Why mystery?

This is apropos of nothing... the muse walked up behind me and politely informed me that I would be writing this down.

...and that’s the thing about mystery. Mystery is what allowed him to be something other than a person. Of *course* there’s a person behind the phenomenon of the performer, and that person has a real name, and a real life, and internal organs and everything else, but that’s not the point. The mystery is what allows it to all work... to see an *entity* that’s a musical genius that doesn’t have to be quite human, and that just adds to it and makes it all okay.

Sure, you could look around and find out his real name. I’m sure that it would be trivial to find out the facts of his existence.... but what would you gain? A little bit of knowledge that you found out something? That his name is John Smith or something else? That he has feet of clay? We *all* have feet of clay. It is the mystery that allows as to transcend beyond that... to engage in the consensual hallucination that with the actions we take, each and every one of very small beings who are *us* can be something that is not bounded by the physical limitations of our surroundings, by becoming something *more* in the eyes brains hopes and dreams of everyone we touch.

There will be no there, there. You will find exactly what you expect, and that will be the saddest thing I’ve heard all week.