Of failing

 

Failure is inevitable, so is sucess at times , but how could we triumph the acidic taste if failing, when we are confronted with the reality , that society hates losers .

That as much as compassion, is relinquished and bestowed upon us , and sympathetic hazes, it often falls flat, and we are met with the same fate of Gatsby .

Society can only afford you too many chances to lose, you aren't afforded the luxuries of a closeted casino, the gambling , the controlled environment and processes, and the many trials and errors .

I speak this to say, that artists , especially growing ones, aren't afforded the chance to fail, or even to taste failure , with feeling like their whole amiss .

They are no longer have the dunancy of 19 th century , and prior classist .Those who toil day , and night .Those who learn the anatomy, and every limbs, and digestive organ of the human body, just to get the mivement, the  and the poses of the body accurately.

Those who go overcome their mutulated body inconvenices like" Bach" , "Bethooven "to reach the soundest powers of their talent, and never a lose a wink of sleep .

Those who lose sleep, but all in the name of writing ballads, souloul songs, cries of the mourner, and the deafening word , in confessionalist style .

Or those who go beyond the written word, beyond what we see , to intercept reality, and overcoat their work with layers and layers of surealism, Like "Frida Kahlo", or the alllusive lines of "Matisse", affording a whole generation worth of change .

No , younger artist are no longer afforded that kind of space .

I' m speaking of the 21 century writer and artist, who can't simply resort to nature to write , and listen at the flying birds, as the send waves of inspiration to him.

Nor could he rely on a pasing neighbour smile, flimsy encouter or escalade to a foreign country .

Everything is done remotely, everything is done so placidly, quickly, and sterily , that we can't afford to sense the human rawness of faillure .

So we rely on artificial intelligence , on quick, guaranteed mechanism, that will grants us the opprotunities in minutes and in the work in less so .

We become indebted to the genuis , of this magnificent creature , with the invisible hands and face, but with so evident magestical power and mind, that ours become miniscule ,and terrifying .

It becomes evident, that we are sham , hollow, and empty with the companionship of our distressd friend the camptriot" ai ".

It becomes the acquaintance of all that is lovely , and triumphant, and we become the synonymous of losing .

But within such consumptive, competitive ,and always over  conquering environment, the homo-sapien species of losers become threatened of extinction,and winners take the lead

Therefore, we grudge our position, forget our humanity, and let ourselves fall to the shores of the magnificently artifical success 

A sucess, that tastes even the sweetest and most validated , as we see others work, toil, and bang their head against the wall, while their mediocrity, their human efforts and naturalism is ill -afforded while our artifical friends win, by a much les sober hands .