Crashbox

Sitting on the front porch smoking a filterless Pall Mall and blogging via my wireless...it's a perfect evening. Strange, once again I am vehicle-less. Ever since Thanksgiving of Senior Year I have had a hell of a time keeping a running car. Now for a summer of walking, riding my bike and hitching. It sort of feels good, but I have not lost the yearning yet...I would give a lot to head out for a long drive somewhere for the weekend.
I've been thinking: it seems that a proper artist, whether he writes or draws or paints, if he wants to be accurate and relevant he must be somewhere where there are a lot of people and a lot going on. I used to dream of sitting in an isolated country home, drinking my coffee and working alone. But that seems to work only after a lifetime of experience or for simple adventure stories or fantasy-like artwork. If a writer (or artist) means to paint reality and humanity with his craft he must see and understand the people and culture of his times. This may be a simple concept, but it struck me because it is not a matter of desiring to be part of a scene or the fun you might have; it is a matter of observation.