Friday 16 March 2012

i want to fuck your brain or maybe your brain to fuck mine just in case some of your genius rubs off on me

“Over (the) years, I’d developed a game plan or overall structure for the cycle. It would take the form of a novel being gradually dismembered to nothing. The first novel would construct the themes, archetypes, subjects, style, and atmosphere of the cycle. (…) Each succeeding novel’s form would reflect the damage caused by the violence, drug use, and emotional turmoil of the previous novel. (…) Parallel to this dismemberment in stages, the structure would be a mirrored structure where the first novel would seem to gradually move through a mirror and eventually, over the course of the cycle, become a backwards reflection of itself.”
-Dennis Cooper

the horror re: books

in my head, everything is falling under labels and categories.

art, too.

oh, especially literature.

where i hope i one day will excel at, har har har...

in my head, there's the mainstream literature.

Mainstream literature is divided intot wo semi-categories:

a) the cultivated, intellectual, sophisticated, highbrow-ish mainstream such as : Philip Roth, Ian McEwan, Michael Cunningham, Alan Hollinghurst, etc.etc. - that kind of writers who are always up for this huge literary award or that.

b) the sci-fi, fantasy, historical, erotica mainstream fiction, which can be good or bad, like, in my personal opinion: Anne Rice equals good, but that woman who wrote Twilight equals baaaaad.

And then there's this underground literature category, where anything not mainstream fits in. Anything that is experimental, or of weirdness of subject and/or style, of non-linear narrative, anything that hasn't or doesn't or won't stick to the rules of literature.

I grew up reading Thomas Wolfe and Fitzgerald and writers that, even though weren't considered as classic as let's say Dickens, adhered to the classic form of writing.The most alternative fiction I was reading back then was by Jack Kerouac, and he holds that kind of passionate and delirious trait in his writing that is, nowadays, considered a bit old-fashioned and maybe kinda uncool, when compared to post-modern (or French) fiction.

Later, i discovered Dennis Cooper and his kind of fiction. Alas, it was too late. I had already formed my style and tone and voice, not so much in writing itself as in thinking about writing. I tried, but i still can't break the shackles of certain convictions re: literature. I can't think or even read outside the box and between the lines.

Right now, whenever i try to start writing again, I'm immediately torn between two opposite directions: on one hand I want to desperately write like DC or Tao Lin or my friend Mischa or Robbe-Grillet or Kathy Acker or the Ohians or the Muumuus or Burroughs or ...well, you get my drift; and, on the other hand, i want to write like Cunningham or Roth or even Paul Auster. Perhaps, to be honest, i find it easier to write like the latter. But i crave, simply crave, to be able to master the...skill and the perplexity of the more...cool writing crowd.

and most of the times, when i sit and reflect calmly on my writing, when i see it for what it is and not for what i want it to be, i just realize, in utter and crashing disappointment that my skill in writing is mainly focused in writing porn - and not even extraordinary porn - just your run of the mill, mainstream porn...

Wednesday 14 March 2012

well, hello there

well, isn't this angsty angst angst? 

this scream being a prominent and unwavering part of my past and nightmares.

i'm back, maybe, and this time, it's all mainstream.

i'm mainstreaming.

i'm writing angsty mainstream stories. 

i'm trying to write about things i know nothing of and see if i can fool anyone.

this will probably be a Writing In Progress blog. 

sometimes, it's just gunna be all about personal angsty angst-angst.  

btw, how many of the old bloggers have been left? 

and are there any new ones.

or is the golden age of blogging gone?