Hello everyone! It’s Friday, Friday! Don’t sing that song ever again. ITS MY 20TH POST HERE!!!!!
Today, I’ll be talking about: POETRY, LENNON, BUKOWSKI, NIETZSCHE, LIFE. So yeah, buckle up. It’s the full existential ride.
So, recently, had been quite deeply charmed by nihilistic humour and a form of unconventional form of orthography that I discovered in poetry. As you can imagine, I had been reading a lot of Charles Bukowski. And when the king of “Life is a Big Joke” comes hand in hand with the king of “There Has to Be a Meaning”, Friedrich Nietzsche, its a huge pot of intestines. Aka, it’s very messy. However, I did find some relief after I came across a rather unusual form of literature. “In His Own Write” by John Lennon.
I started a new book of poems (Here) and it’s called “EVERYDOBY’S WOR(L)DS“. It’s a bunch of nonesene pile of words heaped on top of one another to make a joke. It’s pretty weird but go check it out cos I’ll never be good at advertising and convincing anyone to like anything by me.
John Lennon’s talent, though generally regarded with respect, is still rather underestimated. He wasn’t only a Beatle but a true artist. And not only that! We have a lot to learn and understand from his life and how he lived it; extracting the goodness and the tragedies. I won’t go too much into detail about him because that would take volumes of books. The point I’m trying to make today is, Lennon really had a way with words.
Lennon wrote a very sophisticated fashion with a classical way of telling stories but, what he did differently was that he took a word and totally modified it. At first, when you start reading a poem or story by him, you will think, “Well, this can’t be right, can it? That’s not how you spell that? That makes no sense!” But then you realise that there’s a pattern and the whole book of prosody and orthography has been turned upside down. And the stories are absolutely hilarious. In a rather dark way. For example, there’s a particular poem called “No Flies On Frank” by the end of which, Frank, the protagonist kills his wife. It’s a very sinister story but the way it is told is just amazing. He sort of puts a smile upon a corpse, if you allow me to be terribly metaphorical. About the Awful is sort of the preface to the book. Click on the name to watch him recite it.
Now for Bukowski!
I have been reading The Last Night of the Earth Poems. And these poems are the perfect ode to the loner. They are sort of beautiful in a sad way, as are a lot of Bukowski’s poetry. The main thing that links this book to Lennon’s In His Own Write is that they both include humour. After my, about 5 years of FRIVOLOUSLY reading, I have finally come to realise the importance of humour and of entertaining the audience with a laugh. Even if it’s a very nervous laugh, a little moment of smiling nonetheless.
Bukowski was a very straightforward kind of man. If he didn’t like something, he had a reason for it and he explained himself painfully skilfully even if all his justifications weren’t the best to accept. His reasoning always had some element of truth in them, which is always important. Especially, as a poet. His self deprecation and self consciousness was flared within the bottle of humour and passed on with some hobo-wisdom, which is also important. It’s better than succumbing to your imperfections and end up swallowed by the void of shame. Laugh it off, embrace and move on!
Last week, I started reading Beyond Good and Evil and I swear to god, this guy really can get you thinking. Sometimes, you’ll hate him very much and you will hate yourself for liking some of the other things he had to say but, I personally, did end up admiring some of his opinions. He was pretty much a misogynistic ass, and probably racist to some extent too though I’m not sure yet, but he had a sort of charming spirit to endlessly find a meaning to everything. His optimism is sometimes rather annoying, because he’s SO optimistic, but the unusual need to find an answer is almost fascinating.
My friend, Fahima, sent me a book from London, called Confidence and its by Rowland Manthorpe and Kirsten Smith.
It’s a book about this girl who is working on her university dissertation on, well, CONFIDENCE, and especially what Nietzsche had to say about it. It’s a really cool book because this girl, Ellie, goes through uni life, which is a very “in the moment” kind of life I’d imagine, and the things that happen to her sort of link to her essay on Nietzsche. It’s really beautiful in some parts and I’m absolutely loving it. So, thanks, Fahima.
So, there you go! I hope you can find a meaning out of all these weird blogs and reports I post here and
“God help and breed you all!”