I wrote the following last night around 2:00 am:

I know exactly what Hunter S. Thompson was thinking on July 13, 1957 (coincidentally, when my father was only four months old and my mother wasn’t even born yet). That is because I have Thompson’s two-volume collection of correspondence, the first volume of which is entitled The Proud Highway. I know exactly what HST was thinking approximately 51 years ago because he typed it in a letter. Most people under the age of 20 would have a similar gut response to this idea. “A letter? What the hell is a letter? Is that the same as an email?” But if you think about it, the idea of traditional correspondence is dead. Even using a word processor on a computer, no one writes or types formal, longhand letters, prints them, seals them in an envelope, and drops them in the mailbox. It’s fasters and cheaper to send said message via electronic mail.

Getting back to the point: On July 13, 1957, HST wrote to lady friend Susan Haselden, “Actually, I am already the new Fitzgerald: I just haven’t been recognized yet.” In fact, the first sections of correspondence show an unflinching self-confidence that only breaks on a few occasions. But it makes me wonder…if I start telling people I’m the new Thompson or the new Kerouac, will they start to believe it before me?

The most important realization that I’ve read so far came on 10/17/57. Thompson wrote, “I’ve strayed from all the popular ideologies of our time. To go back – or to hesitate – would be unthinkable. And yet, in going on, I can see that I shall be permanently apart from all but a small and lonely percentage of the human race, in all but the most superficial respects.” Upon reading this, I only thought, “I know exactly what you mean.”

Now I feel like I’m the first prospector to trample California, finding gold bits with every new scoop into the river. On 10/24/57, HST wrote, “Keep in mind that the ability to create is an integral part of the makeup of man. If a lack is encountered, it lies not in the ability, but in the scope of perception of one’s own creative ability.” That sentence is slightly muddled, but he is essentially saying that most people lack the means to explore their full creative potential.

When HST arrived at a small Pennsylvania mining town after an honorable discharge from the Air Force, he was extremely unsatisfied with his crummy newspaper job. He wrote on 11/29/57, “I must, in short, rely on something else: and whether I can derive any satisfaction from that ‘something else’ will be the deciding factor in whether I stay here or not. I’m speaking of my work: not just the newspaper, but other writing I can do. If a man really wanted to bury himself, I can think of no better place to do it than in Jersey Shore.” This one is almost frightening, because it so closely mirrors my constant jabbering to [my girlfriend] about how I can’t stand grad school or my job. I read and write to stay sane.

Continuing on 12/15/57: “I have found but one advantage to living here: I am completely alone. I work for three or four hours for five days a week, and then I return to my apartment – on top of Regan’s Taproom – and either read or write. Loneliness is for people who can’t see themselves except through the eyes of their compatriots, and all evidence points to the fact that I’ve passed that stage.” I must have still been in that stage when I was in Chicago. I never feel lonely in East Lansing, but I felt extremely lonesome among six million other densely populated Chicagoans during that ill-fated 14-month stretch.

Thompson also regularly bashed the ideals behind mainstream journalism. That’s one of many recurring topics that are extremely comforting to me in my uncertain state of affairs. Parts of these letters relate to various experiences that I’ve had over the past three years. What’s most striking is HST’s grasp of vocabulary. He had his characteristic sense of diction practically straight out of high school. Of course, there’s no way for me to tell how much time he actually spent on these letters, or if he ever used a thesaurus, etc.

After being fired from the Jersey Shore Herald and moving to New York City, HST wrote on 1/6/58 that he was “untempered as yet by the revelation that all literary effort is not honest, that all editors are not literary, and that the price of perception is unemployment.” He had a way of making interesting points in seemingly simple sentences. In the same letter on his NYC job search, he wrote, “I find that I’d rather build my own figurative ladder than start at the bottom rung of the existing one.”

I can’t help but feeling that I’m unraveling a mystery that is strangely made more interesting since I know much of what happens later on, including the ending. But I’m so excited to see the intermediary steps, and interested to see how HST even remained in journalism – a profession he seemed to hate – when his true passion was fiction. After realizing that HST wasn’t actually a “doctor of journalism,” I was afraid that my fondness for his work was unfounded. I’m now being reassured that that isn’t the case.

One thing I’ve been wondering is this: Can I carry on a formal correspondence of old, even if it isn’t directed specifically at anyone, or sent through the postal service? What if I wrote letters as if I intended to send them to someone, but then just posted them on my blog? Would that be interesting to anyone, in the same way that I find these HST letters interesting?
Anyways, I’m off to read some more before bed.

Apparently Bush is rushing to secure his spot as (possibly) the worst president in American history. As reported in a New York Times article (entitled “Senate Votes to Expand Spy Powers” on 2/13/08) about two weeks ago, the U.S. Senate approved a bill that would drastically and permanently increase our government’s spying abilities. On its front, the bill is designed to help intercept dangerous foreign conversations that come through the U.S. If it were solely intended to prevent terrorists from operating withing our borders, this would be a positive concept. But that’s not the case here.

Currently, the government needs a warrant from a surveillance court to eavesdrop on private conversations. This is an expected check on the federal government’s power in a land that values civil liberties like FREE SPEECH and PRIVACY. The first major change associated with this bill would be to remove the warrant process. In essence, the government would be able to eavesdrop on whomever they choose. Then, if the surveillance court senses a problem afterwards, they can investigate. Words from 1984 are echoing in my head like a stone bouncing down the walls of a deep, dark well. DOES THIS NOT EQUATE TO BIG BROTHER?

This bill would be open to interpretation as to what “terrorist” means, and which foreign correspondence is “dangerous.” Especially because, over the past seven years, “terrorist” has meant anyone that can be targeted to benefit the Bush agenda. (Forgive me for not speculating on issues relating to 9/11. I highly recommend that you watch the many documentaries being created on the subject. Then you, too, may start to question whether those “Islamic Fundamentalists” were really that, or if they were hired and trained by the Bush Administration…).

The second major change created by the bill would be immunity for telecommunications companies. In other words, the ones supplying the phone service will not be liable for cooperating with the government’s spying program. But here arises another gray area. What if a phone company spies on someone in an instance that is not directly tied to federal investigation? Will they still be invincible to lawsuits?

Even worse, what if this type of legislation eventually extends to all communication? Email? USPS? Sparrow messenger? When does it stop? All this really amounts to is executive control over the population. After all, McCain could potentially be filling Bush’s shoes soon. So it’s convenient then that the Republican Senator from Arizona approved this bill…

On August 28, 2008, my favorite book will become a movie. Well, to call it my favorite book might not be the best word choice, since others ring in my head and heart more frequently and loudly. Chuck Palahniuk’s Choke was recommended to me in the summer of 2005 by a random acquaintance on MySpace. Up to that point, I had only heard the author’s name in reference to Fight Club, since his 1996 novel was the foundation of David Fincher’s 1999 film of the same name, starring Brad Pitt and Edward Norton.

Essentially, Choke was the fifth book that I ever read for pleasure and by my own choice. The first four were the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Kerouac’s On The Road. Having just graduated from college and cowering under the threat of the real world, I turned to Choke for shelter. And holy geze, did I need shelter. Leaving MSU inspired severe reminiscences of childbirth trauma. I found myself in a state of extreme cynicism, anger, and hopelessness. Choke was my guidebook.

So to see that Palahniuk’s 2004 novel about a medical-school-drop-out-turned-swindling-sex-addict will be made into a film made me very excited. This will only be the second time that I’ve read a book before the corresponding film came out (The LOTR trilogy was the first). To read that the film will star Sam Rockwell, Angelica Huston, and Brad Henke (who was a supporting male in Me and You and Everyone We Know, one of my new favorite movies) also made me giddy, since I can easily picture those actors in their chosen roles.

But seeing a clip from the film gives me mixed feelings. Don’t worry. I’m not some sort of book snob who wishes I had the story to myself. I think it’s one of the first great stories of this post-Y2K generation, and a direct continuation of many concepts presented in Fight Club. While I enjoyed the book Fight Club, I thought the movie adaptation was almost superior in its presentation of the plot. But in Choke, Palahniuk wrote with a very cinematic style, where the chapters even resembled scenes in a movie. I’m wondering if the film will add to the story’s value (as was the case with Fight Club) or detract from it (as is the case with most book-to-film adaptations). At least the movie was made independently, for something like $4 million.

Link:
IMDB
Chuck Palahniuk

A clip from the movie, where Victor Mancini visits a sex addict workshop.

I just watched I’m Not There, the 2007 film where six different actors play variations or segments of Bob Dylan’s life. It made me more interested in Dylan than his music alone ever did…but then again, I’ve never put much effort into listening to it. Ironically, Cate Blanchett not only had more speaking lines than the other versions, but she also achieved the deepest characterization and looked the most like the real Dylan.

My favorite line came from Ben Wishaw towards the end: “The only truly natural things are dreams, which nature cannot touch with decay.” It reminded me of the book that I’m reading right now: Life Against Death by Norman O. Brown. Brown uses the work of Freud to dissect history and human nature.

In a dream sequence, Arthur Rimbaud (one of the Dylan personas) hangs like a balloon above a fair.

In the section on art, Brown explains that art, dreams and neurosis are all connected to the unconscious. Although, art is the only one which is unrepressed. Dreams and neurosis, on the other hand, are sort of trapped. There doesn’t appear to be a way to stop yourself from dreaming about your long-lost friend, or a place you often visited as a child. And don’t get caught up on the word neurosis – the simplest definition is any major flaw that results from being an adult human. As Brown puts it, “Art seduces us into the struggle against repression. [...] Dreams and neurosis give expression to the repressed unconscious, but they do not liberate it.”

I think it’s safe to assume that Dylan is more of an artist than the majority of professional musicians in the world. And Dylan’s art was liberating to multiple generations, especially way back in the turmoil of the ’60s. Brown: “Art, if its object is to undo repressions, and if civilization is essentially repressive, is in this sense subversive of civilization.” So it is strange then that Dylan would prefer the rigid, unchanging nature of dreams. Perhaps dreams were a safe solace from the chaotic spotlight of fame.