Chaotic Recursion

I say that English is my only language, and I struggle with even that.
I like big concepts, but not the words that go with them.

It is a little like someone trying to make a watch with a crow bar. Describing the lines of an intricate pattern with a quarter inch brush. It doesnt really work that well, however hard they may try.

As much as I like it when Lyotard says of postmodernism: “Like all academic foolishness, it has an argot of jargon, tropes and incoherent phraseology recapitulated continuously by the cognoscenti. It distills, ultimately, to mere posturing as a substitute for intellectual fervor. Although nothing, according to the postmodernist, can be determined to be "true", postmodernism itself is, of course, True.” I am much more likely to recount this as “Postmodernism is too messy to really worry about”

If asked what is I like about a piece (be it dance, music, theatre, art or literature) I am more likely to say “Because it is fun/different/an excape/comforting” than I am to ramble on about how I liked that the post-structuralist implications of the Freudian sub-text contrasted most agreeably with the inherent Byronesque narcissism of the mean character.

I wonder if this is just my way of rebelling against (running away from?) the current trend of the art world (and of art education) wherein it is ideas and concepts that are rewarded, rather than simple enjoyment.

As much as I understand that Stockhousens Gruppen is a collosus of a creation for the cognoscenti of the art world, I nonetheless prefer the sheer sensuousness of Liszt's symphonic poems.
Not to say that either one is better of worse than the other, or more or less valid. Different but equal. (Even if I enjoy one more than the other)

All this has been vaguely leading up to my way of explaining the contents of this blog.
Essentially a rambling excuse for my utter literary lassitude when it comes to writing this thing.

If you feel the need to bully some sense out of me after I post something without even a vague connection to meaning and reality, feel free to ask. I wont guarantee a reply, or that if I do reply that it'll be anything other than poorly formed rubbish, but you can but try.

I hope that made sense to you.
Personally, I gave up shortly after the Artaud reference.