I'm Bayin' It.

In a short while I'm going to the Herne Bay library to look at art books for my dissertation. I must be careful to retain my seriousness because it is 'all too easy' to become flippant and dismissive with the information that such books contain. The main problem lies in the fact that it feels boring, like a process of resentment, because I haven't found a subject that can withstand questioning - blunt queries shred art into acrylic confetti - and I get scared that I will never treat art theory with any respect for the rest of my very important life. Perhaps it is the free feeling of making art [meaning the thrill of improvising daft words in front of strangers or drawing the same face again but with a purple crayon] makes the rest of it seem stupid. Or that fact that I want to write something entercational. Or because I am lazy or confused. I reckon that I've done enough head work, the simplest explaination is that a person allows things to be what they are, and I know that instead of writing about the crass world of intelligent opinions I am going to seek that 'power of suggestion' bit and see how it can be stuffed into today's crap racket. Art is so unimportant in the animal kingdom, me and the ants have been arguing all day so far. I sincerely do not care about it. It's entertainment data to the mind. A piece stimulates you or it doesn't. I will do something I promise. Anyone got a genius down their road?