Naked

I love tearing off covers.

One of my favorites is to rip up the carpet. This has gotten me into trouble before but I do it anyway. I can't stand the carpet. What are you hiding? The floor should serve a purpose. Nothing serves that purpose better than nice hardwood. If you pull back the carpet and discover hardwood, then reveal it. The most beauty exists in purpose. If you pull back the carpet and find cement, or worse, then move away.

I've removed every book jacket on our bookshelf. A pretty sleeve won't fool anyone. Even if it is pretty in it's own right as a work of art, it never looks nice stacked against all the other pretty works of art. All of them with different designs and different color tones. With only plain hardcovers to see, the bookshelf as a whole looks nice. It's the natural elegance that always appears on its own.

I hate lingerie. Why all the nonsense? Most of the time it's there to fool us. Other than that, all it serves to do is hold up the process. Both of which are dishonest.

I love Bob Dylan because he is only his voice and his guitar. And his voice isn't even sweet. It's raw. It won't distract you. He doesn't use catchy riffs or clever concepts either. Nothing but the real. He just sings his song. That's why he's the best.

Nothing is more naked than a stand-up comedian. How bare can one be? Alone on the stage under the lights. Not even a singing voice or a dramatic character to hide behind. Only one's talent at telling a story and getting us to laugh can get them through.

Movies are not naked. Not at all. There are infinite ways to hide flaws in a film.  Get a famous actor. If they're pretty, no one will notice the bad acting or horrible dialogue. A flashy director can take your mind off the poor story. If you pump millions of dollars into the marketing, people will convince themselves that the movie must be good, no matter what their own impressions may be. Cinema is like the push-up bra of the art world.

But most of the time it's hard ripping up the real carpet.

Those walls we erect around us have reasons to be there. Yet, how strong we feel when we can tear them down. Or realize that they aren't even really there. How pure and clean and brave we are when we throw away the book jacket and let ourselves be read for the novel we truly are, not the novel we think that we want to be.

After all, it's only criticism. It can't kill us.