I'VE NEVER READ ANY KEROUAC
A dirty secret that i've kept to myself, and have decided to reveal now, in blog land.
To be honest, i'm not a fan of much of the works the fall under the heading "Beat Generation."
Another dirty little secret.
Burroughs depressed me, Ginsberg was lofty, and reading them was more tedium than pleasure.
I never made it to Kerouac -- the other authors of this trifecta leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth.
Despite my pragmatic and sarcastic tendencies, i find it difficult to really absorb the nuances of the austere unfiltered prose that typifies "beat" authors. I prefer my fiction to rest securely in a comfort zone of known emotions and experiences, where even grim realities have an umbra of enchantment around them.
"Beat" novels have a rawness that admittedly make me uneasy.
I'm an idealist i suppose. If i was a painter i'd probably be a part of the impressionist movement. Details are fine, if they're left a little hazy.
Tonight i was challenged to give Kerouac a chance -- "you listen to jazz - how can you not read kerouac?" -- And i'm going to pick up the gauntlet. I've ordered On the Road, Kerouac's magnum opus and a beat generation essential. Once it arrives, i shall endeavor to read it with an open mind. Even if i hate it, it will look nice on my bookshelf. It screams depth, a trait that could be disputed given my penchant for the odd harlequin romance.
...
So the past four days have been beautiful, and have really got me amped for summer. Forgive the predictable metaphor - but spring/summer is the season where i bloom. Only thing is the bugs. I believe i've blogged about my bug intolerance before, and, well, in case you were wondering, that hasn't changed. I grilled yesterday and totally spazzed out when something flew past me. I'm not even sure what it was, but it had wings and it made a buzzing noise, and really that's all needed for a certified freak out(le freak c'est chic!) moment.
Bugs are the worst things about outdoors. If it weren't for them i'd be outside every waking moment this time of year. Instead when i go out i'm dodging everything from the insect family. The worst is when the flying ones go past my ears. I can't stand when they go past my ears.
As i'm writing this there is a bee in my bedroom that has been here since Saturday afternoon. Yes, Saturday. The moment i noticed that i had an uninvited guest was captured on film -
- Moments after this shot was taken i jumped up squealing and scared that i might get stung. As of this print i have not been stung by a bee since 1984 in what i've dubbed the "big wheel incident". I'd like to keep it that way.
He appears at random times to incite fear and terror, only to disappear again once i finally get up the nerve to get a shoe and kill him. I wish he would fly to another part of my house, but he seems to like it here. I leave my bedroom door open, kind of like a broad hint, but everytime i think he's gone --
"bzzzzzzzzz"
Its been a long three days.
Robbie Nevil - C'est La Vie