Now after all these years I read: (see last sentence in the attached report from the imaging center: “left inguinal hernia”!)
This highlights my life-long state of mind, of letting bad things happen to me, of not participating out of fear of being wrong or questioning authority, of being a mere spectator. I could list a few other events like this, like the abuse I’ve suffered from at the hands of those that thought I was a thief—long story—but I already spend an enormous amount of energy trying painfully not to recall them, though I can see clearly in my mind all the faces of these protagonists...
This is somewhat like the fabled artist’s curse, perhaps, to survive a life of pain or persecution by way of internalizing it into works, cauterizing the wound with virulent prose or embedding it in fiery strokes of impasto. But no, not all artists need to suffer nor are evidence that the best suffered the most, no. Some suffer much and sadly are dreadfully awful artists too, or their gifts being such that they suffer little scorn for their actual wrong-doings. Picasso may have been such an artist if we are leaning towards Arianna Stassinopoulos Huffington’s impression of him (Creator, Destroyer)...
Trying to recover a few missing itunes tracks (for a specific recording of Gorecki’s third Symphony) it occurs to me I am doing exactly the same thing, returning to an error and by trying to right it I cause myself that much more injury. And so the anticipation mounts, as with the anxiety, with the gradual crescendo of the first movement of Gorecki’s Symphony no 3, only to be denied the resolution in the second and third movements!
Perhaps it is easy to say just let it go, to believe one can just move on... but one in such a similar situation might always feel as though they proceed with the wrong street atlas; and I will always wonder whether my life would have been different had I loudly spoken up about being operated on on the wrong side!
