the living art of storytelling in Massachusetts
Storytelling is a kind of propaganda. It's just unauthorized, off-the-record, confidential, something other than The Official Legend.
We are trying to enter the unconscious dream life of strangers, to intervene somehow for the better. This is risky business, no matter how warm and fuzzy we feel about it.
A story has to be confusing, disorienting in some way. Otherwise, it's just boring, a kind of repetitive advertising.
Mortality may be necessary for storytelling.
I don't always identify with the word "story teller." It sounds bureaucratic, like we work at the Bank of Enlightenment, and customers walk up and say “I’d like to take out some Truth, please” and we oblige them “(twenty thirty forty fifty) here’s your truth, have a nice day.”
Not for me thank you. I wanna be a story liberator, a story rescue dog, a story pirate! (Arrrr!) A story bandit, redistributing stolen truth to the people!
I believe in aristocracy. . . — if that is the right word, and if a democrat may use it. Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. They are sensitive for others as well as for themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but the power to endure, and they can take a joke. Again and again Authority, seeing their value, has tried to net them and to utilize them as the Egyptian Priesthood or the Christian Church or the Chinese Civil Service or the Group Movement, or some other worthy stunt. But they slip through the net and are gone. -EM Forster