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6.20.2006
I finally bought a book for my travels, in fact I bought four.
They are:
1) Brave New World Revisited - Aldous Huxley (I just realized that this isn’t actually Brave New World, it’s Aldous writing essays on society)
2) Steppenwolf - Hermann Hesse (I was looking for Siddhartha, but...)
3) Dharma Bums - Jack Kerouac
4) The Selected Poetry of - Rainer Maria Rilke
Now the question is: is it a good idea to lug four books (plus Metamorphosis for class) around in my backpack for a month? If not, which do I take? Dilemma. Steppenwolf sounds fascinating
Harry Haller is a sad and lonely figure, a reclusive intellectual for whom life holds no joy. He struggles to reconcile the wild primeval wolf and the rational man within himself without surrendering to the bourgeois values he despises. His life changes dramatically when he meets a woman who is his opposite, the carefree and elusive Hermine. The tale of the Steppenwolf culminates in the surreal Magic Theater—For Madmen Only!
But it would be a shame not bring Kerouac. And some poetry sprinkled in here and there could be nice.
* * *
We perceive, I suppose, the world through inherited lenses. A frustrating predicament. My maternal lineage traces us back to the famed preacher Jonathan “Brimstone” Edwards. At least according to legend. No doubt he was a man who said many great things, and preached many great sermons. And I suppose I should read up on the man before I make any lasting judgments, but legend is greater than truth is it not? The overwhelming shadow of this legendary puritan hangs over my whole family.
At least it seems to me.
I don’t mean to denounce anything. It’s just that I don’t particularly care to sit in the shaded grass and wave the family flag.
Europe is far from home. At least it used to be.
I’ve been planning to keep a travel blog while I’m gone. A way to record my adventures for myself and for my friends. Or friend as the case may be. Or maybe just for myself (considering the number of comments I receive).
I ate a picnic lunch with three aunts and their kids. My upcoming trip quickly became the hot topic. First she proposed that I stay with missionaries (fair enough, I’m sure they’re pleasent folk), then that this would make a great opportunity to share my faith, then that she’d like to follow my blog (this was my fault, because I told her I’d be keeping one). I’m afraid that she sees my venture as a grand proselytizing tour. I hope to discuss a great many things with a great many people. But nowhere on my agenda is making disciples.
I mean she is a wonderful woman, and she is excited for me and everything. But suddenly, imagining her and the rest of my family following my path step by step makes me want to crawl beneath a rock.
My other aunt seemed oddly dismayed about the whole thing and just kept saying, to no one in particular, “you’ll sure meet some interesting people” over and over. She has a restless lazy eye that can’t decide which side of her face it likes better. I never know who she’s talking to, or which eye to look at.
Maybe I should just say “Screw it I’m sick of pretending to toe the family line. And you know what I’m going to get high in Amsterdam. And I’m going to read unChristian books, and I’ll curse now and then. And I’ll talk to people about Shamans and Nietzche and Buddha if they want to, and I won’t try to convert them. And I’m not like you. Accept it.”
I guess eventually I will have to say these things. I’d kinda just planned on eventually ceasing to attend family gatherings and let everyone forget about me. Guess that’s not a good idea though... guess I should give them a chance to know me. Guess that’s the hard way out.
At least it seems to me.
I don’t mean to denounce anything. It’s just that I don’t particularly care to sit in the shaded grass and wave the family flag.
Europe is far from home. At least it used to be.
I’ve been planning to keep a travel blog while I’m gone. A way to record my adventures for myself and for my friends. Or friend as the case may be. Or maybe just for myself (considering the number of comments I receive).
I ate a picnic lunch with three aunts and their kids. My upcoming trip quickly became the hot topic. First she proposed that I stay with missionaries (fair enough, I’m sure they’re pleasent folk), then that this would make a great opportunity to share my faith, then that she’d like to follow my blog (this was my fault, because I told her I’d be keeping one). I’m afraid that she sees my venture as a grand proselytizing tour. I hope to discuss a great many things with a great many people. But nowhere on my agenda is making disciples.
I mean she is a wonderful woman, and she is excited for me and everything. But suddenly, imagining her and the rest of my family following my path step by step makes me want to crawl beneath a rock.
My other aunt seemed oddly dismayed about the whole thing and just kept saying, to no one in particular, “you’ll sure meet some interesting people” over and over. She has a restless lazy eye that can’t decide which side of her face it likes better. I never know who she’s talking to, or which eye to look at.
Maybe I should just say “Screw it I’m sick of pretending to toe the family line. And you know what I’m going to get high in Amsterdam. And I’m going to read unChristian books, and I’ll curse now and then. And I’ll talk to people about Shamans and Nietzche and Buddha if they want to, and I won’t try to convert them. And I’m not like you. Accept it.”
I guess eventually I will have to say these things. I’d kinda just planned on eventually ceasing to attend family gatherings and let everyone forget about me. Guess that’s not a good idea though... guess I should give them a chance to know me. Guess that’s the hard way out.
1 Comments:
I love how random this post is... and yet how much it says. And you definitely have more than one reader (I can't really say I'm your friend because I don't know you that well... in fact, I don't think that you even know that you know me because I'm like four years older than you, haven't seen you in a long time and tend to remember people who don't remember me... you were a frog camper at a frog camp I worked at, plus I was real involved in RUF and we have some mutual friends [like Mr. Wilson here]... anyway, I'm rambling).
I read your blog every day... I just don't comment that often because my comments end up being way long like this one; plus, sometimes I'm a little overwhelmed (in a good way) by the depth of what you're saying and feel there's nothing more to say than what you've already said.
Sorry this is so long... I'm tired and I tend to keep going... I'll stop now.
12:29 AM
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