Day 71: Wednesday
Good morning Zak,
It’s beautiful outside this afternoon in Milan. The sky is pure blue. It’s really stunning.
See this mess? This means I’m in the middle of a very good piece. Whenever that happens, other things become harder. Like cleaning.
You asked me some kind of philosophical question the other day. Something about moral responsibility, I think. Normally I’d be all up in it, but philosophizing is a bit like cleaning and today I have a truant disposition. I’d rather just sit and stare at the miraculously blue sky.
Seriously, how is it so freaking blue? It’s ridiculous. There’s just nothing there. It’s like one of those contemporary monochromatic paintings.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Morton Feldman recently. His music has that kind of sensibility—monochromatic, I mean. It’s just exquisitely singular.
Usually when I look at the sky I’m used to seeing it with all kinds of nasty clouds blotted all over it. But the thing that’s so appealing about this particular sky is the way it contrasts with all that. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the clouds when they’re there, but at the moment they would be a nuisance. It would be a shame to splotch up something that’s just so perfectly blue.
There goes an airplane.
I guess what I’m saying is, it’s not like it’s Wednesday Afternoon’s fault that I find her so appealing. It’s just ’cause I’ve seen a lot of other days—perfectly fine ones mind you—and Wednesday Afternoon stands out. I mean, I probably wouldn’t feel this way if I’d never seen the likes of Saturday at Eleven.
If Morton Feldman composed a perfectly blue sky, would he be at fault for how heinously gorgeous it is?
But I said I wasn’t going to philosophize today. I should really clean this room up, but I’m probably not going to.