Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I just watched a film about Jack Kerouac hanging out in Big Sur. I always get a mixed feeling from Jack Kerouac. Like Favourite Game era Leonard Cohen, who changes direction so often he's shallow and infuriating, but does it with such a whole-hearted and convincing ferocity that he becomes heroic and reassuring. Its the kind of hopeful hopelessness that makes me go 'round
The thing that struck me most was Tom Waits saying that reading J.K. makes him sad, because he knows if the same kid were to be raised up now, they'd just put him on the ritalin and he'd be 'fine'. "Here, Jack, we'll take you to A.A. and you'll be fine. You'll never write another line again but you'll be fine... just fine." Terrifying. Heartfelt. Reassuring.
The first half of the movie made you want to spend the rest of your life with your own personal Neil Cassidy, drinking sweet red wine from jugs on American west-coast beaches. The rest made you terrified that of the mug of sweet-wine in your own left hand might undo you like it undid him.
One of the talking heads in the film described Kerouac (and life, perhaps) as a man who was trying to ride a motorcycle as fast as he could, but he had 'this big catholic parachute' out the back. Isn't it.
Carolyn Mark, on a record that isn't out yet, will say something like:
Everybody is back stage on their laptop drinking smoothies,
Its all about behaving, and it sure in like the movies.
I think somehow this all ties together.
To the beach...