human spirit.
I've never been to interested in reading any literature from "the beat generation". I've opened up a Ginsberg book, but I'm generally not a big fan of poems, there are some I get into, but not usually. It's kind of like theater, I can appreciate it, but ultimately, I have a hard time enjoying it. I could never go to poetry readings, watching people read their own poetry is awkward. I'll read their poems on my own so I can assuage the stretch for convictions which I feel like poets strive too hard for when reading their own poems. I bought "On The Road" recently and I'm starting to read it now, so far it seems fun. On the back of the book, where they usually place small quotes from praising reviews, I saw that they mention the phrase "human spirit" a few times, and I started to think about how one would identify the human spirit today, or even back then. When I think of human spirit, I think of it as something that is completely suppressed and buried under the will and necessity to succeed. So I immediately see that my ideas of human spirit and utility in today's society are at odds with each other. Human spirit shows itself in bursts of exception, or in displays of what could be considered irresponsibility. I feel like America has developed in such a way that the thirst for experiencing, or being infected with "human spirit" (in the romantic sense) is something that may actually be quenched through actions that compromise a security which perhaps you have worked for your whole life. Displaying "human spirit"...like it is depicted by "Into The Wild"...what a dramatic attempt to capture something that is so illusive. Today, I don't know what to consider the "human spirit", but I do feel like it's becoming a valuable thing to have, and hard to attain or hold onto, especially as one moves through life, although, thinking that way may expose my naivety in a way. Why is the notion of the "human spirit" restricted to youthful rebellion or even idealized nihilism, why is the human spirit connected to leaps of faith, or metaphoric intoxication. It's ideas like this that pose the threat of having a lonely life filled with people and experience that end up providing nothing but anecdotes, cinematic memories, and a poets idea of love. Why do I feel like the human spirit exists as an ideal that is juxtaposed with a sober discipline to "succeed" in today's America? I can only imagine that the years in which I have lived restrict and manipulate ideas which I am exposed to only through literature or movies. I wonder if "wisdom" is merely having a peace of mind with complacency and resignation, and supported by a few anecdotes.
1 Comments:
I fucking hate poetry...but I write it. Mainly, I hate reading overly romantic depictions of nature and love. I think that's why I dig Bukowski so much. He tends to go to the darkest places of the human spirit. The most base, vile & honest parts of what we are when all of the social contextualization and flowery language and need for acceptance disappear. It's anti-poetry.
That's my official Bukowski plug for the day.
10:16 AM
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