wrong conversation
you see
without kerouac i don’t know
what would’ve become of me
maybe i’d have become some office drone
or a teacher living in the suburbs
with a wife
and two kids that i hate
or i would’ve stayed in the warehouse.
it was his message and that verse
that got me
it’s what i tried to emulate for years
or recreate in my own stuff
the exuberance
the joy
but i’ve never been a joyful person
i’m spiteful and mean most
of the time
i never saw things with any kind
of holy glee
humanity has been a horror to me
ever since i was a child
and that might be why
i picked up bukowski
and fante, and all of those stone cold
others
why i like ray carver stories
i don’t know
that stuff just seemed real to me
raw
like their guts were spilled out
on the street
instead of being stuffed up buddha’s asshole
don’t get me wrong
i still love kerouac
and i still get that tingle of youth
when i read on the road
it’s ginsberg and corso
burroughs
and all the rest
that i can do without now.
and don’t get me started on gary snyder.
i just don’t care for that
holy
holy
holy
shit anymore.
that’s nice, she said,
but can we get back to talking
about why
you don’t want to
go to dinner
with my family
and your family
next friday night?
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2 comments:
The conversation, with myriad variations, that we've all had at sometime or the other - I think I'll put a copy of this in the case with "Home for the Holidays" for when I get in my dysfunctional holiday mood ... which is starting ... right ... about ... now, dammit!
Thanks for this one.
don,
mine too. i just dont understand why we all put ourselves through this business at this time of the year.
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