… nothing so much as a Monty Python sketch from 40 years ago. Says something about the state of our civics.
One of the funniest parts about writers like Paddy Chayevsky, who wrote “Network’s” great “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” line, is that their schtick is self-fulfilling prophecy. That line is still parroted by millions as some kind of rallying cry, even as he clearly intended it as the […]
“The only thing I had left in those days was poetry… The artist does not live in bliss.” – Joan Miro A brilliant painter seeks refuge somewhere – anywhere – during the rollercoaster of horrors that became the 20th Century. The ladders he paints seem to be wishes for absolute creative freedom, even amid totalitarian […]
I wrote a story – one of my better fiction pieces – at the tail end of this summer, a good part of it on my peaceful vacation. For such a tale of loathing and decay, it was paradoxically perfect to write it in amid the cool night breeze of Long Beach Island. The story […]
Just to prove Art can have no craft whatsoever, and run simply on infectious madness – and infectious madness alone.
Walk In silence. Don’t turn away In silence. No confusion My illusion But like a mask of self-hate Confronts and then dies. Don’t walk away.
As a writer, the power of the Interwebs is nearly limitless. One can become a fake expert in any manner of things in moments, ready to dazzle and amaze the gullible in mere moments. If I want to learn to grow radishes in the rocky soil of my yard, I can consult some well-mannered blog. […]
Just days ago a friend from the past died overnight, in his early 30s. It was a shock. Whatever the cause and whatever the reason, it is another reminder that life is fleeting, and precious, and sacred, and… etc. There is no other answer, no deeper meaning, short of finding a higher power or purpose. […]
Really, John Berryman was haunted by his own damned self. I’d love to hear a psychoanalytic work-up of his mind, which apparently had at least three personages arguing, joking, picking up each other’s bar tabs — and ultimately goading each other over the edge of a frozen Minneapolis bridge on Jan. 7, 1972 (ten years […]
I wonder if the various people in my past would agree – would identify ‘the infection.” Or if ‘wanting to die’ is nowhere near as sonorous and glorious as Miss Sexton makes it seem here.
A long time ago in an America far far away, smart people engaged in popular wrangling matches that were more entertaining than any Wrestlemania to date. As an aside, I miss Americans like Buckley who speak British and New Yorkers like Mailer who celebrate their megalomania.
I read the best American novel of this century earlier this year: Europe Central by William T. Vollmann. It’s a tour-de-force that’s admittedly flawed and spackled, pitted and teetering page by page, as the author confides in the notes. However, the interview (in Germany, no less!) brings one of the more interesting philosophical aspects of […]
Anyone that believes that mankind has the potential to reach a perfect and harmonious rationality is obviously blissfully unaware of the Internet’s awesome potential giving way to nothing more than “Two Girls, One Cup” and a bunch of college plagiarism.
You don’t always win. Just ask good ol’ Dmitri.
I suppose that could happen. But as I write my novel – the fifth, with far and beyond the most indignation and unified sense of purpose – I realize we ain’t got that kind of power, yo. The most can be hoped it we justify our own ravings to our own souls. (?)
You decide. These fellows really don’t get any of the credit they deserve. I’m proud to say I shook Angry Johnny’s hand way back in 2006, and have avoided washing it whenever possible ever since.
Something about the pungent fresh-cut grass – the play of sunlight on the porch here, and the rumbling highway at the bottom of my ridge leading to the east and south and, eventually, down to the seaside. The life teems through the yard into the shade of the copse along the stone wall – with […]
To all those who would pick up arms, and in so doing… jot down a few funky lines.