There was a friend of mine that recently sent me a photo
from inside the White House that he took while at work. His job carries across into doing work associated
with the current administration along the lines of PR and Event Planning. While he is a bit more ambivalent about politics
than I am, I would think the extreme racist views taken by this administration
would at least dampen the normally exciting experience of being at the White House. Then again, I am sure there were all kinds of
worker bees that were excited to be doing gigs for Hitler. Think about all those banners hanging at the
Nuremberg Rallies. There had to be a
company that produced and hung them. Too
bad there wasn’t social media back then of a photo of Otto the banner sales guy
taking a selfie with Hitler in the distance.
“Say what you want about his views, but Uncle Adolf knows how to throw a
rally! #Nuremberg #rallytime #greattobehere”
At a certain point, financial success often leads to the hexing
crossroad of personal beliefs versus money.
Would I work on the Hitler re-election campaign? No, but then again, no one has asked me and
dangled out a hefty paycheck. I like to
think I am a man with a firm moral compass, but then again, I have demonstrated
a certain moral flexibility when times got a little murky. “Hey, I know Hitler has some problems with
the Jews and gypsies, but that’s all just talk to get his base riled up. Plus, if I don’t sell him these banners, someone
else will anyway. You should have seen
all the shrimp they had in the VIP lounge!
They gave me preferred parking too!”
I just finished a great novel yesterday, “Leaving the Atocha
Station” by Ben Lerner. The novel is
about a poet that feels like a fraud that is doing a fellowship in Spain. I have to say, being a poet on a fellowship
in Spain sounds like a much better job than clapping politely while the highest
elected official in our nation spews racism.
I can visualize myself writing questionable poetry and trying to provide
oblique answers to thoughtful questions about my art. In a way, it’s a natural lateral move from my
rock singer/sales current lifestyle. How hard can it be to write a passable poem?
Seven green bottles
The relief of sunset
The aching hours
Devour to the husk
The rusty lightning rod
The shivering pain
And again
I wrote that in 14 seconds. That at least looks like a poem. All I
need is one person to suggest, “this guy needs a fellowship” and I am on my
way. Sure, I will know I am a fraud, but
I already think that anyway. The last
thing anyone needs is another poet with too much confidence. First, no one reads poetry. No one.
Second, a poet that believes they are important while their art form is elusive
and unpopular is a dangerous combination.
When the overconfident poet fails to make any impact, the poet believes
that he is already elevated into a stratosphere above the common man who cannot
understand his complexity and therefore all criticism is unwarranted. It’s like when a bunch of horrible metal
bands hang out together and convince themselves they are awesome despite plain
evidence to the contrary.
As a result, as a poet with a fellowship in Spain, I
could saunter around immune to criticism and hang out with a small group of aficionados
that think I am a big deal because I am on the fellowship in the first
place. “Is he good?” He must be!
He’s on a fellowship! This is
infinitely better than smiling politely while the leader in our supposed
democracy talks about “round ups” and “sending them back where they came from”,
though the money is not good in poetry as I understand it. It’s a bit of a quandary.
Ultimately, I will start on a new book today and “Leaving
the Atocha Station” will slowly fade from memory. The bad news is that the new book is a
translated French novel from Michel Houellebecq, so I will probably morph into some
kind of half-assed provocateur smoking Gauloises and talking at length about
the Vichy as I offer up dismissive arguments about nothing. It shouldn’t be a far swing from my poetry
fellowship dreams and is certainly much better than working for an
Authoritarian Goon, though once again the pay will be subpar. Eh? Que
pouvez-vous faire?
No comments:
Post a Comment