{"id":1051,"date":"2015-05-01T15:20:37","date_gmt":"2015-05-01T23:20:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/?p=1051"},"modified":"2015-05-04T15:43:14","modified_gmt":"2015-05-04T23:43:14","slug":"and-his-heart-was-going-like-mad","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/2015\/05\/01\/and-his-heart-was-going-like-mad\/","title":{"rendered":"and his heart was going like mad"},"content":{"rendered":"

Postaday for May 1st. Your Life, the Book<\/a>:<\/strong> From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you \u2014 who would you like to be your biographer?<\/em><\/p>\n

James Joyce, mostly because I don\u2019t like him. He\u2019s overrated. He had a good thing going with Dubliners<\/em>, and then screwed it all up with Ulysses<\/em>. But he made Bloom the idiot seem epic. Bloom the ordinary, Bloom the pervert.<\/p>\n

My life has been a nightmare, just like Circe chapter, except that was Night Town, not nightmare. Doesn\u2019t matter. I never read that damn book. I tried, when I was a grad student in English. I ended up writing a paper about how often the damn book\u2019s been republished. Night town, night mare, and me a pig, slave to his appetites. Another lie. I\u2019m no slave, and the people who offer me up on tarnished platters the pills of my illnesses do so without even knowing who I am.<\/p>\n

Nor does Joyce know who I am, the perfect objective biographer, \u00a0to tell my story and it\u2019s no story at all.<\/p>\n

Or maybe Camus: \u201cHe fornicated and read the papers.\u201d Or Ford Madox Ford, not because he said \u201cHigher than the beasts, lower than the angels, stuck in our idiot Eden.\u201d But because \u201cFord Madox Ford\u201d in large red letters on the cover of my biography would look really excellent.<\/p>\n

No, it has to be Joyce. Here\u2019s how he would write my trip to the 7-11 to get Cokes and frozen burritos:<\/p>\n

\u201cA few light coughs from the highway made him turn to the window. He winced: the sun had broken a few clouds. He gazed numbly the cherry blossoms leaves, wilted and scattering, that blanketed the long driveway below him. His stomach whispered him to walk the driveway to the road. Yes, the sunlight would fool him and he\u2019d want for a jacket. Light reflecting off the sparkling asphalt, reflecting off the green painted road sign, the white of the letters, reflecting off the sharp metal perched in the telephone pole nests coasting again the white and blue sky. His stomach indifferent to the light and his shivering arms, wallet in his back pocket fat against this waddle, towards the convenience store, for sugar and grease.\u201d<\/p>\n

Okay, no he wouldn\u2019t, not at all. That\u2019s the fun of writing, not knowing what\u2019s going to come out until it\u2019s written. Maybe James Joyce can take overlong to write my biography too, and the fun will be in not knowing what will happen to me until he runs out of ink.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Postaday for May 1st. Your Life, the Book: From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you \u2014 who would you like to be your biographer? James Joyce, mostly because I don\u2019t like him. He\u2019s overrated. He had a good thing going with Dubliners, and then screwed it all … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “and his heart was going like mad”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[7,61],"tags":[69,67,68,66],"class_list":["post-1051","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life","category-postaday","tag-7-11","tag-camus","tag-ford-madox-ford","tag-james-joyce"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p24y52-gX","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1051","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1051"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1051\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1052,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1051\/revisions\/1052"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1051"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1051"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1051"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}