Who it’s truly attributed to I’m altogether unsure as I’ve never heard it worded in such a manner before; but driving along the I-90 while listening to Smashing Pumpkins singer and tea shop owner Billy Corgan’s podcast, the guest Jeff Baxter explains, “Kill the demon, kill the muse,” in a somewhat humorous delivery albeit, but it is an intriguing statement to consider. It’s word-play which uses what is understood to be their implications both definitionally; and doubling as trigger for introspective investigation.
Muses being odd, mysterious entities of addictive intrigue which inspire passion and as a result act, like Carl Jung put it, as conduits to one’s own unconscious. The concept of a muse being like that of an artistic guiding angel; with there being nine different representative deities paired with such outlets in Greek mythology. Paired then with the word demon as also used in the statement, a word that also has its origin in the Greek sphere with the etymology tracing to the classical ‘damōn’, meaning a, ‘spirit, divine power or attendant supernatural entity,’ not intrinsically implying evil. However the typical and generally understood connotation of the word is malevolent; similar in tended contextual imagining in some regard to a heroin addict scratching around, thumping and searching for an unpinched vein— or more charitably: drawing on a pain for power, like Kylo Ren hitting his bowcaster-blast-wounded side for aided anger and sustaining imbued byproduct energy in The Force Awakens, as fuel for passion. Adrenaline. Inspiration, motivation and creation. Not getting over it more psychodramatically medicating in order to stagnate and stay in the preferred, wired state as it has such a divine, driving hold…
For many it’s a drink or drug— absinthe or horse tranquilizers, what have you; added in then fugue consumption of carnal connections. An addictive informant; as simple as coffee or orgasmic as convulsing, ejaculatory deprivation with and in added domination. Van Gogh had his absinthe, Lynch his American Spirit cigarettes while Darby Crash and Kurt Cobain had their heroin and WWII troops were amped up on methamphetamine. I think of the line from Frank Iero’s song Joyriding: “I hate my weaknesses, they made me who I am,” and then in association with a position I’ve taken to regarding Anton LaVey’s list of 9 ill-advised behaviors, “Satanic Sins,” are themselves somewhat unavoidable, naturally occurring tendencies. With that in mind, the list is (as divulged) more an outline of behaviors which would tend to negatively impact one’s livelihood in practice. That said, they all stem from the first named, being a statement of distaste for stupidity. Idiocy is a broad spectrum even with observable and stereotypical characteristics and with the fact we neither know or understand as much as we do— even with what is, being quite a substantial amount— is as natural as any other egocentric drift. “All I know is that I don’t know,” spoke a philosopher of old; echoed then thousands of years later and added onto phrase by an East Bay Area punk scene staple Operation Ivy for the tellingly titled song Knowledge; emphatically and crassly they spit out, “and that’s fine!”
What’s known seems layered, built up like an onion. Accumulated understanding, as Ayn Rand described in her poignant book Philosophy: Who Needs It, occurs with instinct paired with long years of gathered experience and knowledge with conscious ability to comprehend it all. It’s like a seed growing into a tree; and the rings tell of its years of growth. Feigned if not outright idiocy could be beneficial to the individual, but in that it’s an act; but how much credibility does the phrase ‘fake it till you make it’ stretch in practice? Getting beyond the point though, as the idea of killed motivation and inspiration occurring as a result of removing a tool become creative crutch; the redirecting of sublimation after getting into a habitual, addictive rhythm is where the issue lies.
Then, with that the muse is this perceived as divine addiction which fuel a perpetuated existence. What is a great chain reaction if not one of the quickest bursts? As it gets said in Christopher Nolan’s seminal film biographical adaptation Oppenheimer, “the greater the star, the more violent its demise.”— A nuclear bomb only explodes for a set few moments, the fallout and radiation aftermath then reverberates as with the produced work in conjunction with the muse. Trauma, memory of the bomb and looming shadow of its fear-inducing plume, then becomes a muse; and the lived pains of radiation then become motivating reminders. Leading then to the Emil Cioran-inspired question of could artistic outlet be visible verbiage crafted as a suitable expression of one’s own instances of misery? Observable time immemorial from poets in the trenches of World War One and hiding in Vietnam under attack by napalm; retired Roman centurion soldiers turned master sculptors and cavemen etching their battle for survival with a mammoth like slaves structuring story telling songs about their unpaid indentured labor…. Demon can be an uncomfortably addictive innovator.
Cigarettes, liquor and sexually explicit self medication
Malignant motivation
Dressed, stressed revolutionary
Iconoclastic innovative attempts.
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