Questioning the Composer
Do you ever exorcise through composing? Can you get rid of old boyfriends, compose away their ghosts? Can composing make sense of the awful separating of stuff: was this your book, or is it mine? can I take the whisk? what about the moka pot? Is composing a way of "working out" your life? Or is it something more serious, a furrowed-brow deliberation on "widely relevant" issues? Is the front page of the Times your fodder? Or is composing purely fun, like taking a walk to the rose garden or eating a fine meal? I imagine many composers compose with intention, wanting to prophesy or...to please. To please an audience, a critic, a mother, a lover...is that composing?
In the end, I do not think I care too much for intentional composers. My mantle only has room for those who compose because it spills out of them...like these wildly nonsensical words spilling out of me to you. Are you that kind of composer? Are you?