Thanks so much, Thomas. I'm not in the same league as Johnson or Chee of course but that phrase about writing for survival really strikes a chord. Writing about the attack didn't resolve everything about it for me, but it did give me a kind of container in which to stash my current feelings for a bit.
Speaking of a container in which to put one's feelings/learning/realizations, etc., I love your drawing of a tree. I've read "How to Read Nature," but I might have <ahem> not been quite so good of a student and skipped that assignment. I'll have to go back and re-read and do it properly this time. :)
I look forward to seeing your tree. I'm going to write the short story ... Nanowrimo may have to wait. I'm not feeling it. I'm in a beautiful place and enjoying it is paramount.
I’m thrilled that you’re in a beautiful place rn, and I can’t wait to read the cool, shady-in-a-good-way story that grows from such strong roots. Nanowrimo -- I mean, I’m just bullshitting here, I’ve never tried it -- but it does seem like it could end up feeling pretty frantic and not actually conducive to good writing? The tree on the other hand -- that looks perfect.
Jesus Son is one of those books that took me years to overcome a kneejerk cringe reaction to. Living in a liberal arts university town that once had a storied writing program (that still lumbers on, if a shadow of its former self), I've endured waves of young white MFA bros trying to convince me that this book is the be all, end all of books ever written. Same attitude comes with Infinite Jest. I've made peace with JS after a fairly recent re-read, even as I still consider it overrated ... but my far and away favorite Denis Johnson jam is Train Dreams.
I have to agree. It's powerful but it seems like sheltered rich white people love it because they don't know a bunch of people who've survived this life. Johnson is a great writer and I think Train Dreams deserved more acclaim.
I've got in it my Netflix queue. I learned this late because the Rutgers U English program was run by dinosaurs. We didn't read anyone contemporary. Or have any teachers who had published fiction in 20 years. I did get to meet Amiri Baraka, that was great, and changed how I felt about poetry.
Of all the things that might be considered enviable about where I live, I never thought one of them would be the fact that I can count half a dozen decent not-dead, not-creepy malls within reasonable driving distance (which in rural massachusetts = ~less than 1.5 hours drive.) Where the hell do other places keep apple stores?
Nostalgia for stuff I was around for from people who weren't is funny: my own reactions as much as theirs. Because when they're waxing rhapsodic about 1986 or whatever I'm like 'Hey, I'm from then! ok here's the thing, no-one needs to play Slippery When Wet ever ever ever again, they used up all those notes, they're gone' or 'okay I get mall nostalgia but I'm tellin you: without Mall HAIR you're missing a key piece of essential authenticity, McFly.'
it's just eyerolls.
My native frickin insight earns me no cred.
I feel like I'm babysitting except I'm not getting paid
I think they miss the sense of community, and we don't get that at malls today because we're all looking at our phones. On the other hand, I was hanging out with kids who were talking with friends via FaceTime and it was like stretching the phone cord around the house like we did back then. There's still connection. I think the people into mallwave and Outrun are older, college age, who escape into this like we did with books and chatrooms.
Thanks so much, Thomas. I'm not in the same league as Johnson or Chee of course but that phrase about writing for survival really strikes a chord. Writing about the attack didn't resolve everything about it for me, but it did give me a kind of container in which to stash my current feelings for a bit.
Speaking of a container in which to put one's feelings/learning/realizations, etc., I love your drawing of a tree. I've read "How to Read Nature," but I might have <ahem> not been quite so good of a student and skipped that assignment. I'll have to go back and re-read and do it properly this time. :)
I look forward to seeing your tree. I'm going to write the short story ... Nanowrimo may have to wait. I'm not feeling it. I'm in a beautiful place and enjoying it is paramount.
I’m thrilled that you’re in a beautiful place rn, and I can’t wait to read the cool, shady-in-a-good-way story that grows from such strong roots. Nanowrimo -- I mean, I’m just bullshitting here, I’ve never tried it -- but it does seem like it could end up feeling pretty frantic and not actually conducive to good writing? The tree on the other hand -- that looks perfect.
Jesus Son is one of those books that took me years to overcome a kneejerk cringe reaction to. Living in a liberal arts university town that once had a storied writing program (that still lumbers on, if a shadow of its former self), I've endured waves of young white MFA bros trying to convince me that this book is the be all, end all of books ever written. Same attitude comes with Infinite Jest. I've made peace with JS after a fairly recent re-read, even as I still consider it overrated ... but my far and away favorite Denis Johnson jam is Train Dreams.
I have to agree. It's powerful but it seems like sheltered rich white people love it because they don't know a bunch of people who've survived this life. Johnson is a great writer and I think Train Dreams deserved more acclaim.
Have you seen the film of JESUS' SON?
I don't remember much about it, except that I really enjoyed it, and the soundtrack was great.
"Resuscitation of a Hanged Man" is also a recommended read: New England noir set largely on Cape Cod in the offseason.
I've got in it my Netflix queue. I learned this late because the Rutgers U English program was run by dinosaurs. We didn't read anyone contemporary. Or have any teachers who had published fiction in 20 years. I did get to meet Amiri Baraka, that was great, and changed how I felt about poetry.
Thanks for sharing the New Yorker piece. By an odd coincidence (?) I've had "Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves" stuck in my head for over a week now.
Gotta go chop up the trinity and stir me some roux. Have a great Sunday!
Of all the things that might be considered enviable about where I live, I never thought one of them would be the fact that I can count half a dozen decent not-dead, not-creepy malls within reasonable driving distance (which in rural massachusetts = ~less than 1.5 hours drive.) Where the hell do other places keep apple stores?
Nostalgia for stuff I was around for from people who weren't is funny: my own reactions as much as theirs. Because when they're waxing rhapsodic about 1986 or whatever I'm like 'Hey, I'm from then! ok here's the thing, no-one needs to play Slippery When Wet ever ever ever again, they used up all those notes, they're gone' or 'okay I get mall nostalgia but I'm tellin you: without Mall HAIR you're missing a key piece of essential authenticity, McFly.'
it's just eyerolls.
My native frickin insight earns me no cred.
I feel like I'm babysitting except I'm not getting paid
I think they miss the sense of community, and we don't get that at malls today because we're all looking at our phones. On the other hand, I was hanging out with kids who were talking with friends via FaceTime and it was like stretching the phone cord around the house like we did back then. There's still connection. I think the people into mallwave and Outrun are older, college age, who escape into this like we did with books and chatrooms.