I finished my homework early this weekend, so ive had some time to read fiction!
I went to bed early-ish last night and for whatever god-forsaken reason got up at 5:30 this morning. I finished Murakami's "The Elephant Vanishes", went for a walk, and read a hundred pages into Kafka's "The Castle". I can see why people would call it and "The Trial" companion pieces, for the idea of the helpless individual in mutant beaurocracy.
In a strange way, I see Murakami, Kafka, and Keroac (I've been reading "On the Road" at a slow but steady pace) as very similar authors in some way--"sharing the table" as Cheolseung describes it. All three deal with the strangeness and utter inexplicability of life, albeit in very different ways. Keroac seems to have an approach that is almost "Fight Club" in its chaotic, destructive enjoyment of life, the complete submission and celebration of its arbitratiness. For Kafka, on the other hand, it's a terrifying thing, a weight of mindless beaurocratic, machine-like inhumanity that destroys his characters, as optimistic and full of fight as they try to be. Murakami is both the most complicated and simplest. He does not revel in the strangeness, nor does it destroy him. He rather has an uneasy truce with it, an uncomfortable comfort like a man sitting at a fireside reading a newspaper who realizes that his dog at his feet is actually a wolf--but a full wolf.
This weekend has been nice and laid back, and I'm looking forward to classes starting again.
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Upcoming: Romeo & Juliet, Forum Theatre, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
A Californian, a Scot, and a Shanghainese walk into a bar...
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Upcoming: Romeo & Juliet, Forum Theatre, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
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Soft Night
silent graffiti
sprawling words stretched out on cream pink walls
spattered from on high by the seagulls
that freewheeled and caw-cawed through aharsh pink sky
still graffiti
a motionless oasis
in violence, silent. calm,
but eagerly longing for discovery:
notice me!
here! I am out of place
no whitewashed walls
a monument TO MAN’S INGENUITY
no pyramids of the metropolis
only the loving work of boys
somewhere between testament and confession
they who posses nothing
but are the property of adults
spray themselves out on other adult property
this is mine! until the paint
is covered by another layer
dogs piss at a fire hydrant
silent graffiti
crackling ground under Nikes
and from
far off
the whirr of sirens.
4 comments:
'sharing a table'....sounds quite romantic in a silent movie way. huh!
I like the image of Murakami with his dog whose really a wolf. I'll have to read him. Kafka does a good job of showing how the bureaucracy crushes the individual. The Dark side is obvious.
But the Dark side of Kerouac and his hero in "On the Road", I forget the characters name, is harder to see because in its celebration of anarchic individuality, it is so American. The Dark side of that is an utter selfishness, a self-absorption so complete that there is no ability to empathize with "the other". As you know, Kerouac's hero is based on the real-life Neal Cassidy, Allen Ginsberg's on and off lover - a psychpath - a people user, who periodically dumped Kerouac or Allen whenever he got bored and could barely be bothered to pay attention to his wives, girlfriends or children. The romantic vision, the very American vision of the Road is a kind boundless, no-strings-attached, moviable feast. But, it's a road to nowhere, a hamster wheel for narcissistic gerbils.
bry, so glad you're not high and dry this weekend. the snob in me has always known that you would rather read than drink... I had thought you dropped K... his psychosis is really much too interesting...
Artdroid's point on American Narcissism is well taken... although Utopian movements from the Quakers to the Davidians provide noteworthy exceptions... but we'll save that for a dinner conversation later.
hey! i just figured out how to stop being "Anonymous"...I know, its a small step for mankind, but a giant leap for me!
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