As I have shared once or twice, the Beats, to me, are culturally important because they represent the moment that America became split. Yes, of course Woody Guthrie sang his songs, of course FDR was surrounded by Communists and Fascists, of course Hemingway and Faulkner and others came back from Europe a bit different, a bit touched. Bloomsbury had had its day, and the Fabian Society had been founded. Yes to all this.
But still, the Beats really brought nonconformity into conformity. They created the template by which you could belong by not belonging. This was the beginning of the 1960’s.
And most of them were fuckups. Cassady, according to some of the women who knew him, was a sociopath, Kerouac was an alcoholic who spent long stretches living with his mother and sister, who was in love with Cassady. Ginsberg and Burroughs were both pedophiles. Burroughs was one of these highly unattractive rich kids who went wrong. He was apparently earning his money for a time as a fence and a literal “hold up your hands and give me your money or I shoot” mugger in the subways of New York. This before he shot his wife, and used the rich kid money his father sent to avoid a murder rap.
All this, in pursuit of prose which taught: something very close to nothing, where not positively pernicious.
Ginsbergs mother was clinically insane, but need the best minds of his generation have gone insane? I don’t think so. Alduous Huxley, as one example, was doing and writing some genuinely interesting things at roughly the same time, without, as far as I know–this is something I need to move on to, actually–being an obnoxious prick.
I will read Howl again. I will likely read Kadddish. But that Ginsburg was a NAMBLA supporter tells me all I really need to know about his ethics, and his mental health.
Here is the thing: I read about somebody like Slim Brundage, and I kind of like the guy. His College of Complexes sold itself as “The Playground for People who Think”. He said “there are No Trespassing signs on the minds of men as well as on real estate”.
Me, I like some creative anarchy from time to time. I still like to get drunk. I believe strongly that we all need some form of “insanity” from time to time to remain sane.
But we need to do a much better job of pivoting from sanity to insanity and back again. The Beats pivoted to insanity and stayed there. This is not, and was not helpful.
But what if, as one example, it became routine for everyone to spend one week three times a year in retreat, where they do Ayuahasca or deep meditation? What if?
People criticize the “Capitalist System” as if it had anything to do with cultural norms. This is stupid. Greed is and always has been the dominant motivation of people in large systems everywhere. Capitalism, so called, merely makes it useful, creative, and generative of new wealth for all.
But our very wealth could be used for things like this. If we ever fix our monetary system, this would become possible. And I am not talking Soma and mood organs. I am talking direct experience of elevated states which show the inherent value and meaning of this human existence.
It was sad, for me, when I picked up some of the magazines at City Lights and read them. One was Adbusters, as I recall. In the first 20 pages or so, flipping through I objected to nothing. They talked about AI being used to manipulate people. This concerns me too. They talked about the vacuity of consumer society. Again, I am right there with you. I think they even talked about government spying and surveillance programs. Ditto. This SHOULD be a bipartisan, let’s put our differences aside for a moment to fix this, sort of issue. But we remain divided. Sooner or later, they started talking shit about Trump, the lunacy of his “regime”, etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, ad seriously are you this stupidum.
I continue to dream. I saw a fantastic picture of Belisarius, after he had been blinded, at the Getty, which I will get at some point. I am going to get a wooden placard which reads COURAGE on it.
On my other wall, in my bedroom also, I will put a wooden sign which reads FAITH. I have Matisse’s “Thousand and one nights”, the text on which apparently reads, in French, “She saw the morning light begin to pierce the night. She discreetly grew silent.”
Imagine not just the talent, but the faith required to be Sheherezade. In some ways, this story is awful. She marries a man who has killed a thousand women. But she, herself, puts an end to the process. She stops it. And she stops it by cleverness and faith.
We cannot know what the dawn will bring, what awaits us each day. But if we go with it, it is always interesting, is it not?
I fear for the future. I don’t know how these psychopathic little brats we are raising up now are going to turn into good people. I don’t know how we avoid the large numbers of extremely organized, well funded, and motivated people who want to subvert our democracy actually doing so. They have so many tools. They have intelligence. They have will.
But it is my job, as I see it, to have the faith of a mustard seed. It is my job to believe. It is my job to have courage.
So, I turned from commentary to confession. The wine is taking effect. I have several stories, several comments spinning around in my little head. Perhaps tomorrow. Some things, I need to think carefully if I want to share at all. I have, perhaps, too many ideas. I hope I am a good good guy–to the extent my values exceed my vices–but I would also be a horrible bad guy. There, though, I suspect I would have a dismaying and dizzying amount of company.
Why this is, perhaps we will one day soon know. This relates to one of the ideas I will most likely choose to share.