something about approaching exams, work overload, over-time shifts and bankruptcy brings out the creative in me. otherwise, im throwing all my energy into not studying, partying, drinking binges, death wishes, whining about the lack of intellectual stimulation in this dreary drab country.. all of a sudden, when i actually need to read economic journals, look for part-time work, call credit services, put away the bottle-i'm sapped. there is no energy left in me, the thud-thud of my heart has slowed to a beat-a-minute crawl, there are no more uppers, anti-depressants, intoxicants i can use. im simply and numbingly mindfucked. im over-whelmed by the enormity of the task ahead, and tail-under-hind-legs, im taking the easy way out- i have decided to write a novel.
Labels: the great indian novel
posted by ninetieschild at 10:26 AM
2 Comments:
To answer your question about the beats:
Go by John Clellon Holmes is considered by some the "1st beat novel." It's not read as much as On the Road and Naked Lunch. And since it's one of the earlier novels, the form is more conventional than what we sometimes expect from the beats. It's status as a transitional work is mirrored in the content. The protagonist isn't sure if he wants to be beat or straight.
You also might check out Diane di Prima. She mostly wrote poetry, but she does have a memoir/novel, Memoirs of a Beatnik, that's a tasty bit of literature. By the way, be prepared, it's as sexually explicit as Naked Lunch. For some reason, people are shocked by that. (Like they think the female members of the beat movement should be more sanitized? I mean, I guess Carolyn Cassady was, but does she even really count?)
Finally, Chandler Brossard's Who Walk in Darkness is another contender for "1st beat novel." I haven't read it, so can't speak to its quality, but I'm sure it's still worth digging up.
I always work best under stress!
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