19 Februaury 2017


by Andrew

Reading some of Van Gogh's letters to his brother, I love the simple way in which he points-out things of beauty. "That is the thing," he says. Or, that picture of Rembrandt sure is beautiful, isn't it? There's no decoration. The observance is the important thing.

Regarding the website,—this website—it's simple because it has to be, for one. I know very little HTML, and even less CSS. And I have no templates or anything. So this place is simple.

But I don't know HTML much or CSS because I don't think it's necessary anyway. I don't trouble myself with it. The less you know, the better, I feel. The simplicity from its lack is good.

Mr. Money Mustache retired at 30 because he simplified his life. Me, I can survive with so little money, comfortably doing as I please,—though limited of course—if I'll live with almost nothing. Now, who wants to live like this, like me, I don't know they're in their right mind. But for the freedom, I'll live-off bread crumbs. And I do.

With my writing, I need to find it yet, this simplicity. Flowerpots I write. Who wants flowerpots? Walls of writing look intimidating—Tolstoy and his tomes. And you must make sure that all those sentences each blaze a trail neon through the night. Or else it's just junk.

Moving ahead, I'll try to cut some of this "fluff." But I do try now even. Editing is maybe more fun than writing. I take an axe to it all and just lop-off a limb here, a limb there. This looks good? Here, let me chop-out some more. That looks good? And it does, almost always. Like a doctor I am, an editor. A butcher. It all relates.

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