Writing: Letter Colletions

Photo by Daniel Rembert, "Jack Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956"

Over the winter months, I decided to spread my literary wings.

It wasn't so much in regards to my own work, but in the way I approached the work of authors & artists I've been following.  Novels & biographies alone weren't enough anymore - like an addict that needs to up the dosage of whatever vice they have - I needed something more in order to stay interested.

It started with a coffee table book I found, called "GONZO", a pictorial biography of Hunter S. Thompson's life & travels.  Being a Hunter-O-Phile, I thought it was fascinating to see the pictures he took of the places mentioned in his various works.  In between those pages though, there were letter excerpts about the very same thing.  They were the raw, unprocessed ore of books & articles that I already loved.  I read every single one and became obsessed.*

*Notice post #3 on this very same site.

The majority of those letters were published in a book called "The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman 1955-1967", and I tossed it onto my monthly Amazon book order. Thanks to their recommendations feature, I was made aware of many more letter collections. Kerouac, Ginsberg, Cassady, Joyce, Bukowski, Burroughs, Vonnegut... even George Carlin had collections published, and those are just ones that I currently own.  Almost any famous writer is in this special club.

What I love about these publications is that the reader gets more insight into the author than any biography could ever get.  Dare I say even better than autobiographies?  I think so.  An autobiography is usually written much after the fact, so the content isn't nearly as accurate as they are with letters.  In letters, you get up-to-the-minute emotions & thoughts rather than a reflection of them from decades later.

Being a wordsmith myself, there's another perk with "The Letters of..." collections, the opportunity to watch their writing style evolve into what everyone else is familiar with.  Especially with collections that begin early in their life, you get to see the full transition - including any sort of influences they've had along the way.  When they start to read a series of works by someone else, their style will change a little, being influenced by it. 

It's a process that almost every writer goes through, and when you get to read through it chronologically, you get a magnified view of normally subtle tweaks and changes that people normally never get to see in the first place. 

A warning though: To really enjoy books like these, you have to be a big fan of the author.  If you aren't, you will get bored easily.  To the average reader, it's just a thick-ass book filled with letters to unknown people, talking about trivial shit. 

Me, on the other hand, I've always been fascinated by Jack Kerouac's relationship with Allen Ginsberg & Neal Cassady, and I have three separate books of letters dealing with that subject alone. 

Literary Fan Level: Nerd

Television: Characters

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs

(Giving you the "Hey, cut the shit" glare.)

Very few fictional people out there actually have my respect, mainly because they're... fictional.  What do I care about some character on TV?  It's not like a non-existent person's view of me would ever really matter...

Enter: Agent Gibbs 

Stage: Left 

Direction: In your goddamn face.

Woah. 

Alright, that guy is intimidating and awesome... in an epic combination of equally epic proportions.
He is SO invited to my wedding if I have one.  Hell, if Gibbs has a daughter, I'd marry her.

What's that?  Wait.  He had a daughter... and she's dead? Uh oh.
Huh?  She, along with Gibbs' first wife were killed by a Mexican drug dealer? Shiiit.
Say that again? He's a former Marine Gunnery Sergeant & Scout Sniper? AND got revenge by shooting him in the face from 600 yards away?
...
Sorry Gibbs, um... please don't beat me up too much.  Stop just short of causing brain damage, if possible.

_      _      _      _      _

If you're unfamiliar with NCIS, it's a crime solving show on TBS about the Naval Criminal Investigative Service - voted "America's Favorite Show" in 2011.  The difference between this and the multitude of other crime shows, is that this one isn't "dark & gritty" as so many of them are described by advertising teams when they're first introduced to the public. 

Sure, there are fake crime scenes that the faint of heart may cringe at, but the characters investigating them are lighthearted and entertaining.  They could be best described as a somewhat dysfunctional family, not unlike other ensemble casts in sitcoms like The Big Bang Theory, Archer... or even the online series, "After Hours" on Cracked.com. * * *Shameless plug for a website I'm loosely affiliated with* * *

But Agent Gibbs, the father of the pseudo family, is the backbone of the show.  He's not only tough, intimidating and has a crime intuition that borderlines on supernatural, he also has a side to his demeanor that makes everyone (including the audience) want to seek his approval.  It's a strange combination that I rarely see in movies or TV... but it compliments the other characters on the show very well.

You really couldn't care what the subject matter of the episode is - you just want them to interact in any situation, like sitting at a 24 Hour diner and talking about random shit.
...
Like "After Hours" on Cracked.com 
*Ahem!*

Music: Albums

Frank Sinatra: The Best of the Capitol Years

I think it's safe to assume that the majority of people under the age of twenty-four claiming to be fans of Frank Sinatra... are full of shit and just want to sound cool and cultured.  


In a way, I get it.  Frankie was, still is, and will always be the pinnacle of Cool, so if you want to sound cool without actually being it... why not take that route.  The sad part is that they probably will never become fans because they're too busy listening to dubstep.  (If you don't know what dubstep is... picture the Chemical Brothers in a bus station bathroom, having violent hangover / McDonald's breakfast burrito diarrhea... and recording it.)


If one were to actually take the time and give ol' Blue Eyes a chance, this album would be the best place to start.  Featuring 20 of the best songs recorded at Capitol Records from 1952-1960, this compilation demonstrates Sinatra's peak as a recording artist.  I have this entire album memorized.


Now hold on for a second, I'm not claiming to be the ultimate Frankie Fanboy... I'm just saying I know the record front-to-back.  Listening to it almost every night for my entire childhood will do that.  Before, during and after our family dinners, Mom & Pops would put this in the record player and let it play all the way through.


I'm assuming (since I can't remember the first times I listened to it) that I didn't like it at first.  Hey, I was a freakin' little kid.  But when I was around fifteen or sixteen, right around when our family dinners stopped being so routine, these songs were as much a part of my life as anything else... if not more.  Even now, as my Sinatra collection exceeds 130 songs, these are still my favorites.  


Drop by Amazon.com.  This, the best Frankie collection to date, will only set you back $10.  It's more than worth it.

Photographs

Alright, I know.  Everyone and their slightly deranged uncle living in the basement collects photos they see on the internet and displays them with little to no explanation.


See: 97% of all Fickr and Tumblr pages.


I normally hate bolstering cliches, but hey, it's kind of hard not to these days - we're all sharing everything so much, the internet has become one overflowing cesspool of cliche.  My own personal exhaustion of photography (besides women that are all nakie-like) is a fetish for collecting weird vintage photos.  The dozen or so displayed above for your viewing displeasure are some of my favorites that I've come across in the past five years or so.


The reason why I'm so oddly specific with the.. well... odd photos is because society back then was very proper yet deranged when compared to our generation, so things that seemed normal and trendy then are just plain goofy to us.  I'm sure it'd be vice versa as well.


We have the "Everyone Jump on Three!!" and "No One Look Directly at the Camera to Look Deep" pictures... they had children in creepy animal masks, rigid oak chairs and NO ADULT SMILES.  It's like you'd lose your land if you had a mustache and were caught smiling for the camera. Then again, if I had to wear one of those unholy warm and itchy wool suits, I'd walk around with a wicked scowl on my face too.


Though, I have no explanation for the bear consoling the forlorn woman.  That shits goofy no matter what president is in office.

Writing: Quotes

This quote is from his novel "Women", the first of only two books I've read by him.  


When it comes to Bukowski, I'm not a conventional fan.  I've never read any of his poetry, nor do I want to.  His novels that I have read, "Post Office" & "Women", didn't really stand out as anything very special, and lets face it, he wasn't exactly a nice guy.  His lifestyle has created an entire generation of copycat amateur writers that think you have to be a drunken asshole to be talented.


The reason why I keep coming back to him as one of my favorite writers is because he was a wordsmith that had a knack for pumping out amazing quotes, this one included.  Some are good with novels, others with nonfiction, and some are good with essays... to me, Bukowski's niche was being a quote machine.


Ask Google to show you his quotes.  They're all brilliant and simple at the same time. 

Music: Songs

I first heard of Stevie Ray Vaughan when I was 12 or 13.  By then, I had been taking guitar lessons for a few years and one of the requests I had for my teacher was to not only show me how to play the six string, but tell me about the people who could do it the best.  SRV was at the top of that list.


This song is probably one of my favorites of his.  Sure, SRV is best known for his blisteringly fast and intricate guitar solos, but he was also an incredible all-around blues man.  This song was released about a year after Stevie's death in 1990 on a compilation of un-released studio tracks called "The Sky Is Crying".  This song is by far the most powerful.  Featuring just Stevie and an acoustic guitar, it's a song that people believe is about his past drug & alcohol addiction and his reflections on it.


To me, Stevie Ray Vaughan wasn't just a guitarist or a musician.  He was the blues guitarist.  A lot of people disagree with me, citing musicians like B.B. King, Robert Cray, Buddy Guy,  etc.  and I do partially agree with them, those men are incredible.  But Stevie didn't play the blues, he was the blues.  His life was littered with pain and anguish, from both him and his surroundings... all the way to the tragic circumstances of his death.


Listen to this song tonight, by yourself.  Very few songs out there can make your heart hurt the way this one does.

Writing: Letter Excerpts

Hunter S. Thompson self portrait, Louisville, KY. 1963

"As things stand now, I am going to be a writer.  I'm not sure that I'm going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says, 'you are nothing', I will be a writer."
"My apartment, once the scene of lazy sex and quiet privacy, has erupted during the past two weeks into a virtual cave of howling drunken insanity.  There are people sleeping everywhere - on my bed, on the couch, on the cot, and even on sleeping bags on the floor.  Everything in the place is covered in stale beer, most of my records are ruined, every piece of linen, towel, or clothing in the place is filthy, the dishes haven't been washed in weeks, the neighbors have petitioned the landlord to have me evicted, my sex life has been absolutely smashed, I have no money, no food, no privacy, and certainly no piece of mind."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter to Rodger Richards from Cuddebackville
June 3, 1959

"I live 5 miles from town, on the beach, 4-room house, motor scooter, no job, writing freelance stuff for Stateside newspapers, also fiction, so many bugs I can barely breathe, wide here and cooking, no money, vagrant artist from New York also living here, has sailboat, all in all life is not bad."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter from Loiz Aldea, Puerto Rico
May 25, 1960

"Monday I'll ride my thumb south - Carmel, Monterey, Big Sur, and maybe all the way to Los Angeles.  Whatever happens will be all right.  I do not care and have no plans.  All I want to do is get out on the coast and see the California everybody talks about.  I'll go as far as the rides take me, sleep on the beach (sleeping bag), and beg, if necessary, for food."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter to Sandy Conklin
October 28, 1960

"I am surrounded by lunatics here, people screeching every time I pull a trigger, yelling about my blood-soaked shirt, packs of queers waiting to do me in, so many creditors that I've lost count, a huge Doberman on the bed, a pistol by the desk, time passing, getting balder, no money, a great thirst for all the world's whiskey, my clothes rotting in the fog, a mootrcycle with no light, a landlady who's writing a novel on butcher-paper, wild boar in the hills and queers on the roads, vats of homemade beer in the closet, shooting cats to ease the pressure, the jabbing of Buddhists in the trees, whores in the canyons, Christ only knows if I can last it out."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter from Big Sur
August 4, 1961

"I am down to 10 U.S. dollars but have developed a theory which will go down as Thompson's Law of Travel Economics.  To wit: full speed ahead and damn the cost; it will all come out in the wash."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter en route to Bogota
May 26, 1962


"I am trying to get out of here on the jungle train, but the hotel won't take my checks so I can't leave.  I just sit in the room and ring the bell for more beer.  Life has improved immeasurably since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously."
-Hunter S. Thompson, letter from La Paz, Bolivia
August 18, 1962


These excerpts are from letters written by HST when he lived in Puerto Rico, South America and California.  Even at his mid-twenties, he was already traveling the world with a typewriter, tremendous talent and a taste for mayhem.
Pick up a biography on him... he's led quite the incredible life, one that I would kill to duplicate.