I agree with him. It appears disjointed but there is a unifying thread. His emotional logic is sound.
My honest opinion is that only madmen (and women) are capable of sanity in this twisted world. If you are not crazy, then you really ARE crazy. It is not natural to be a machine. It is not natural to hate. It is not natural to live in boxes or to prefer precise lines across long distances. These are learned habits, and have nothing to do with primitive forests, the flight of birds, or the arcs of the sun and moon. Those are different wisdoms. We suffer in silence, but we also suffer from silence. Nowhere is here, and it is impossible to arrive without moving.
Tarkovsky always messes me up. I just watched this movie. I didn’t think it possible for a painting to make me cry, but it did. It’s the eyes. So much pain, so much patience, so much something I can’t name. They tell you there is something higher, and that suffering has a purpose.
If I ever meet Michael Savage or Alec Jones, the first thing I will do is tell them they are fucking lunatics. The second thing I will do is give them a hug–or shake their hand–and say THANKS!!!!
I present as a mind, but I am really an ocean. And it is both horrifying and gratifying, because everything is in there. Nothing is missing. It is my game. I play it. I watch the wind and rain, storms and smooth waves. I feel the sun, I extend to the moon, and sometimes I sleep in peace.
There is some part of me which SEES, which never sleeps. My task is to earn its trust.
Oh, two hours of poetry and a bottle of wine will do that. But I value my madness. I prize it highly. Think how much more interesting the world would be if everyone were on their own path, if they engaged directly with life, if they were passionate, fearless, driven. We all get broken in the end, but there can be moments of perfection on the way.