9:56 AM. Well, it’s still about as bright as twilight out there. Not much of a day – it looks like we won’t get much of a day today. … I looked up this morning Richard Brautigan, one of my favorite authors – he didn’t make it to 50 – he died at about 49 and ⅔ – and so, yeah, I mean, his works are somewhat clevernesses – not entirely though. I saw him labeled (at Wikipedia, I think) a “postmodern” writer. My friend D. texted this morning that he’s taking his girls to Pittsburgh in coming days – the girls (who are, what, 11 and almost 10?) want a hotel with a pool, D. said, but he might take them to the Warhol Museum – gotta get the kids these days “postmodernized,” I said (and the phone keyboard tried to change that to “postmodernist” – blah). I thought recently that I don’t really care so much about what artistic approach an artist uses, whatever their philosophy is – except, well, I just would like art that, well, that feels – that feels – authentic, I think. I don’t want art where the creator was just trying to make himself or herself look merely clever or cool or hip or whatever. I just want art that – oh, I also am not interested in art made to sell, let’s make that statement, too – I want art that the maker did because it seemed worth doing – quality (Pirsig’s Quality) – I think how much better my art has become in my 40s – and how most of Brautigan’s seems lame from his 40s – the art of his I like came earlier – but maybe he couldn’t break out of those early success-patterns (those patterns that gave him early success).
[From school journal of 4 April 2023, 3rd hour.]