READ IT ALL!
― I know, right?, Sunday, 21 September 2008 10:42 (sixteen years ago) link
Drinking While Driving by Raymond Carver
It's August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retreat from Moscowby Caulaincourt Nevertheless, I am happy Riding in a car with my brother and drinking from a pint of Old Crow. We do not have any place in mind to go, we are just driving. If I closed my eyes for a minute I would be lost, yet I could gladly lie down and sleep forever beside this road My brother nudges me. Any minute now, something will happen.
― I know, right?, Sunday, 21 September 2008 10:43 (sixteen years ago) link
sorry if I've already said this 10,000,00x but I saw him give a reading at Reed in either '85 or '86 - dude had it working
― J0hn D., Sunday, 21 September 2008 12:29 (sixteen years ago) link
Thanks, everyone!
― Tape Store, Sunday, 21 September 2008 15:20 (sixteen years ago) link
I like that poem, but it's in the exact same meter and format as a lot of great James Wright poems.
I wrote my undergrad thesis on Carver (as well as David Mamet and Susan Rothenberg, two other late-70s/early-80s who made a similar major shift in their work from fragmented essentialism to a fuller, connection-based style), and I treated him with reverence in high school and college, but I've become much more conflict about his work in the years since. I'd love to be blown away again by a poem or story of his.
― Eazy, Sunday, 21 September 2008 21:30 (sixteen years ago) link
late 70s/early 80s artists...much more conflicted
― Eazy, Sunday, 21 September 2008 21:32 (sixteen years ago) link
wait Eazy what meter is that poem in
― J0hn D., Sunday, 21 September 2008 21:56 (sixteen years ago) link
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
Over my head, I see the bronze butterflyAsleep on the black trunk,Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.Down the ravine behind the empty house,The cowbells follow one anotherInto the distances of the afternoon.To my right,In a field of sunlight between two pines,The droppings of last year's horsesBlaze up into golden stones.I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.I have wasted my life.
*
OK, OK, not meter.
― Eazy, Sunday, 21 September 2008 22:09 (sixteen years ago) link
I wrote my undergrad thesis on Carver (as well as David Mamet and Susan Rothenberg, two other late-70s/early-80s who made a similar major shift in their work from fragmented essentialism to a fuller, connection-based style),
It's interesting how James Wright's development was in the other direction, no?
― Alfred, Lord Sotosyn, Sunday, 21 September 2008 22:35 (sixteen years ago) link
His line breaks are so perfect, he just holds ideas an arms length away from each other, like here:
I could gladly lie down and sleep forever beside this road
― I know, right?, Sunday, 21 September 2008 22:41 (sixteen years ago) link
I admire Carver but he's too depressing to compel me to spend a lot of time with him.
― calstars, Monday, 22 September 2008 01:43 (sixteen years ago) link
― I know, right?, Sunday, 21 September 2008 10:42 (1 year ago) Permalink
OTM
― Yonder Mountain Zing Band (Tape Store), Saturday, 24 April 2010 03:52 (fourteen years ago) link