What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9
Last night Nick Cave grabbed my face with both his hands, stared deep into my eyes and said (well, shouted, more like) Girl! Don't you know that the story is always the same! It's the same old recycled shit that we all live and read and sing about. Forget the plot! Character development is where the real excitement is! That's what we've got to focus our attention on! Don't you see?" We were in a bar, having some beers, and he'd only just finished reading the short story that I'd sent in for publication earlier in the day. I don't know where the Bad Seeds were. Nick had picked me up in an old blue pick-up truck and I was wearing the red dress I bought last weekend in New York, which might actually be the most perfect dress I've ever owned. ZZ Top was playing in the background. It was a good night and I don't remember even minding too much that he called my story shit.
Now, Nick Cave is great, maybe even brilliant, but I've never considered him prophetic. But all day today I walked around with a sort of glow, the kind of glow that comes from being chosen to receive a small, secret seed of understanding that, with the right tending, might grow into something valuable and good. Nick Cave visited me (with the obliging help of my subconscious and 25 mg of benadryl) with this great message; some pretty deep shit that might be worth considering after we wipe the sleep from our eyes.
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