Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Provincetown 30

Been busy working and playing. My workshop was last week. Sure got to read and discuss a lot of great poetry like Blake and Comer and Denis Johnson and Jorie Graham. The workshop knocked me off line with the novel, though. I need to work myself back into the fever. Stopped by Tim's Used Bookstore and bought a collection of Jack Kerouac's letters, edited by Ann Charters. Amazing read. He makes me fall in love with writing all over again and again and again and again. Remarkable to think he was born in 1922 and died in 1969. He is forever young in my mind.

3 comments:

ggw07 said...

They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
Jack Kerouac, On the Road, 1957

This quote was adopted by Apple marketing campaign...
Gretchen

Theresa Williams said...

Gretchen, really? JK would have hated that.

Erkin said...

Lovely reading...

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Dreaming

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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Fave Painting: Eden

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Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

From the First Chapter

The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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My Original Artwork:  Triptych

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