"True literature", real art, the kind of work that blows your mind, curls your toes, pricks your heart, tears you apart, puts you back together, and mends your soul, is not created "by diligent and reliable officials", Jacob Nordby says. It isn't built by those who play safe or nice. It isn't made by those who stay in line and do what they're told.
The really great stuff. The top shelf, good shit, is made "by madmen [or madpersons], hermits, heretics, dreamers, rebels, and skeptics." It's made by the weirdos. The rejects and degenerates. The ones who get picked last and never fit in. The lost causes who find salvation in giving the finger to the rules.
"We are a beutiful let down", Jon Foreman says. "The church of the dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools." The dumpster-fire-trainwrecks incarnated in human form.
If you're one of any of these, then welcome. You're in good company. No matter how broken you think you are. No matter how fractured. We need what you're making. We need your work. We need to hear what you're saying. We need you to keep saying it and saying it and shouting it and screaming it at the world. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep making. We need you. Keep going, please.
Okay—“Meant to Live” was my JAM, back in my angsty days. Thank you for sharing one of my fav albums. Imma have to listen now. I so appreciate JF work as an artist. And yours too!
🙏