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Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Random thoughts on alcohol and men bigger than beasts.

Wilco is talking about dragging blankets blindly and filling hearts with smoke and how to fight loneliness and I think it's not loneliness that weighs heavy on my soul but the exact opposite. I have so many memories, moments in time that will not go away, and whoever claimed that alcohol was a form of escapism was something of an empty headed buffoon, and I use the phrase 'empty headed' with good cause, because that's exactly what you would have to be if you thought that, even in some abstract way, alcohol was escapist; for me, it invigorates and emphasises as opposed to a dragging of your sorry soul to a safe distance. I recall Bukowski, on stage reading his poems to the flabby mass of pseudo-intellectuals, going glug-glug-glug at the wine, and he turned to his audience and motioned to the empty bottles and said "it's not a prop, it's a necessity".
A necessity.
His readings were something else. I have some on CD if anyone is remotely...you know.
There's no pattern to this entry, really. I wonder if that makes me post-modern or, better still, post-post-modern.
There never was a 'modern' in the first place, you know. Don't let anyone tell you different. And the term 'post', attached to anything, is cringeworthy. So-called intellectuals use it as a lazy and half-hearted bypassing of actual discussion. It's easy to claim that a particular piece of fiction is 'post-structuralist' or 'post-ideology' or post-whatever. What they really mean is that they have picked up a few loose terms bandied about academia, and applied them to absolutely everything without ever giving a coherent and concrete reason as to WHY something is post this or that.
A spider is crawling at a snails pace along the frame of the door, but that's ok.
That's ok.
Spring is here, and so is war.

Posted by paul

Replies: Oh! Someone!