Moot Thoughts & Musings

Rachel has posted a great poem on her blog. I'm stealing it from there, because, well...I'll tell you later...after you read it:

a place in Philly

there's nothing like being young
and starving,
living in a roominghouse and
pretending to be a
writer
while other men are occupied
with their professions and
their possessions.
there's nothing like being
young and
starving,
listening to Brahms,
your belly sucked-in,
nary an ounce of
fat,
stretched out on the bed
in the dark,
smoking a rolled
cigarette
and working on the
last bottle of
wine,
the sheets of your
writing strewn across the
floor.
you have walked on and across
them,
your masterpieces, and
either
they'll be read in
hell,
or perhaps
gnawed at by the
curious
mice.
Brahms is the only
friend you have,
the only friend you
want,
him and the wine
bottle,
as you realize that
you will never
be a citizen of the
world,
and if you
live to be very
old
you still will never
be a citizen of the
world.
the wine and
Brahms mix well as
you watch the
lights
move across the
ceiling,
courtesy of
passing
automobiles.
soon you'll sleep
and
tomorrow there
certainly
will be
more
masterpieces.

by Charles Bukowski

What I love is how the poet is projecting himself as a younger version of writer/artist so the "I" becomes "you". And you can't help wondering if you perhaps he makes this shift out of a sense of personal frustrating (i.e. "I will never be a citizen of this world) or if he does this to touch a chord in the reader (i.e. "You...that's right I'm talking to you, kid...you will never be a citizen of this world".). I kind of like both.

So why would he say this to "you, kid"? To encourage the kid to press on with his gift? he/she has special insight into the world? [see how we struggle with 19th century baggage?] or perhaps to say to the kid--"well, you want to see the world in a particular way? and you're going defy the norms of society to live a life that allows to indulge in your perspective? well, I got news for you. It's a lonely life you've chosen. You'll never belong. You can't have it both ways. And the world won't feel sorry when you're cold and starving because you're not making money, because you chose that life."

The latter, though the less romantic, is the one I prefer. It's a bit sardonic, but it touches the poignant chord of reality. Anyone who chooses a profession that is not economically viable should resonate with this chord.

When I graduated from college, the world seemed so ripe with possibilities. A couple years later, I'm still optimistic, but the weight of debt, people my age buying houses while I still live in a 300 sq ft apt, cars falling apart...heavy washes of reality. It's hard to reconcile the idealist I am, the chaser of a beautiful life, with a rack full of bills and a staggering amount of debt. And being the tortured soul that I am, I think about this, justifying my choice to myself, and chasing after grants and fellowships to fund my choice. Sometimes I wonder, should I give up? get a job writing computer manuals? Who knows. Every year I'm in, though, the deeper I go. I love not being a "citizen of the world". The world is boring. Though, secretly sometimes I feel like the person in the corner downing punch and pretzels at a party wondering if it's too early to leave yet.

But I can rest without too much angst, because in a very real sense I am not a citizen of this world and am happy to live faithfully now "in the days of my sojourning", knowing that my work isn't for me and not the place where I find fulfillment.