As I read again about Kurt Vonnegut's history I am saddened and amazed. Did that life form his magnificent art? Well, I suppose that our experiences always shape the work that we do.
My struggles in life are truly put into a proper perspective when I ponder the tragedy that others go through. I've had a couple of women rip my heart out in the last few years. When they did, for some reason, they just kept shredding. I'll probably never know why. Friends and strangers like to tell me, "Hey, at least you got some songs out of it."
I don't need songs. I was happier with a heart.
At any rate I have spent too much time and energy and oxygen whining about my romantic misadventures. Maybe it's good to be reminded of real heartbreak, true sadness.
What I have come to realize is that once the crack is there, once a little of the darkness has been let in, it's always there. I'm hoping that I have just widened my scale now. You know, exquisite joy on this end and bleak misery on the other. I keep my foot down hard now, trying my best to keep it in the happy zone.
Sometimes it works.