially awesome.; August 20, 2011 at 8:55 PM
anneke B said...: your friend just joined twitter...; August 23, 2011 at 3:33 PM
the sourcerer said...: :-)

since posting this I'm pleased to see some Twitter converts...
D: I agree - and Twitter doesn't expect anything from you either - it just kind of putters on in the background. whereas behold my soul if I ignore someone on FB...; August 24, 2011 at 3:33 PM
the sourcerer said...: Karen - I missed the boot sale AGAIN. slept in...; August 24, 2011 at 3:33 PM

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You could tend a garden at night, only at night, pouring dark water onto leaves, and into the earth, like pouring midnight onto midnight. You could hold your soil-stained hands up to the moon. The stars would gleam on the bottom of the shovel. It would smell the same as a daytime garden - it would smell green, violet, red, white. But come back, in daylight. Come back, to see the colours without closing your eyes.
- Sean Michaels. Accompaniment to the song "Immune" by LOW. Said the Gramophone

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to."
Jim Jarmusch (1953- )

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to go was the Luxembourg gardens where you smelled and saw nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l'Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought that Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) - from A Moveable Feast.