American author (1931-1989)
At night I drank and my hostility came roaring out if its cave like a jet-assisted banshee.
DONALD BARTHELME
"Critique de la Vie Quotidienne"
When computers learn how to make jokes, artists will be in serious trouble.
DONALD BARTHELME
"Not-Knowing"
Can the life of the time be caught in an advertisement? Is that how it is, really, in the meadows of the world?
DONALD BARTHELME
"The Party"
Show me a man who has not married a hundred times and I’ll show you a wretch who does not deserve God’s good world.
DONALD BARTHELME
"Overnight to Many Distant Cities"
What an artist does, is fail. Any reading of the literature... (I mean the literature of artistic creation), however summary, will persuade you instantly that the paradigmatic artistic experience is that of failure. The actualization fails to meet, equal, the intuition. There is something “out there” which cannot be brought “here”. This is standard. I don’t mean bad artists, I mean good artists. There is no such thing as a “successful artist” (except, of course, in worldly terms).
DONALD BARTHELME
"The Sandman"
Carrying over into private life attitudes that have been successful in the field of public administration is not, perhaps, a good idea.
DONALD BARTHELME
"The Party"
I worked for newspapers. I worked for newspapers at a time when I was not competent to do so. I reported inaccurately. I failed to get all the facts. I misspelled names. I garbled figures. I wasted copy paper. I pretended to know things I did not know. I pretended to understand things beyond my understanding. I oversimplified. I was superior to things I was inferior to. I misinterpreted things that took place before me. I over- and underinterpreted what took place before me. I suppressed news the management wanted suppressed. I invented news the management wanted invented. I faked stories. I failed to discover the truth. I colored the truth with fancy. I had no respect for the truth. I failed to heed the adage, you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free. I put lies in the paper. I put private jokes in the paper. I wrote headlines containing double entendres. I wrote stories while drunk. I abused copy boys. I curried favor with advertisers. I accepted gifts from interested parties. I was servile with superiors. I was harsh with people who called on the telephone seeking information. I gloated over police photographs of sex crimes. I touched type when the makeups weren’t looking. I took copy pencils home. I voted with management in Guild elections.
DONALD BARTHELME
"Brain Damage"