The Never Ending Pool

Some ramblings triggered by a third viewing of 'I'm Not There', and a subsequent reading of some poems and letters of Arthur Rimbaud.


How many more times can the 'shape-shifter' pull new rabbits out of the hat? You can't put a number on the possible reinventions of the self that are 'Bob Dylan'. What we have seen so far represents a mere fraction of what might have been, but also a lot more than what might have been.

Because he has had the fortune - good or bad? - to live well into his seventh decade, the number of 'Dylans' is greater than it might have been if certain simple (but not really simple at all) twists of fate had turned out otherwise. 'He' could have been the reasonably happy owner of a hardware store in Hibbing, or he might have completed his degree in the University of Minnesota and spent his life teaching, or he could have ended up in a homeless shelter in New York and drunk/drugged himself to death, or become "just another accident statistic".

But countless twists of fate decided otherwise. And so, the never ending self-invention and self-dismantling continue. Because, inevitably, he will not go on forever, the number of 'Dylans' is certainly finite. But the barrel isn't empty yet, by any means. If his life extends into an eighth or ninth decade, expect more 'Bob Dylans', in or out of the public eye. The reinventions are him.

And, how about us, the spectators, the mesmerized, the loyal followers of this 'trapeze artist'?

Do you like Bob Dylan? Are you a Bob Dylan fan?

These questions have always struck me as strange, slightly bizarre, even/especially when I pose them for myself. Which 'Bob Dylan'? Is it possible to be a 'fan' of all of them, without seeming ridiculous? You like 1963's skinny, hobo-kid in the same way you like 2007's slickly attired growling old crooner? You are a fan of 1975's white-faced gypsy troubadour in the same way as you like the smooth dude in the Supper Club in 1993? You love '66 Bob and '81 Bob with equal, or similar passion? You are a fan of all of those sounds, looks, voices, styles, 'philosophies' ...?

To love all those 'Bobs' equally, at the same time, you'd have to suffer from multiple personality disorder. It's a sure bet that 'Bob' doesn't love all of them equally.

To have loved all them in a serial fashion, you'd have to have gone through the same process of continual reinvention as 'Bob' himself. Or, you'd have to have such a weak sense of 'self' that you'd be willing to follow wherever 'he' (or anyone else) decided to take you. (Maybe that explains, in part, why 'he' is so reluctant to have anything to do with 'his' fans.)

Alternatively, perhaps what you/we/I love is the process itself, rather than any particular phase, or any particular content. Perhaps what we love in 'Bob' is the spectacle of someone attempting to do what all of us (somewhere deep down within us) long to do in the course of our own brief lives.

But, have we had the courage to do so? Or, perhaps, we haven't had the kind of 'luck' he certainly had - meeting the van Ronks, Grossmans, Suzes, Joanies and Saras of this world, all of whom acted as 'enablers' for the jokerman. Was all of that a matter of mere luck, or something else?

Have I found my necessary 'enablers', yet? Occasionally? Ever?
Have I been able to 'move on' every time you I, or knew, deep down, that this is what was required? Have I experienced even one, or a few, Dylanesque self-reinventions? Or, am I, for the most part, stuck with what I have, a seemingly one-off hand dealt to me by circumstances, place of birth, family history, accidence and coincidence? Have I opted for the equivalent of a secure hideaway in a hardware store in Hibbing?


Rimbaud (1871 letter to Georges Izambard):

"I louse up myself as much as possible. Why? I want to be a
poet, and I'm working to make myself a Seer: you will not understand at all, and I hardly know how to explain it to you. The point is to arrive at the unknown by the dissoluteness of all the senses. The suffering are enormous, but one has to be strong, to be born poet, and I have recognized myself to be a poet. It is not my fault at all. It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. Pardon the pun.

I is someone else [i]Je est un autre[/i]] ..."


Chronicles: "Robert Johnson's code of language was like nothing I'd heard before or since. To go with all of that, someplace along the line Suze had also introduced me to the poetry of French Symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud. That was a big deal, too. I cam across one of his letters called "Je est un autre", which translates into "I is someone else". When I read those words the bells went off. It made perfect sense. I wished someone would have mentioned that to me earlier...." (p.288)



p.s. for a complete contrast to 'I'm Not There', see 'Control', Anton Corbijn's recent movie about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, led singer of Joy Division. Curtis was a victim of fate's simple twists. Dylan is their (ring)master.

Bob Dylan, c'est moi.

Jane, I don't doubt that for one second.
I have long thought of you as the NEP's very own anti-[Cate Blanchett].

Thanks. My worst enemies don't even put me down in such a mysterious way.

Rimbaud wrote, in part:

>It is not my fault at all. It is wrong to say: I think. One >ought to say: I am thought.

There is a line of that letter that was curiously edited out before it was widely published.

After 'I am thought' he wrote 'And I do not breathe. Someone else breathes for me.'

http://www.filmlinc.com/fcm/so07/imnotthere.htm

THE LIVES OF OTHERS: Todd Haynes’s anti-biopic I’m Not There is about "Bob Dylan," not Bob Dylan

by Larry Gross


"It is certain that neither men nor women are clearly defined personalities but rather vibrations, flows, schizzes and 'knots.'" — Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus

...

"It’s a strange business," says French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, "speaking for yourself, in your own name, because it doesn’t at all come with seeing yourself as an ego or a person or a subject. Individuals find a real name for themselves, rather, only through the harshest exercise in depersonalization, by opening themselves up to the multiplicities everywhere within them, to the intensities running through them . . . It’s depersonalization through love rather than subjection . . . We have to counter people who think 'I’m this, I’m that' . . . by thinking in strange, fluid unusual terms . . . Arguments from one’s own privileged experience are bad and reactionary arguments."

Of course, the earliest, most memorably succinct formulation of this idea—the demolition of a stable, coherent, metaphysically grounded self—came from the 19th-century French poet who inspired Dylan and whom Haynes invokes early on in I’m Not There, Arthur Rimbaud: "Je est un autre" ("I is an other&quot. At the most literal level I’m Not There is not a biopic about Dylan, whose name is never mentioned in the film and whose “real” image only appears once at the end. Haynes isn’t interested in supplying a convincing representation of the events of Dylan’s life, nor some conclusive, coherent, emotionally rewarding interpretation of those events.

Yet at the same time, Dylan is everywhere in this film—as its inspiration, as its limit point, as its condition of possibility. The film’s dialogue probably contains more of Dylan’s actual words than we’ve ever heard before at one time. That’s because Haynes is more interested in what Dylan has created than in what his life has been like....

Please.

Also, this "shape-shifter" term is most annoying.

As far as the way one refers to oneself, well, I'm always unsure about that. Different languages frame it differently. I'm not sure if "I'm ...." or "I call myself ..." or "my name is ....".

Bobby is well, Bobby. That's just the familiar way of addressing that person. Of course, to his children he may be "dad" or "pops" or "father dearest". To Sara he may have been "darling" "honey" or "you fucking bastard". Isn't this true for all of us?

I'm not gonna go on about this here.

"Enablers"?

Take a tip from Dylan and soak in everything you can.

Use it wisely.

Acknowledge the Saving Grace that's over you.

4th Time Around Posted: To love all those 'Bobs' equally, at the same time, you'd have to suffer from multiple personality disorder.

That would mean everyone's parents have multiple personality disorder. Think about the person you were at age 7 and all the many things you tried. Are you the same as you are now?? Chances are they are not the same person and yet your parents still probably like you just the same.

Everyone metamorphasizes and changes. Take your job - are you the same person at work that you are at home? Think about your own trial and errors in life and you do you see yourself as a different person?

I'm no fan of Madonna - but look how many times she reinvented herself.

The fact that Dylan tried many different things only shines on his creativity...if the rest of us were only so bold and not so self-conscience or fearful of failure.

I suppose Mr. Dylan is like most of us, we all play different roles in different parts of our lives at different or even at the same time. The thing about Bob is, he has done nearly all his changing in public. It's nigh on impossible to pin down the 'I' in anyone of us. As far as my love for Bob's music goes, I love nearly all his phases and even his heroic failures are fascinating. I can take it all and can't wait for more.

I is another

You're another.

clairdelalune wrote:

QUOTE:
Bobby is well, Bobby. That's just the familiar way of addressing that person. Of course, to his children he may be "dad" or "pops" or "father dearest". To Sara he may have been "darling" "honey" or "you fucking bastard". Isn't this true for all of us?

What you point out probably is true for all of us.
But, accepting that we are regarded in different ways by different people is the easy part.
The really interesting question is, how do we regard ourselves?
or, are there any selves 'there' to be regarded in any way whatsoever?
If 'I' am not 'there', or anywhere at all, what else, apart from inventing a 'self' or many selves, could possibly make sense?
Surely this is the key insight to which Dylan refers in Chronicles?

The "key" insight? I believe his grandma told him.

All this seems to be very familiar to me. I don't know what you've been doing all along.

The hocus-pocus stuff is merely that.

************************************************
4th Time Around wrote:

QUOTE:
Some ramblings triggered by a third viewing of 'I'm Not There', and a subsequent reading of some poems and letters of Arthur Rimbaud.


How many more times can the 'shape-shifter' pull new rabbits out of the hat? You can't put a number on the possible reinventions of the self that are 'Bob Dylan'. What we have seen so far represents a mere fraction of what might have been, but also a lot more than what might have been.

Because he has had the fortune - good or bad? - to live well into his seventh decade, the number of 'Dylans' is greater than it might have been if certain simple (but not really simple at all) twists of fate had turned out otherwise. 'He' could have been the reasonably happy owner of a hardware store in Hibbing, or he might have completed his degree in the University of Minnesota and spent his life teaching, or he could have ended up in a homeless shelter in New York and drunk/drugged himself to death, or become "just another accident statistic".

But countless twists of fate decided otherwise. And so, the never ending self-invention and self-dismantling continue. Because, inevitably, he will not go on forever, the number of 'Dylans' is certainly finite. But the barrel isn't empty yet, by any means. If his life extends into an eighth or ninth decade, expect more 'Bob Dylans', in or out of the public eye. The reinventions are him.

And, how about us, the spectators, the mesmerized, the loyal followers of this 'trapeze artist'?

Do you like Bob Dylan? Are you a Bob Dylan fan?

These questions have always struck me as strange, slightly bizarre, even/especially when I pose them for myself. Which 'Bob Dylan'? Is it possible to be a 'fan' of all of them, without seeming ridiculous? You like 1963's skinny, hobo-kid in the same way you like 2007's slickly attired growling old crooner? You are a fan of 1975's white-faced gypsy troubadour in the same way as you like the smooth dude in the Supper Club in 1993? You love '66 Bob and '81 Bob with equal, or similar passion? You are a fan of all of those sounds, looks, voices, styles, 'philosophies' ...?

To love all those 'Bobs' equally, at the same time, you'd have to suffer from multiple personality disorder. It's a sure bet that 'Bob' doesn't love all of them equally.

To have loved all them in a serial fashion, you'd have to have gone through the same process of continual reinvention as 'Bob' himself. Or, you'd have to have such a weak sense of 'self' that you'd be willing to follow wherever 'he' (or anyone else) decided to take you. (Maybe that explains, in part, why 'he' is so reluctant to have anything to do with 'his' fans.)

Alternatively, perhaps what you/we/I love is the process itself, rather than any particular phase, or any particular content. Perhaps what we love in 'Bob' is the spectacle of someone attempting to do what all of us (somewhere deep down within us) long to do in the course of our own brief lives.

But, have we had the courage to do so? Or, perhaps, we haven't had the kind of 'luck' he certainly had - meeting the van Ronks, Grossmans, Suzes, Joanies and Saras of this world, all of whom acted as 'enablers' for the jokerman. Was all of that a matter of mere luck, or something else?

Have I found my necessary 'enablers', yet? Occasionally? Ever?
Have I been able to 'move on' every time you I, or knew, deep down, that this is what was required? Have I experienced even one, or a few, Dylanesque self-reinventions? Or, am I, for the most part, stuck with what I have, a seemingly one-off hand dealt to me by circumstances, place of birth, family history, accidence and coincidence? Have I opted for the equivalent of a secure hideaway in a hardware store in Hibbing?


Rimbaud (1871 letter to Georges Izambard):

"I louse up myself as much as possible. Why? I want to be a
poet, and I'm working to make myself a Seer: you will not understand at all, and I hardly know how to explain it to you. The point is to arrive at the unknown by the dissoluteness of all the senses. The suffering are enormous, but one has to be strong, to be born poet, and I have recognized myself to be a poet. It is not my fault at all. It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. Pardon the pun.

I is someone else [i]Je est un autre[/i]] ..."


Chronicles: "Robert Johnson's code of language was like nothing I'd heard before or since. To go with all of that, someplace along the line Suze had also introduced me to the poetry of French Symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud. That was a big deal, too. I cam across one of his letters called "Je est un autre", which translates into "I is someone else". When I read those words the bells went off. It made perfect sense. I wished someone would have mentioned that to me earlier...." (p.288)



p.s. for a complete contrast to 'I'm Not There', see 'Control', Anton Corbijn's recent movie about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, led singer of Joy Division. Curtis was a victim of fate's simple twists. Dylan is their (ring)master.

****************************************************************
The only thing I read that poses an essential question is
"Do we have the courage?"

When you have a "weak sense of self". You think that's a negative? Mind you, not a weak "self-image", but when you allow yourself to be a vessel.

You know, the Cartesian model and much of Western philosophy may turn in on itself, but is that the way to go?

There are no Van Ronks, Suzes etc. One Dave graced this earth and one Suze still does. Bobby learned a lot from a lot of women and some men as well.

I could go on and on. The thing is the Spirit.

Whether Bobby chooses to have little to do with his fans or not, I don't know. I can tell you this very aspect of projection onto Dylan is enough to keep anyone at a great distance.