He said the lonely mind of the artist is the only creative organ in the world.
Some think O’Hara’s stories consisted of an introduction, a little character development, and the rest was dialogue of a most ordinary nature. O’Hara was more than that, much more. He said the lonely mind of the artist is the only creative organ in the world. His advice: inherit money, have a job that will keep you busy, be born without a taste for liquor, marry a woman who will cooperate in your sexual peculiarities, join a church, don’t live too long. Oh, he had his wild and uncontrollable moments. He thought of his work as a personal reassessment against the history of his time. An important writer of the ’20s, ’30s, and the ’40s and clear until the time he died.
~ David Shields, from “Com Lit 101: Advice from My Dad” in “Other People: Takes & Mistakes” (Knopf, February 21, 2017)
The question kind of stops you. Because you’re okay. Your world is still spinning and you’re still smiling and you’re okay.
But then sometimes you’re not okay. Not even one little bit. And you don’t really sleep at nights because your bed is as empty as your arms. And there’s a space on your wall where his photo used to hang. And sometimes you can’t even eat because he’s gone and the sick feeling in your stomach just becomes a permanent part of you. And when you kiss someone new their lips are wrong and their hands don’t tug your hair and their body doesn’t feel quite right beneath your wandering hands. And sometimes you cry and you don’t think you’ll ever stop.
But you don’t say that. They don’t want to hear that. You just smile and say, “I’m okay I guess.”
She got me praying all hours of the night, say she want my heart,
She pulling me to the river, drawing me with her siren's call,
Done gave her my heart but now she wants my soul,
Well I already sold it to the man in red,
"Fell in love with your charm," but its a curse; cos am dead,
Girl you're not who you say, bad girl they say you are
Innocence isn't where am at, wear your crucifix bae
Don't make me out all serious bonnie, slave to this bad religion,
Unrequited love, praying at my shrine, cos I don't have a heart
Like a dead man walking, I lay at your side,
Make sure you're alright in my world, atleast that for you girl,
It’s incredibly lonely to care about everyone more than they care about you. It’s funny because they dont even realize the pain they are causing me. What more can I ask for? More attention? How pathetic.
And all this time, how did I not notice? That you’re not who I fell in love with? That sparks don’t fly when we are together? That I have spent so long wasting my time for a person who never was right for me?