Who would like to crique?
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would anyone like to share their opinion or critique my intro:
„I dont remember when or why it started, but I wanted to know, to understand who we are. Why we are we like this, and not something else.” Writer tips fedora to the movie Silent Souls (aka Buntlings).
In writing this story, this memoir, this is exactly what I feel. I am in the grip of a time passed from my life. A time, that seems more like a full life in and of itself that has come to fruiting, to its inevitable end, like the trains of Cocteau, only to give way to something new.
Like the wave speech in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I stand on precipice looking back, or perhaps rather I soar like an eagle over what has been a strange and exciting time, in my life. I pick over my mindscape of hypertextual sexiness, with an little added insanity. I travel back in time, revisiting all kinds of highs, with more a sense of contentment then sadness. I am about to move on, and there is an underlying uncertainty pulsating beneath the surface. Perhaps it is my soul or unconscious soul. Perhaps it is just a realization, that at some point in your life, you break the pattern and just grow up, however dull that may sound.
Off course, I am ready for this new adventure to begin, to emerge from the cocoon of great depths and highs, and I assure myself that finding meaning, pattern, and clarity is the Human thing to do. Especially when summing up a life so far that many would claim to have been outside the norms of anything dictated by society.
I cannot put an exact day, or time when my quest for fulfillment and knowledge started, it is lost in time, and the recurring waves of drugs, women (and men), violence, adventure, with bouts of consensual normality that followed in between the wave patterns. In the end, it is ultimately my story, one not unlike Proust's Rememberance of things past. It is a story of total free association, not just in writing, but in how I choose to live life to the very access, and perhaps even over the ledge of normality.
I've read 2 McCarthy novels, still don't see the appeal.
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Both 4/10s. Neither was terrible, but certainly weak. All The Pretty Horses, and The Crossing. I have Cities of the Plains, which I will probably read, but not quite yet.
Okay. Here's the challenge. Explain to me why McCarthy is excellent, without reference to Blood Meridian. Explain in terms of his works generally...if you can.