Clevercino
Ryan is a cousin of my wife's without blood. I don't know how else you'd describe him. His mother is close to my wife's family and he is a stranger, but one who could walk through our door and be part of our lives anytime he chose.
He makes coffee art. I'd never heard of it until my wife mentioned he did it. In rich countries people run out of things to spend their money on, I suppose. If that seems pretentious, check his blog. It's very clever, but I don't think a lot of it is quite true.
It is age, I think, that teaches us that cleverness without insight is as useless and ephemeral as sculpted foam on a cappa. I don't mean to be cynical, but I see it so often: men -- nearly always men, because women don't need to wish to be seen as sensitive -- who think the smart gesture is what counts. Writers who deploy broken, twisted metaphors that do not illuminate; artists who think it is enough to speak, and forget that the art lies in having something to say; musicians who chase the unlistenable edge and lose all sight of the heart, without which music is nothing.
Clever is easy. That is what these boys do not know. Anyone with an IQ in three figures and a quick mind can do clever.
What good does it do me to say this, though? What good does it do to know it? The world rewards clever sometimes, because the world is full of people who are waiting to be told how dumb they are -- so wrongly! If only they had the faith in themselves that I believe they merit. But wishing a beautiful world will not build one and telling people that they are not so dumb and the clever not so clever never did make happy work.
posted by Dr Zen @ 6:14 pm
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