Monday, September 10, 2012

Notes from Grant and Green



....from one of Kerry's challenges at the WC where we were challenged to write in the style of or about the beatnik generation.  I took a quote from Kerouac about being Catholic and ran with it in the style I thought he wrote On the Road in, he taped pages together in one long sheet and kept typing not minding punctuation or grammar much, thought that was kinda cool.




It’s hard to be taken seriously as a Catholic when the rhythm of the city and tempering of my thoughts into long steel words flows through people’s veins because they are searching for the point of disembarkation from that littered life to one that is perceived as peaceful and fulfilling. But that jumping off point is fraught with just as many demons each trying to store a little bit of your ass in a tin cup for the winter months when the sun refuses to sell you even a sliver of hope and your friends are clamoring to borrow a dollar after you already bought the last round. When the slick mahogany surface of the barstool on the second floor of Vesuvio feels like your mothers breast and soothes the beasts that grow like hair inside your chest pounding to get a crack at one of your Benzedrine dreams realized you may be doomed to ride the bus of life forever searching for that g-spot.  My friend if they will not publish your poem then we will copy it on the bathroom walls of our own bookstore a vessel for all of the so called shit and minutia that will one day be gospel and make other men famous beyond recognition with their utter and complete understanding of our mind because they tell people that they know where our hearts lay.  But how can that be when I don’t know where my own heart beats? This haze kills the public specter after nine and I relax and think not of the past but if I can live up to the avatar created in my likeness or if that is even necessary.  One more time for those who weren’t listening…..I am not a beatnik I am Catholic.


© 2011 Crowley

12 comments:

  1. I defy anyone not to fall in love with this prose piece. The break-neck speed, the flash of ideas and images: barstools like breasts, an ass in a tin cup, poetry written on bathroom walls, the eternal search for self... it's all so true to the beat generation, and any generation of gifted tortured genius.

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  2. I love the words jumping off and just sprinting across in angst....my son writes his poetry in this style, no commas just one heck of a ride.

    I laugh at this line: doomed to ride the bus of life forever searching for that g-spot.

    I enjoyed this Corey ~ Hope you have a great week ~

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  3. Wow... amazing piece. To me it speaks of someone forever trying to relive their first "high" (from wherever that may be), but of being beaten down over and over again. I like how this can apply to many different things in life, be it alcoholism or publishers' rejections.

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  4. Neat the way you imitated Kerouac. I would have been very stumped to write in a beat nick style but you have managed to capture the tone and feel well.

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  5. This is just freakin' cool! Love the line about demons trying to store a piece of your ass in a tin cup. Awesome write!

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  6. How many times have I searched "for the point of disembarkation from that littered life to one that is perceived as peaceful and fulfilling," only to find, yes, more twists and turns that keep me searching and hoping. I love this piece, the style, the way it flows and runs and dances... it opens the mind to new thoughts and new directions, it encourages one to leave the mundane or the usual and dare the imagination to see an old thing in a new way. You've inspired me to try something different...

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  7. Well, Corey, I remember beatniks, and I remember Kerouac, and I say "bravo" and "you done it, boy" and several other congratulatory phrases I thought about a minute ago but can't remember now.
    K

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  8. I see Peggy's Kerouac, and raise her a Burroughs (although I like this Burroughs-esque pacing without all the corprophagy and other unpleasantness.) It's taut, tight, and tumbles along in a sprint without getting lost.

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  9. i'm with Kerry, how could anyone not love this? or you, for that matter? :) and also, why on earth does this remind me of the children's book (one of my favorites) Frederick by Leo Lionni? well i guess i know why. and it's a very wonderful thing. well done! and i owe you one. i'm back now, so i'll get on the stick.

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  10. your poem then we will copy it on the bathroom walls of our own bookstore. ha! I think destiny has much more in store for you than that!

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  11. Terrific images in this poem and definitely a Kerouac style of writing. I think poems might get a wider audience if we put them on bathroom walls of bookstores. (Ha.) I just love the ending.."I am not a beatnik I am Catholic."

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  12. "demons each trying to store a little bit of your ass in a tin cup for the winter month" I like this poem a lot--prude though I am about some of the juicier parts of it. I do not know where how when you publish, so excuse me if this is an imposition, but this poem is ready to fly. If you send it no where else, consider sending it to Nain Rouge, the new zine with an urban theme.

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