I picked up a paper today after breakfast and proceeded to read it with my coffee while my roommates watched the View. Everything is, of course, SO political, especially right after the caucus (both my Iowan roommates said they were glad it was over because they got way too many phone calls). Anyways, this article caught my eye.
I don’t mean for this blog to have a slant or to veer too far off the literary path, so I won’t summarize or opinionize (yes, that is a word now…). I’m just semi-reporting that I’m working on one of my resolutions – to read the paper more.
Meanwhile, I’m reading Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner and so far it’s great. After reading all of the great reviews about it, I’m excited to be finally reading it! I’m about a quarter of the way through. I think what I like the best about it at this point is the narrator’s preoccupation with appearing to be profound and deep. He holds himself above others by not participating in conversation and, with his broken Spanish, only offers mysterious sentences that speak of a great depth of intelligence, or so he thinks. He describes how he positions his face to convey certain emotions and how he uses his cigarettes as objects to punctuate the conversation he does partake in, like a prop. When people ask him what his poetry is about, he affects a look of disdain and proclaims that “poetry isn’t about anything.” It’s mildly hilarious and it reminds me of certain people I know here at school who are more concerned with looking like the writer/poet/hipster/artist than actually creating something.