So I've seen a lot of art lately that seems to be about making these oblique connections with information. Maybe it's because there's so much information everywhere that the beauty made from arranging it in unique and clever ways is similar to the beauty of seeing an art piece made out of trash or throw away objects. I can't help but be reminded of the alien's art in Slaughter House Five. It's been a while since I've read it but the way I remember it is artists in the 4th dimension arrange random moments so that when perceived at once the disparate parts become beautiful and connected.
Usually I have dreams that I can flatten into nice little narratives, but the one last night was too strange to explain. It was a different world with different rules. But at one point I was trying to remember these lines from the W.H. Auden Poem September 1, 1939:
I don't think I've read that poem since 11th grade Honors English class. The only parts I could recite or half remember in my dream, and I was trying so desperately to tell someone, where: "The lights must never go out/the music must always play/Children afraid of the night/ who have never been happy or good/not universal love/but to be loved alone."