What happens when an introverted Ennea-type FIVE, with a strange and beautiful singing voice, finds a nesting place in the spotlight? Well, you get Running Scared and Crying and Bob Dylan remembering how his voice “could jar a corpse.” You get Roy Orbison.
We are mostly untutored in the essentials—death, loss, temporality and diminishment. Grief is ego’s response to an existential fact: “Everything passes / Everything changes.” It’s an unwillingness to let go of what’s gone.
Self-improvement is fine but it’s froth on the coffee. The essential thing is to take no direction, have no strategy, be guided from within.
We ought not to accept awards for doing what we want. Genuflecting before some eminence turns us into schoolboys. If an award cannot be avoided, we must in the event be at least as graceless and discomBobulated as a certain songwriter. Honours are paltry, offered Keith Richards, displaying a savant’s gift for the perfect word.