Reading 'the beatiful and the damned' makes me feel complexed. fitzgerald gives english the depth of french of russian, his words create a picture so nuanced as to be difficult to imagine at times. in a way its paradoxical, i have to re-read some lines, while others paint a picture so clear as to make it competitive with visual art. he makes me wonder what happened to contemporary literature, is language atrophying? is evolution of language like evolution of fashion? where are the fitzgeralds of our time? perhaps it is a naive question, but can language, much like fashion, go out of style? if so, i think we might be losing something worthwhile. i can't stop but think that perhaps all these trends, like simple lines in fashion, contemporary art trends (read: squares and circles, at times even overlapping!), 'modern' language is nothing but a elaborate cover-up for a lack of something to say, lack of skill, and maybe even a lack of emotion. looking at the exibit at the modern art museum of paris homme pare, i couldn't help but think that we've regressed. even the gian galianos of this world do not at times compare to the old school craftsmanship, unpretentious, elaborate, timeconsuming, unique. being honest with myself, i wish i could be fitzgerald rather than our contemporaries.