In a playful mood today, I've interlaced two writers into this:
Intra View
We keep waiting for something to go wrong
with the seasons. *I don't think writers
should tell people what to believe
or how to behave. *But something has already
gone wrong with the genres. So I let lots
of fragmentary, sometimes contradictory opinions
- as though they came from a large cast
of different characters - into the poems.
They have all bled into one another. That's
what life is like, after all. Decorum is
no longer observed. Just listen, next time
you take a bus into town. Millions
of different voices, each as important
as your own solitary whining. Isolation
and decline, fatal flaws
and falls, the throes of heroes.
(This text compiled by interweaving a paragraph from *The Information*
by *Martin
Amis *with the paragraph from an interview with *John Tranter *which I
published on Tuesday on my blog. All literature is a game, of some
seriousness or not.)
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
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