That Kerouac quote--
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars--
has been running through my head like water this last couple of months. Then, today, I was looking for this commercial (to talk about in 311)
and ran into this
and figured it was too weird a coincidence not to motivate a post.
I hate this quote is the thing. I found it (loved it!) in my high school reading of Kerouac, copied it into my composition notebook, I found a way to work it into a district meeting on the mish, might (conditional here, not evasive) have had it tattooed at one point in my life, but ultimately it's inspired more grief than anything.
I've spent years nervous about saying Commonplace Things and yawning (this is not a joke) and not living/wanting frantically enough. And so I caffeineate and eschew chitchat and rush in an out of parties never settling in one place long enough to learn anyone's name. And there's a certain rush and thrill, and I think that, when I'm on, people think that I seem interesting and that they'd like to get to know me.
But I do say commonplace things. And I yawn. And most days I'm sort of lonely and wish that my efforts to care about people were less stilted-feeling and unsettled and self-centered. And that's all ok. Normal.
Normal.
3 comments:
It's about finding the balance, of being ok with the fact that you're normal but never ceasing to WANT to live, right? Delicate balance of being a malcontent and being an nonentity. Which you aren't.
From the perspective of a Roman Candle:
1) perhaps you do not like people looking at you all the time
2) it can be hard to see (or at least it seems so)
3) what you can see is that your life and that of your compatriots is shooting towards horrific shortness
What I think we need is: lanterns, candles, stars, flashlights, street lights, porch lights and tiki torches. Mr. Koureac was a bit of a voyeur, no? Not so much a connoisseur.
also: no one needs caffeine to be interesting. Absolutely everyone is already so interesting it would truly blow your mind out to even get a glimpse. Which, of course, you knew? But I'm just saying. For me, it's most often a matter of trying to find the right question-- the one that will elicit the True Idea from my interlocutor which they never tell anyone because no one ever listens. Also, asking those sorts of peculiar questions is the sort of thing that makes more people than one may be comfortable with think that one is a Roman Candle, causing one to wonder when their thinking this will flare out of existence, and also causing one to wish that one were better at saying commonplace things. Because that much attention can be frightening.
But if you really want it, my personal recommendation is that finding the right sorts of questions, then listening, works a heck of a lot better than being caffeinated. Chit-chat can be quite helpful if used as a lead-in to said questions. Also, knowing/being comfortable with yourself. And I will stop before I descend into Dale Carnegie, which more than one person may argue I already have.
(Also, thanks for telling me about the Forsythia. I had been told before, but I remembered this time, and I as I was on my walk today I saw a Forsythia bush and thought "That's a Forsythia!" and felt happy.)
“It has always bothered me that I don’t paint like everyone else.” —Henri Matisse
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