People who have heard my 2-voice poem Sinatra Walks Out sometimes ask me what have I got against Frank Sinatra. We think of art-making as this sublime, uplifiting, transformative process. Which it is - for the artist . But for everyone else, an artist making art is more like a hyena eating a dog. There's nothing to do but get out of the way til it's finished.
Most artists know the coldness of the nucleus around which their talent spins.
Some warn innocent people away, like Lon Chaney, Jr. in the old Wolfman movies. Others isolate themselves rather than subject people to the appalling selfishness that artistic output requires. Then there are those who, either out of sheer perversity or their own neurotic needs, act like jerks and just expect everyone else to put up with it. And everyone does, usually in proportion to the artist's perceived talent or profitability. It is in this category that we find Frank Sinatra - and ourselves, the rest of the world.