ScottyP431
12-08-2005, 09:56 AM
A friend had to bring one in for class today, I suggested the following:
Style. Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing. To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without style. To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art. Bullfighting can be an art. Boxing can be an art. Loving can be an art. Opening a can of sardines can be an art. Not many have style. Not many can keep style. I've seen dogs with more style than men, although not many dogs have style. Cats have it with abundance. When Hemingway put his brains to the wall with a shotgun, that was style. Or sometimes people just give you style. Joan of Arc had style. John the Baptist, Jesus, Socrates, Caesar, Garcia Lorca. I have met men in jail with style. I have met more men in jail with style than men out of jail. Style is a difference, a way of doing it, a way of being done. Six herons standing quietly in a pool of water, or you walking naked out of the bathroom without seeing me.
-Edit- Its a Charles Bukowski poem called Style
What would you pick?
Style. Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing. To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without style. To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art. Bullfighting can be an art. Boxing can be an art. Loving can be an art. Opening a can of sardines can be an art. Not many have style. Not many can keep style. I've seen dogs with more style than men, although not many dogs have style. Cats have it with abundance. When Hemingway put his brains to the wall with a shotgun, that was style. Or sometimes people just give you style. Joan of Arc had style. John the Baptist, Jesus, Socrates, Caesar, Garcia Lorca. I have met men in jail with style. I have met more men in jail with style than men out of jail. Style is a difference, a way of doing it, a way of being done. Six herons standing quietly in a pool of water, or you walking naked out of the bathroom without seeing me.
-Edit- Its a Charles Bukowski poem called Style
What would you pick?