Behind the Wheel

In my unconscious, there is a kind of Wheel of Interests/Influences; now and then, new elements are added, but for the most part they remain the same. There's Buddhism (Zen and Tibetan), Jungian stuff, Joseph Campbell, Catholicism/Christianity, Sufism, Existentialism, a hodge podge of other philosophies, Poetry (which is subdivided into various categories), Fiction (ditto), Painting, Comics/Graphic Novels/Cartooning, and Ingmar Bergman . . . among others. I never know where the Wheel will stop on any given day. Some days, Rilke is soooo important; other days, not so much.

So, right now the Beats are back on my psychic stage, in particular Kerouac and (to a lesser extent) Ginsberg. These writers are among the oldest occupants of the Wheel; Kerouac is one of my earliest writerly influences, along with Henry Miller. (Don't get me started on Miller. He and Nin are prominent residents of the Wheel, as well.) I return to Kerouac and Ginsberg from time to time, because I don't feel I've ever quite assimilated whatever it is I need from that kind of writing: the openness, the generosity of spirit, the mystic Romanticism, and most of all the liveliness.

And I've also found Kerouac's missionary zeal to be an inspiration. Somehow, between road trips and drinking binges, he worked his ass off. I need to spend more time locked in the bathroom with Shakespeare and the Bible.

Anyway. There was a time when writers were still passionate and idealistic about writing. I like to stand by their fire, even if it is 50 years old. They are major writers, no matter what some critics say. Long may they haunt me.

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In other news, I've only heard from one Ph.D. program so far, but I'm 1-for-1 ! So, at least now I know there's at least one option for me this fall.