I am not an alcoholic. I hate cats. I am not a neat freak. I am not depressed. Therefore.....
Anyway, the attitudes you mock were quite prevalent in the 60s. Many of the best poets then were self-destructive and irresponsible and people claimed and I believed that being a poet required that kind of bullshit. I think it was finally the examples of Chaucer and Auden who showed poets could be rational human beings with stable lives.
G.K. Chesterton's examples of the emotionally healthy genius were Shakespeare and Browning. If my short essay is a critique of the "suffering artist" archetype, he may go a bit too far in the other direction:
"The artistic temperament is a disease that afflicts amateurs. It is a disease which arises from men not having sufficient power of expression to utter and get rid of the element of art in their being. It is healthful to every sane man to utter the art within him; it is essential to every sane man to get rid of the art within him at all costs. Artists of a large and wholesome vitality get rid of their art easily, as they breathe easily, or perspire easily. But in artists of less force, the thing becomes a pressure, and produces a definite pain, which is called the artistic temperament.”
As usual, Chesterton is immediately persuasive but needs qualification in afterthought. (I'm bitten by the same generalizing statementality.) As in this, which I came across today in working on my Frost material, from his book on Browning: "In Palgrave's 'Golden Treasury' two poems, each of them extremely well known, are placed side by side; and their juxtaposition represents one vast revolution in the poetical manner of looking at things. The first is Goldsmith’s almost too well known ‘When lovely Woman Stoops to Folly.’ Immediately after comes, with a sudden and thrilling change of note, the voice of Burns — ‘Ye banks and braes O bonnie Doon.’ They are two poems on exactly the same subject, and the whole difference is this fundamental difference, that Goldsmith’s words are spoken about a certain situation and Burns’ words are spoken in that situation.” Brilliant, but their juxtaposition in that place was not alone or for the first time representative or indicative—and "one vast revolution" is a laughable hyperbole.
Thanks Michael. I’m sorry about your friend. I was raised Catholic too. My father loved “Orthodoxy.” (Two typos in my comment: “need” should be “needs” and there should be a “was” after “place” near the end.
I was just thinking about Chesterton. I just heard about the death of an old friend and I was musing upon our Catholic upbringing. We had quite a thing for Chesterton in the early 60s. I probably wouldn’t appreciate him now. “As usual, Chesterton is immediately persuasive but need qualification in afterthought.” I like that.
Berryman seems to be a bit of a conversation-topic on Substack lately, and I've been trying to approach him from exactly this sort of angle. He was someone who seemed to think that the fact that he was special made his addiction special... The usual sad story, the same one that you're parodying here.
What can I say Alexander. I am 34 years dry and THAT is pretty cool as well. Tried a sip of good red wine a while back during a tasting. Tasted foul. Pressed no buttons
I mostly don't drink now, because I'm old and my body can't take it anymore. But I still crave it nearly every day after 20 years. I was talking with my wife the other day about taking Ozempic, not because I need weight loss, but just because I read that it makes cravings go away. Maybe it would take my craving to write poems go away too! And my craving to be cool. That would be....cool.
I did an online consultation about Ozempic for the same reason only to learn I can't take it because it's processed through the liver and...I drink too much. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I believe Joseph Heller wrote a book about this sort of thing.
I am not an alcoholic. I hate cats. I am not a neat freak. I am not depressed. Therefore.....
Anyway, the attitudes you mock were quite prevalent in the 60s. Many of the best poets then were self-destructive and irresponsible and people claimed and I believed that being a poet required that kind of bullshit. I think it was finally the examples of Chaucer and Auden who showed poets could be rational human beings with stable lives.
G.K. Chesterton's examples of the emotionally healthy genius were Shakespeare and Browning. If my short essay is a critique of the "suffering artist" archetype, he may go a bit too far in the other direction:
"The artistic temperament is a disease that afflicts amateurs. It is a disease which arises from men not having sufficient power of expression to utter and get rid of the element of art in their being. It is healthful to every sane man to utter the art within him; it is essential to every sane man to get rid of the art within him at all costs. Artists of a large and wholesome vitality get rid of their art easily, as they breathe easily, or perspire easily. But in artists of less force, the thing becomes a pressure, and produces a definite pain, which is called the artistic temperament.”
Yikes! Don't tell van Gogh!
As usual, Chesterton is immediately persuasive but needs qualification in afterthought. (I'm bitten by the same generalizing statementality.) As in this, which I came across today in working on my Frost material, from his book on Browning: "In Palgrave's 'Golden Treasury' two poems, each of them extremely well known, are placed side by side; and their juxtaposition represents one vast revolution in the poetical manner of looking at things. The first is Goldsmith’s almost too well known ‘When lovely Woman Stoops to Folly.’ Immediately after comes, with a sudden and thrilling change of note, the voice of Burns — ‘Ye banks and braes O bonnie Doon.’ They are two poems on exactly the same subject, and the whole difference is this fundamental difference, that Goldsmith’s words are spoken about a certain situation and Burns’ words are spoken in that situation.” Brilliant, but their juxtaposition in that place was not alone or for the first time representative or indicative—and "one vast revolution" is a laughable hyperbole.
Thanks Michael. I’m sorry about your friend. I was raised Catholic too. My father loved “Orthodoxy.” (Two typos in my comment: “need” should be “needs” and there should be a “was” after “place” near the end.
I was just thinking about Chesterton. I just heard about the death of an old friend and I was musing upon our Catholic upbringing. We had quite a thing for Chesterton in the early 60s. I probably wouldn’t appreciate him now. “As usual, Chesterton is immediately persuasive but need qualification in afterthought.” I like that.
Berryman seems to be a bit of a conversation-topic on Substack lately, and I've been trying to approach him from exactly this sort of angle. He was someone who seemed to think that the fact that he was special made his addiction special... The usual sad story, the same one that you're parodying here.
I was thinking about Berryman too. He must have been quite a pain to be around. Delmore Schwartz likewise.
What can I say Alexander. I am 34 years dry and THAT is pretty cool as well. Tried a sip of good red wine a while back during a tasting. Tasted foul. Pressed no buttons
I was thinking of you as I posted this. I hope the self-delusion comes through strong in my final lines.
I mostly don't drink now, because I'm old and my body can't take it anymore. But I still crave it nearly every day after 20 years. I was talking with my wife the other day about taking Ozempic, not because I need weight loss, but just because I read that it makes cravings go away. Maybe it would take my craving to write poems go away too! And my craving to be cool. That would be....cool.
I did an online consultation about Ozempic for the same reason only to learn I can't take it because it's processed through the liver and...I drink too much. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I believe Joseph Heller wrote a book about this sort of thing.
Thought for food