Since Gaiman's people answered my copyrights issue so quickly and so nicely, I couldn't but consider the guy may not be a total dick after all. Truthfully I don't remember why I thought that in the first place, it had to do with something that happened 20 years ago... Anyhoo, in one of his interviews on YouTube (Yes, it got as far as me actually youtubing him) he gives an advice to young authors:
READ
WRITE
LIVE
... Which, I have to say, though nowhere as instructive as Vonnegut's, is rather true. In a nutshell.
Then I noticed he's currently married to a freaky music sort of a person and after checking out her blog, I find, she writes:
... and I can't but wonder... Would this have happened to dDidi and me? Would it? I still think it would not. I am much too needy for cushy things, for safety nets, much too lost in the real world to achieve that sort of power on my own and he would never push me - so it would never happen. Maybe he would have gotten somewhere as an author, but I'd stay way behind, anonymous, and content. In my case, the point in fact stands: a professional fantasist requires a hardcore realist to sustain her. And an occasional heartfully meant bitchslap.
In the article below, about Costa Concordia, there's an interview with an elderly couple during which the man says how terrible it was to lose sight of his wife for one moment, in all the panic... How usually he doesn't allow her to go out on her own. And I thought... That's why I always wear a red hat. And the General never allows me to go someplace where he couldn't find me. And how he gets upset if I don't pick up the phone. And how when I am working in the field, he finds an open vantage point and is constantly making sure I didn't wander off or fell someplace while photographing things.
I realise that now - it was only ever a problem me needing a hero to take care of me, while I was surrounded by gay poets.The kind of men that, while a ship is sinking, would weep, hold my hand a write about broken hearts lost in a vast dark sea... It is not a problem anymore. Suddenly, when I don't feel like I have to have my own back all the time, I actually glow, grow and grin.
READ
WRITE
LIVE
... Which, I have to say, though nowhere as instructive as Vonnegut's, is rather true. In a nutshell.
Then I noticed he's currently married to a freaky music sort of a person and after checking out her blog, I find, she writes:
neil is home and working and clearing out his headspace to start his own New Big Things. he and i are almost on the same creative menstrual cycle….probably not by accident.
i think if you marry an artist who makes Big Things and you’re an artist who makes Big Things, chances are you’ll start grooving in the same cycle…hunkering down at the same points and mining your souls simultaneously in different corners of the same room. i love his so very much and can’t believe how fucking lucky i am to have found a man who actually wanted a rock star for a wife
i think if you marry an artist who makes Big Things and you’re an artist who makes Big Things, chances are you’ll start grooving in the same cycle…hunkering down at the same points and mining your souls simultaneously in different corners of the same room. i love his so very much and can’t believe how fucking lucky i am to have found a man who actually wanted a rock star for a wife
... and I can't but wonder... Would this have happened to dDidi and me? Would it? I still think it would not. I am much too needy for cushy things, for safety nets, much too lost in the real world to achieve that sort of power on my own and he would never push me - so it would never happen. Maybe he would have gotten somewhere as an author, but I'd stay way behind, anonymous, and content. In my case, the point in fact stands: a professional fantasist requires a hardcore realist to sustain her. And an occasional heartfully meant bitchslap.
In the article below, about Costa Concordia, there's an interview with an elderly couple during which the man says how terrible it was to lose sight of his wife for one moment, in all the panic... How usually he doesn't allow her to go out on her own. And I thought... That's why I always wear a red hat. And the General never allows me to go someplace where he couldn't find me. And how he gets upset if I don't pick up the phone. And how when I am working in the field, he finds an open vantage point and is constantly making sure I didn't wander off or fell someplace while photographing things.
I realise that now - it was only ever a problem me needing a hero to take care of me, while I was surrounded by gay poets.The kind of men that, while a ship is sinking, would weep, hold my hand a write about broken hearts lost in a vast dark sea... It is not a problem anymore. Suddenly, when I don't feel like I have to have my own back all the time, I actually glow, grow and grin.
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